Faye Kellerman - Street Dreams

The William Tell Overturewas never my favorite piece to begin with. It was especially obnoxious as a jingle coming from my cell phone. I wanted to pull the covers over my head and keep sleeping, but because my current work situation was tenuous, I reconsidered. I reached down to the floor, rooted through my handbag, and came up with the infernal machine.

Koby shifted onto his stomach, then pulled the covers over his head. “Ignore it.”

I depressed the call button. “Hello?”

“It’s Brill.”

I sat up, my heart reminding me I was alive. “What’s going on?”

“Just giving you a heads-up and it’s all good. Shooting team is just about done. You’re fine.”

Suddenly, I could breathe easily. “Oh my God, that’s great! Did Forensics pull anything from the Nova?”

“Lots of prints. We’ll run through the electronic file by midafternoon.”

“Thanks, Justice. That’s a real load off.”

“That’s why I called.”

Koby yanked the covers off and bolted up. My eyes followed his body-upright as well as erect-as he walked to the bathroom.

“Someone will officially call you,” Justice told me. “You want to know where the shots landed?”

“Where?”

“All in the hood of the car, nothing through the windshield. Your aim was good. Except you fired six and the team only recovered four.”

“I must have shot a couple of wild ones,” I lied.

“Yeah, so long as they didn’t land in the wrong place. So far, so good.”

“Thanks again, Justice. Call me as soon as the prints go through, even if there isn’t a hit.”

A pause. “Maybe we should have that cup of coffee, Decker.”

“Whenever you’re ready to talk about the Sarah Sanders rape case-with Russ MacGregor’s permission, of course-I’m up for it.”

“Yeah, that too. You have the day off. How about a drink when I get off-around six. I should know something about the car’s prints by then.”

“Can I get back to you? I’ve got to arrange my schedule with my boyfriend. He’s still half-asleep right now.”

“Sure, Decker. Call me back.”

“Thanks, Justice. Bye.”

Koby slithered back into bed. “What schedule are we arranging?”

“Detective Brill wants to talk to me.”

“About what?”

“Prints in the Nova. He’s running them through this afternoon. He suggested talking over drinks when he gets off from work.”

“He asked you out? ”

“He’s married, Koby.”

“A ring on the finger is not a ring on the gonads.”

“And that’s why I mentioned my boyfriend. He’s not stupid.”

“Are you going?” He sulked.

“I’ll call and find out what popped up on National Register. If it’s legit, yes, I’m going. I’ve been in this position before. I know these guys and I know how to steer it to business. Our dating makes it that much easier. Plus, Brill’s a superior. I need a jump start on the Sarah Sanders rape case, and if he can help me, great.”

“There are sexual-harassment laws in this country, you know.”

“He’s not harassing me, he’s throwing out feelers. Don’t worry.”

But his face held resentment. He waited a moment; then his long fingers skittered over my nipples.

“Let me brush my teeth,” I told him. As soon as I returned to bed, he turned to his side and propped himself up onto an elbow. He took in my nakedness.

“You are so gorgeous.”

I stroked his cheek. “So are you. Please don’t doubt me.”

He brought my hand to his erection. “I don’t doubt you, but I know men.”

My cell went off again.

“Let it ring, ” Koby snapped.

“It might be important.”

Koby plopped down onto his back, smoldering eyes on the ceiling, and said nothing. This time, it was Rina.

“I just wanted to know when you’re going to pick up the old Volvo.”

“Oh… hold on.” I turned to my bedmate. “When do you want to pick up the Volvo?”

He exhaled loudly. “What time is it?”

“Around nine.”

“I have to be in at three. Twelve, twelve-thirty?”

“How about twelve-thirty?” I asked Rina.

“That’s fine. I’ll see you then.”

I hung up.

“Turn it off,” Koby said. “If it goes again, I will break it.”

I turned it off.

He leaned over and kissed me.

Within moments, there was another annoying jingle- Für Elise and it was his phone.

“Oh my God!” he snarled.

“You can answer it,” I told him. “ I won’t get cranky.”

He glared at me and picked up his phone. “Yes?… Mikal!… Shit!” He sat up. “Sorry, mon, I forgot to call. I can’t come down; my car’s wrecked… No, no, I’m fine. Some dude ran a light… No, it’s totaled, utterly gone. My woman has another set of wheels… Her old man does. Look, just run without me today. I see you on Thursday, mon… When? Saturday?… Maybe. I’ll talk to the woman. Okay. Bye.”

I stared at him. “When did you become Jamaican?”

“What?”

“Never mind. Talk to me about what?”

“A party Saturday night. Do you want to go?”

“Do you?”

“If you want.” He eyed me hungrily. “I think I’d rather be alone with you.” He put his phone on his nightstand. No sooner did he lay it down than it rang again. He started to laugh and so did I.

“Go ahead,” I told him.

“Yes?” His voice was hard. “What time?… I can’t… I can’t… You’re not hearing me, Marnie, I can’t. I have no car. I have to pick one up… I’m picking it up at twelve-thirty, so one-thirty at the earliest. Why not call Lisa?… When?… How long?… So call up Pat and insist that she come in or you shall report her. You have to control the people on your shift, Marnie. I keep telling you this. She’s missed more days than all of us together… I know she’s a single mother, but I have a life, too. I am sick of covering for her… No, I am not yelling, I am frustrated!”

He rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I know it’s not your fault, but certainly it is not my fault. Look, I try to make it by two. That is the best I can do… It’s okay… I know… I know you do… No problem, Marnie… Yes, I will… I must go.” He clicked the phone off. “Marnie says hello.” He lobbed the cell across the room. It didn’t break, but the battery fell out.

He stared at me with appetite. “Shall we try once more?”

“Are you sure you want to attempt this?” I asked him.

“If we don’t, I shall truly be foul.”

“I don’t think I want to see that.”

“It would not be good.”

An hour later, he had done a one-eighty: a completely different man-relaxed and smiling and joking. After we showered, he insisted on preparing us breakfast. He turned on his stereo, zydeco music pumping out of the speakers. Nifty accordion playing. I heard him singing along with the vocals.

By the time I had dressed and walked into his kitchen, he was almost done cooking.

“Coffee’s ready.”

“You work fast.”

He kissed me as he poured eggs into a pan sizzling with chopped peppers, tomatoes, and onions. “I set up outside on the patio. It is a beautiful day.”

“That looks good.”

“Shakshuka.”

“Ethiopian?”

“Israeli. Moroccan, I think. You are depleted. You need protein. We both do.”

“I thought it was good to eat carbs when you’re depleted.”

“No, carbs are for immediate rise in blood sugar. Protein is digested slowly. It does not give you the rush, but you don’t crash, either. Take the paper and go outside.”

Five minutes later, he brought out food, drink, and my cell phone. He kissed my lips, then sat down. “Ah… this is nice.” He leaned back in the chair, hands behind his neck. “It is good to breathe.”