Jennifer Crusie - GETTING RID OF BRADLEY

“Thank you,” Zack said.

A patrol car pulled up in front.

“Maybe he’s the police.” Mrs. Dover climbed down her back porch steps while she kept an eye cocked on Zack. “Maybe. But I bet he’s on the Most Wanted list Ha! We’ll know soon.” She nodded and hobbled down her driveway to the street to meet the uniforms.

“Great,” Zack said. “This makes the second time today somebody’s called the cops on me.”

“Well, as I was saying, I think your image needs work. I realize you’re probably undercover-”

“No, I’m not.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Forget it.” Zack started for the street. Then he screamed in pain.

A large dirty yellow cat had leaped on his leg, burying her claws deeply into his calf through his jeans. Zack kicked out, and the cat dropped away while Mrs. Dover screeched at him from the street.

“Meet Phoebe,” Lucy said.

“Damn!” Zack nursed his shin. “What’s wrong with that animal?”

“I think she’s psychotic. I hate her because she uses my car for a litter box so I have to keep the windows rolled up all the time, even in the summer. And because all three of my dogs are terrified of her.”

“Her, who?” Zack glared at Mrs. Dover’s back as she gestured wildly to the police in the street. “The woman or the cat?”

“Both,” Lucy said. “Do you want some iodine?”

“No,” Zack said, as a young patrolman approached him. “I want to shoot that damn cat.”

“Sir?” the patrolman began. “This lady has a complaint.”

Zack looked at him closely. “How old are you? Twelve?”

The young patrolman stiffened. “Sir…”

Zack got out his badge again. “I’m sorry. I’m having a bad day. I’m investigating an attempt on this woman’s life.” He nodded toward Lucy.

“You are not,” Lucy said. “They shot at you, not me.”

“Shut up.” Zack looked at the patrolman. “Do you ever get tired of defending the public?”

“All the time,” the patrolman said. “I’ll just have to call this in, sir…” he began, looking at Zack’s ID, and then he, too, screamed.

“Shoot the cat,” Zack said. “It’s assaulted two officers and resisted arrest. Do it.”

Mrs. Dover hissed at him, scooped up Phoebe, and disappeared into her house.

“Is this some kind of a joke?” the patrolman asked, nursing his shin.

“No. Tragically, no. Go ahead and call that in.” Zack looked up at Lucy as the patrolman made his way back to the car. “What does it mean when everyone you see is younger than you are?”

“It means you’re getting old. There’s a new teacher at my school. She asked me yesterday what it was like in the old days when I first started teaching.”

“Did you deck her?”

“No.” Lucy stuck out her chin. “But I may when I go back in to school tomorrow. I’ve gotten a lot meaner today.”

Zack laughed. She looked so funny, neat and round with all that crazy dead black hair haloing her face, calmly announcing mat she was a lot meaner today. What a sweetheart.

Dumb as a rock, but sweet.

“You’re not going back to school tomorrow,” he told her. “You’re moving in with your sister until I figure out what’s going on.”

Lucy frowned. “How long will that take? Especially if you’re going to figure it out by instinct. I don’t have that much sick leave. I don’t think anybody does.”

She wasn’t that sweet. Zack glared at her, and she bunked.

“Sorry,” Lucy said. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me today.”

“Forget sick leave,” Zack said. “How much dead leave do you have? I’m not kidding here. You could be in danger.”

“I think-”

“Don’t. Trust me on this one. I know what I’m doing. Somebody’s been trying to pick your locks.”

“What?”

Zack pointed his finger to the back door behind her. “There are scratches on your back-door lock, and there’s a piece of metal broken off inside this basement-door lock. Somebody’s been trying to get in here.”

Lucy swallowed. “Bradley?”

“Well, that would be my best guess. He may just be trying to get his golf clubs back. But then again…” He shrugged. “Somebody shot at you on the street today.”

“At you,” Lucy said, but her voice held a lot less conviction.

“Just stay with your sister for a while. She’s got room, right?”

“Oh, she’s got room. But I’m not going. She can’t take the dogs, and I’m not leaving them.” Lucy stuck her chin in the air. “Besides, I don’t believe this.”

Zack lost his temper and stomped up the back porch steps. He grabbed her arm and pulled her around to face the door as he pointed at the lock. “See those scratches?” His face was so close to hers they were almost nose-to-nose. “Those were made by a pointed metal tool. Somebody was trying to break in.”

Lucy blinked at his closeness. “Well, they didn’t get in, did they? So I must be pretty safe.”

“Only because they’re trying to be subtle for some reason. Sooner or later, they’re just going to smash a window and climb in. Lord knows why they haven’t already. I advise you to move to your sister’s.”

“No,” Lucy said.

Zack let go of her arm and closed his eyes and counted to ten. Then he looked down at her with all the patience he could muster.

She looked up at him, wide-eyed and trusting.

Oh, hell. If somebody did hit her, it’d be his fault for not taking care of her.

He forced himself to speak calmly. “Look, just do me one favor. Stay inside tonight. I’ll call you when I find out more tomorrow, okay? And I’ll have the patrol car keep an eye on you. Just until we can get a handle on your Bradley and see what he’s up to.”

Lucy opened her mouth to speak, and he overrode her again. “Just for tonight and tomorrow. That’s not much to ask. Please.”

“I’d have to leave, anyway,” Lucy said. “I’m a teacher. Even if I wasn’t going in to school tomorrow, I’d have to take in lesson plans.”

Zack looked again into Lucy’s huge brown eyes and thought again about how much she needed a keeper.

Not him, of course.

Still…

“I will take them in. Now, about this sick-leave thing. How long have you been teaching?”

“Twelve years.”

“And how many sick days have you taken?”

“None.”

“That’s what I figured. So how many do you have saved up?”

“One hundred and thirty-eight,” Lucy said.

“So if you use a couple, you could still develop a major disease and have everything covered, right?”

“Right,” Lucy said, “but that’s not the point. The point is, I’m not sick.”

Why was it he finally found an honest citizen only when it worked against him? “Look. Think of this guy who’s trying to kill you as a life-threatening illness. I do.”

“I really think-”

“I told you, don’t think. Just do what I tell you. If it will help, I’ll shave and put on a suit and come back and tell you to stay inside. I’ll do whatever it takes. Because I really do think you’re in danger.” He gestured to the basement door. “These are all good locks. Take advantage of them. Stay inside and I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Well…” Her pointed face was so confused under all that dead black hair mat suddenly Zack’s annoyance faded and he felt protective again. She seemed so helpless, so soft and round and absolutely clueless about reality.

“Please,” he said. “Just for tonight.”

“All right.” Lucy swallowed at his earnestness. “But I still think you’re wrong. Anyway, if you give me a couple of minutes, I’ll print out the lesson plans. This is very nice of you. Thank you, Detective Warren.”

“Zack.” He grinned at her in relief. “Detective Warren is for people who haven’t hit me with a purse.”