M Sellars - Miranda

“Not a real good word ta’ use around coppers, white man,” he grunted while shaking his head.

Since Ben was taking the lead, I held open the entry door while he and Felicity filed through and then followed behind them into the lobby area. Once inside I sidled up next to my wife and glanced around, but we both remained mute just as we’d been instructed to do.

Behind the low counter in front of us was seated a woman who looked to be in her late forties to early fifties. She was dressed in scrubs and wore her dark brown hair in a short but stylish bob. As the door was closing behind us, she looked up, her expression blank; then without uttering a word she returned to her work.

“Krystal not in today?” Ben asked.

“She’s running late,” the woman said without looking up.

“Ahh,” my friend muttered then announced, “Well…don’t guess it matters really. This is actually for you anyway.” He placed the large cup he was carrying onto the surface of the counter in front of her. It was wrapped in a heat resistant sleeve that bore a logo made up of an anthropomorphized coffee bean depicted leaning against a trio of interlocking J’s. Beneath it were the words, Jenna’s Java Joint. The actual contents of the vessel made up more than half the money he’d spent a few minutes earlier. He waited the better part of a minute for a response, but when none was forthcoming he added, “Dull-duh-somethin’-somethin’ coffee.”

The woman on the other side still didn’t look up. She simply kept pushing an ink pen across a form she had in front of her on the lower portion of the desk. As she continued to write, she replied, “Dulce de Leche Latte, Detective Storm. Dulce de Leche.”

“Yeah, that,” Ben grunted.

“I know you know how to say it.”

“Yeah, but it’s more fun this way.”

“For you it seems,” she acknowledged and then asked, “Large I presume?”

“Biggest one they’d sell me, yeah.”

“Whole milk, of course?”

“Uh-huh. And an extra shot of the duh-letchee stuff.”

“Day Lay-chay.”

“I thought that’s what I just said.”

She sighed and shook her head but still didn’t break her gaze from the task before her. A moment later she held out her free hand, fingers and thumb crooked in a semicircle as if she was already grasping the cup. Ben took the cue, picked up the drink and pushed it into her waiting grip. She carefully withdrew the appendage, took a tentative sip of the latte and then let out a small sigh as she curled her hand in and cradled the cup against her shoulder. She still didn’t look up at us. Instead, she shifted down to the next line on the form and continued writing. As she scribbled, she held her head tilted slightly and peered at her work through rectangular reading glasses that were perched low on the bridge of her nose. Her lips moved slightly, though no words were uttered, as she appeared to mouth the sentences she was putting onto the page.

I looked at Ben and gave him a quick nudge. When he turned to me, I shot him a questioning raise of my eyebrow. He simply furrowed his own brow and shook his head then turned back to her and continued to patiently wait. After a good three to four minutes had expired, the woman took another sip of the drink then laid her pen aside and looked up at him.

“Do you know what would go just perfectly with this?” she asked.

Ben lifted his arm and placed a small, white paper bag on the counter where the coffee cup had been. The side visible to me bore several translucent, greasy blotches where the contents came into contact with it.

“If I had ta’ guess, I’d say a fresh apple fritter, right outta the fryer, from Airway Donuts down the street,” Ben replied. “But like I said. I’m just guessin’. Oh, and ya’ might wanna be careful. I think it’s still kinda hot.”

The woman shook her head and smiled. “I know I’ve asked this before, but please explain something to me, Detective Storm. How is it that you, a city cop with whom I’ve only had dealings a handful of times, knows exactly what it takes to brighten my morning, when your counterparts here in the county who have to work with me on an almost daily basis don’t have the vaguest notion?”

“‘Cause I’m a hell of lot better detective than them,” he replied with a grin.

“I see,” she said, rolling her eyes. “If I recall correctly, that’s what you told me the last time. And the time before that.”

“Yeah, prob’ly,” he added with a shrug. “Lookin’ for a different answer, are ya’?”

“Is there one?”

“Between you and me, yeah. Just so happens I was pretty tight with Carl Deckert.”

“Ahh, finally the truth comes out,” she said with a nod at the mention of the former county homicide detective. “I guess I should have known. Although, he always brought me a cherry-cheese Danish with my latte.”

“Yeah, I know. But I overheard ya’ talkin’ one day when you were all excited about gettin’ one of the apple fritters they’d just pulled.”

“And you remembered that?” She chuckled. “So you really are a good detective.”

“That’s the rumor, but don’t spread it around. It’ll blow my cover.”

“Carl Deckert was a good man,” she offered sadly. “I hated when he retired, and I was very sorry to hear he had passed.”

“Yeah, me too. He was a hell of a copper,” Ben agreed with a solemn nod.

“Too bad the other county detectives didn’t learn from him the way you did,” she added.

“Yeah, well if it’s any consolation, Doc Sanders down in the city isn’t exactly my biggest fan. I think she’s immune to my charms if ya’ know what I mean.”

“Hard to believe,” she replied. “Of course, Christine isn’t easy to charm. But then, neither am I.” She took another sip of the latte.

“Nahh,” Ben said. “You’re plenty easy. You just ain’t cheap.”

“I’ll remember you said that,” she quipped and then focused on me. “All right then, don’t be rude, Detective. Introduce your friends.”

“Doctor Audrey Kingston, Chief Medical Examiner for Saint Louis County,” Ben said while gesturing back and forth between her and us. “Rowan Gant and Felicity O’Brien… Rowan an’ Felicity, Doc Kingston.”

I nodded and said, “Nice to meet you.”

Felicity did the same.

Ben had already focused his attention back on the doctor and offered, “Row is a…”

“You’re the Witch,” she said, interrupting him as she directed herself at me. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” I said with a pained smile.

She nodded. “I’m sure you do. The newspapers and television seem to take great delight in your exploits.” She shifted her nod toward Felicity. “Both of you.”

“Yes, they do at that… But, they also have a tendency to blow things out of proportion,” I offered. “So, don’t believe everything you hear.”

I felt odd making the comment. The very idea of stories about me being exaggerated was really a matter of perspective. The media definitely leaned toward sensationalizing everything where I was involved, but that was something I’d learned to live with. The fact that they’d almost tried and convicted Felicity on the airwaves and in newsprint was a different story. However, that was only one side of the coin. There were many things that actually did happen and, moreover, were vastly more shocking than even the media had managed to distort thus far. Fortunately, those particular events had remained out of the public eye for the time being, and if we were lucky, they always would.

Doctor Kingston nodded at me and parroted the complete maxim, “I believe that’s actually anything you hear… As well as, anything you read, and only half of what you see.”