Meet Me in the Middle

"So, Linda?"

"Well, the other night I was over in Lawson Heights and I saw Hailey — she works here," she added to the officers, "getting into Brenda Turnbridge's car. And, well, last week we were asked if we knew anyone who might have a grudge."

"Hailey or Brenda had a grudge?" Ed asked for clarification.

Richard spoke up. "I fired Brenda about ten, maybe eleven, months ago."

"Oh, why was that?"

Richard didn't answer at first. Finally, he said, "Maybe if you're done with Linda?"

The two officers looked at each other. "Is there anything else you would like to tell us, Linda? No? Okay, then thank you very much."

"Mr. Mason?" Miranda asked, turning back.

Richard got up and closed the door that Linda had left open. He thought for a moment and then said, "I'm wondering if I need my lawyer here." The officers frowned in surprise. "It's just that I don't know much about slander."

"Well, we can wait for your attorney if you feel that is the best course, Mr. Mason. Or, you can give us a general idea and we can take a formal statement later if that is necessary. No one is trying to hang you here."

He assessed them for a second, then decided. "I let Brenda go because she was turning tricks in the back parking lot with some of the through traffic, the truckers. I can't have that. This is a family place."

That raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't think to mention it because it was so long ago. But, yeah, she was pretty angry."

"Officer Patterson, hello," Richard said. He was walking around the restaurant, saying hello to the regulars.

"I thought I'd stop by and give you the news," she said. "Ms. Hailey Hodges turns out to be the cousin of Mr. Brian Hodges. Mr. Brian Hodges turns out to be the live-in boyfriend of Ms. Brenda Turnbridge and, I might add, a rather nasty piece of work."

"Oh? Sit down. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?"

She shook her head. "I think we went over that last time, Mr. Mason."

He grinned. "But Officer Patterson, I have taken up detecting since you last met me."

"Oh?"

"Well, for starters I saw you pull up in a red SUV without county plates, unlike the last time." He pointed out the window at the car parked out front. "Second, you are wearing a rather nice dress and heels that seem appropriate for a night out. Third, since everyone here knows who you are and might blab, you can't possibly be undercover. The only sensible conclusion is that you are, in fact, no longer on duty."

She laughed and tipped her head in acknowledgment. "Nonetheless, I'm here on official business."

He made a face and she went on, "I just wanted to let you know that it turns out that Mr. Hodges is the owner of a silver Dodge pickup truck with a license plate that traffic cams on the bypass can put in this general area on the Sunday in question. A search warrant revealed an unlicensed handgun as well as a black ski mask such as the one Mrs. Bernhardt described. It also revealed approximately $11,000 in cash, a brand-new TV plus some other stuff, all purchased in the last few days, and some drop bags that belong to the same bank as you use. We're going through their trash now looking for the deposit slips you said were in them."

"Wow!"

"Mr. Hodges and Ms. Turnbridge are in custody and she, at least, has been rather helpful. Anyway, I just thought you might like to know, Mr. Mason. I think I can say now that you are no longer of any great interest to the police."

"Thank you," he said, "but at least you can call me Richard."

She laughed, "Official business I tell you," and turned to go, then looked back over her shoulder, "but maybe Sunday."

"Sunday?"

"I hear the food is great here. Sunday's my day off and my partner said I should give it a try." With a little wave, she pushed out the door and was gone.

Richard had a happy smile on his face and, Maria, who had been at the register for the entire exchange, gave him a wink and smile, causing him to chuckle.

"Dick?" she asked across the table.

"Only if you're mad at me, and even then, I generally don't answer to epithets."

She laughed and shook his hand, "Miranda."

When she had come in, the Sunday rush was over and he had asked if he could join her. She had said, "That would be fine." He led her over to a booth in the back and dropped in across from her.

"Did you really suspect me?" he asked after they had eaten lunch and were sipping coffee.

"Not especially. We had to consider an insurance scam but nothing really led us in that direction. I guess we wondered more about Ms. Bernhardt, given the circumstances, but even that was just covering bases," she replied. Her look was level but he could see the curiosity as her eyes flicked over to Ellen sitting by the register.

They chatted for half an hour before she said she had some shopping to do. He enjoyed watching her walk away. There was just the right amount of curve under her jeans. Then he quickly looked away, worried that someone on the staff might have caught him checking her out.

