Kathleen Creighton - Memory of Murder

Merrill appeared to relax a little, as well. “Well, as long as Lindsey’s happy, I’m glad to meet you, Alan-and I’m Richard, by the way.” He paused. “Detective, you said? What kind?”

“Homicide.”

“Really?” He did that little rearing back, startle thing again. “Well, at least it’s not drugs or vice. Or gangs. Speaking of which-terrible thing that happened this past weekend, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” Alan said, “it was.”

Merrill appeared to be about to ask another question, but Lindsey interrupted. “What are you doing here, Dad? Not that I’m not glad to see you.”

He pointed an accusing finger at his daughter. “Now, I tried to call you. I did. You weren’t answering your cell phone.”

“Dad, you know I don’t take it when I go running.”

Merrill looked at Alan and raised both hands in a gesture of paternal helplessness. “What am I gonna do with her? You’re a cop, tell her how nuts she is to go out alone like that without a cell phone!”

“Dad, it’s not like I’m out in the wilderness. Where I run it’s on a busy street with houses on the other side, people all over the place, jogging, walking their dogs, playing with their kids. It’s perfectly safe. And,” she added in a wry aside to Alan, loud enough for her father to hear, “I’m forty years old, for Pete’s sake.”

“And you’re never going to be too old for your dad to worry about you-don’t you forget that.” Merrill gave Alan a narrow look. “You have children, son?”

“Yes sir, I do,” Alan said. “A daughter-she’s almost ten.”

“Ah. Then you know-or if you don’t now, you will.” He took a set of keys out of his pocket and peeped open his car door locks, then turned back to them. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by since I couldn’t get you on the phone. Wanted to see if you feel like coming over on the weekend.”

He smiled, but now Alan thought it seemed forced…awkward. And it struck him suddenly, with a flash of unwanted sympathy, what it must be like for a man married for more than forty years, suddenly finding himself without his wife. It was pretty obvious to him the man was lonely.

“You know, thought I might warm up the old barbecue, invite some of the neighbors, be like old times. Before your mother…” He cleared his throat, then threw Alan a fierce look. “I suppose she’s told you-”

“Yes,” Alan said. “I’m sorry. Must be tough.” What else could he say?

Lindsey had opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, Richard Merrill said to Alan, “You’re included in the invitation, of course.”

Her head snapped toward Alan and her eyes widened, the look she gave him saying plainly, Oh, no! What now?

He was asking himself that same question. The invitation was a golden opportunity, the perfect chance for him to learn more about the elusive Merrills, but the timing couldn’t have been worse. He said in a murmur meant only for Lindsey, “I have Chelsea that weekend.”

Naturally, Merrill overheard. “Chelsea? That would be your daughter?”

“Yes, sir. I was supposed to have her last weekend, but after all hell broke loose in the ’hood, I had to cancel. I can’t disappoint her again.”

“No, no-by all means, bring her along. I have a pool, some of the neighbors have kids, grandkids. She’ll be more than welcome. She’ll have fun. So, what do you say? Can I count on the three of you?”

Lindsey popped open her mouth and threw Alan that Help-me-out-and-don’t-you-dare-say-yes! look again.

“Sure,” he said. “We’d love to come. We’ll be there.”

He heard a little gasp, then a bright and artificially cheery, “O- kay ! So, Dad, I guess that’s, um… So, we’ll see you next what, Saturday? What time?” He could hear a note of desperation in her voice, and feel those ripples of tension cascading through her body again.

Interesting .

Merrill shrugged and divided a look between the two of them. “Around two? It gets dark so early this time of year.”

“Two’s fine with me,” Alan said.

“Two it is,” Lindsey almost sang, and Alan snugged her a little closer still.

Then he had to let go of her momentarily as her father stepped forward to give her a hug and a kiss on the forehead. “That’s great-just great. See you Saturday, then. Good to meet you, Alan.” He clapped Alan on his upper arm, got into his car and backed out of the driveway.

Alan and Lindsey waved, then stood together and silently watched the big sedan roll through the automatic gate that had opened to let it pass, pause, taillights winking, then turn right and move off down the street. It was only then, with the quiet of the empty driveway and spotlighted landscaping shadows settling in around them, that he realized his arm was encircling her again. That somehow, for some reason, she’d moved right back into the curve of his body, into the place she’d vacated to accept her father’s farewell hug. He wondered if she’d done it without thinking, because it felt natural and right, the way it had felt so natural and right to him he hadn’t given it a thought, either.

They broke apart at what seemed like the same moment-impossible to tell who did it first.

Lindsey gave a little laugh, sounding half relieved, half embarrassed. “Boy, you do that well.”

“What?”

“Lie.”

That stopped him for a moment, making him do his own little mental rearing back, the word an unexpected jolt to his self-image. He lied on a daily basis, of course, dealing with suspects and witnesses alike, and never gave it a thought. Went with the territory. He did and said what was necessary to get the job done, and it wasn’t always one hundred percent gospel truth. He sure didn’t think it made him any less of a good guy.

His chuckle was self-deprecating. “Think he bought it?”

She hugged herself, rubbing her upper arms inside the sleeves of the warm-up jacket, although the evening wasn’t that chilly. “Why wouldn’t he? I’m forty years old-I’m sure the notion that I might bring a man home with me occasionally isn’t that shocking.” Her voice sounded clipped, almost angry.

“Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Bring men home with you…occasionally?”

She gave a little start, in a way that reminded him of her father. “What earthly business is that of yours?”

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, if we’re supposed to be, uh, dating , I just figured I ought to know what I’m getting into.”

The fact that she was being teased sank in, and she made a small sound, a snort, and gave him a sideways glaring look to go with it. After a moment, she pulled off the sweatband and raked her fingers through her hair, then suddenly held her head between her hands and let go of an exasperated breath. “But, why did you say we’d go to the barbecue? You realize, we’re going to have to keep up the charade of us being a couple all afternoon. And what about your daughter? What’s she going to think?”

“About what?”

“Well, me, obviously. The fact that we’re supposedly uh, dating…”

“She’s ten, Lindsey. Who I happen to be dating is no concern of hers.”

“Oh,” she said, arching her eyebrows at him, “so are you dating someone?” Before he could answer, she gave an elaborate shrug and added, “I just figured, you know, since we’re supposed to be dating, I ought to know what I’m getting into.”

He grinned to show his appreciation of the small gotcha , and she grinned back. And it occurred to him, as it did each time he was with her, that he was enjoying himself entirely too much, given the nature of their relationship.