She didn't stop in the next Sunday. Richard came in and hung around for a couple of hours but then headed out, mildly disappointed. She did the following week and, again, Richard joined her.

"I guess you like the food," he said.

She laughed, "Yes, I do."

"Well, we're glad you came back."

"We?"

"Well, sure. Everyone here likes a good customer," he said, totally deadpan. Then he grinned and said, "Okay, I admit that, now that you're not viewing me as a desperate criminal, I enjoy seeing you stop by."

She gave a little tip and nod of her head to acknowledge the compliment as the waitress came up to take their order.

"Well, I have to go," she said forty-five minutes later. "Places to be. People to see."

"Okay. Umm ..." He hesitated a second; she waited. "I wondered if next Sunday you would have dinner with me?"

"I'm sorry, I can't. I already have plans." Her smile might easily have been part of the practiced refusal of a woman who had been hit on time and again, but she reached out and briefly touched his arm that was lying on the table as she said it. The gesture might have been unconscious but, even so, Richard thought it was encouraging body language.

"Well, what about Saturday?"

She looked at him questioningly. "I sometimes work pretty late on Saturdays, Richard, and you just got done telling me how early you have to get up to be here."

"Oh, Sunday's one of my days off, too. I just stopped by for a while today."

"Interesting," she said and laughed. She pulled out a business card and pen, wrote down a number. "My cell. Saturday would be great. I like Italian. Give me your number in case something unexpected comes up."

"Do you ask all the women who come into your restaurant out on a date?" she said as they backed out of her driveway Saturday evening.

"No. Just" — for the split second before he finished the sentence Miranda thought he was going to say something disappointingly lame like "just the pretty ones" — "the police officers."

She grinned. "I see, and how many is that?"

He glanced over at her for a second and then turned back to the road. "Counting you, one."

She laughed.

"Well actually ..." he said.

"Aha! Now the real story starts to come out. Are you gonna start lying to me?" He glanced over again but she was smiling to let him know she was teasing.

"Nope. There were a couple of cute waitresses back in high school days when my parents owned the place but fifteen or sixteen years ago doesn't count. "

"I guess not," she allowed. After a minute, "Did they say yes?"

"One did, one didn't."

"Well, two out of three ain't bad."

"Thank you for a nice evening," she said. She leaned up and gave him a quick peck on the cheek and then pulled out her keys. "I had fun."

"I did, too." As she unlocked the door and turned to say goodbye, he went on, "I'd like to do it again, if you're interested."

She glanced back at him as she was stepping inside and said, "If you want to give me call sometime, we'll see."

"Oh, sure." He gave a little half-smile and turned back to his car.

As the door latched behind her, Miranda frowned and then kicked herself a little. Her job made her good at noticing reactions in other people. She had seen the flicker in his eyes when she answered, but she was tired and it hadn't registered immediately how offhand her answer must have seemed. She hadn't intended it to sound like that. Her mind was saying, "I would like that. Call me and we'll figure something out," but it had been a very, very long day and the words just didn't come out that way.

In fact, the casual conversation, pasta, and a beer had been the ideal way to unwind after a day that included two domestic disturbance calls, one at an ungodly hour of the morning when a husband had come home drunk. Richard had been attentive and amusing all evening, suggesting they head out at the first, discreetly muffled yawn. He deserved a kinder answer. She wondered if he'd assume he'd just been brushed off.

He wasn't certain but he didn't rate his chances very highly. Oh well, no point in chasing someone that didn't want to be caught.

She slept late the next morning. When she finally cracked an eye at the clock, she groaned but got up. She wanted to get to the gym before an appointment to get her hair cut at eleven, and wanted to look for a new dress, not to mention needing groceries badly. It was a lot to do and still be home early enough to shower before dinner time. However, she was still annoyed at herself for her response to Richard, and there was time to squeeze another stop in before she went to the mall.

"Officer Patterson, hello," said Ellen. "Just one for brunch?"

"Hello. No, I just stopped in for a moment. Is Richard here?" she asked.

"I'm afraid you missed him. He was in about an hour ago to pick up the bank deposit but he's gone now. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Oh, that's okay. I guess I can try to call him."

"Well, you might want to wait until this evening. He and our son are out canoeing today and Richard has learned that tippy canoes, Charlie, and cell phones are a bad mix."

"Oh." She had a date that evening and calling him wouldn't be very appropriate. She thought for a moment. "Can I leave a note?"

"Of course. I can grab you an envelope from the back."

I was half asleep by the time I got home and probably forgot to say thank you.

Thank you. I had a nice time. Talk to you soon? –M

"Can I see you again next weekend?" Richard had found the note sitting on his desk when he came in Tuesday morning. He knew that a call at 5:00 a.m. was unlikely to earn him any brownie points, but the clock had seemed to crawl until he could close the door of his office and pick up his phone.

"A friend's birthday is Saturday and I already have plans next Sunday."

"Oh." He sounded disappointed. "Well, then I guess some other time, perhaps."

"I do, however, also have Mondays off."

He considered, "Oh. Okay. Would you like to do something then?"

"Movie and then dinner? My treat but you drive because my car is going into the shop. Sound good?"

The movie didn't happen. They couldn't find something they wanted to see at a reasonable time. So, they ended up in a small bar she knew of, eating burgers and drinking single malt whiskey, a taste they discovered they shared.

After their second drink, he asked the waitress for another for her and just water for him. "Driving," he said, smiling.

The conversation continued pleasantly, mostly getting to know one another, with occasional comfortable pauses. In one of the quiet moments between sips, she said abruptly, "Okay! A lot of divorced couples don't hate each other, but Ellen's working for you? And we heard that — " she stopped suddenly. Her face turned red as she realized how inappropriate the question was to someone on a second date.

"Oh my God! I'm so sorry. It really is none of my business! That was three drinks talking. Now I'm really embarrassed. Please, forget it!" She looked mortified.

And, just like that — perhaps it was the alcohol working in him also — he told her.

"We dated our senior year in college. She got pregnant by mistake the following summer and we loved each other enough that we decided to get married. We were happy, I think.

"Mike was my best friend since we were kids. When he moved back here we hung out with him. After a while, I realized he liked Ellen, too. But he did his best to keep it hidden, and I didn't want to embarrass him, so I just ignored it. Then, one day, we were out drinking and I saw ... I mean, really saw ... the way Ellen looked at him. The best way I can put it is hungry." He shook his head at the unwelcome memory.

"That started to eat at me. She seemed the perfect wife on the surface but I began to doubt everything, suspect everything. I just became more and more insecure until finally I just got really stupid."

"What did you do?"

"What any stupid cheating story out there tells a guy to do."

She looked puzzled.

"I used our Nanny Cams. You know, the things you put to watch the babysitter that look like clocks or books or such? Her folks had given them to us when we had Charlie though we never used them. Bedroom, living room, one that looks like a rock for the patio."

"Oh dear!"

"Yeah, not my proudest moment," he said ruefully. "I was afraid to use them and afraid not to. Ellen would have been furious if she'd found out. But, I couldn't bring myself to ask her with no evidence that it was anything but my imagination. So, I manufactured a fishing trip."

"And was it as bad as you suspected?" she asked softly.

He shook his head. "No. But maybe a little yes.

"No, in that there were no scenes of naked bodies writhing around to a soundtrack of animal grunts. Nothing happened. Yes, in that I wasn't imagining she cared for him."

"What did you see?" she asked.

"Mike came over on Saturday afternoon for a swim, something he often did. The picture was a little distorted and the sound was a little tinny, but I could see enough. They swam; they sat and talked. From where I sat you could almost see the electricity in the air. Then Ellen went for a last swim. As she came out, the sun went behind the clouds and she shivered, so Mike picked up a beach towel and laid it across her shoulders. As she reached up to gather it in, their hands touched and they both froze. Then I saw her shoulders sag. It was almost as if ... I don't know ... maybe like she was defeated?

"I don't know what to say," she said softly.

"No," he answered, shaking his head, "nor do I."

She nodded, almost crying. "I made a promise, Mike, and I won't break it. He's a good man, and Charlie's father, and I do love hi — "

He put his hand up to silence her. "I know; I won't ask you to break it. I couldn't do that to any man, let alone my best friend."

She nodded. After a moment she said, "I don't think you should come over here when he's not around anymore."

"We're not doing anything."

She shook her head. "I don't think an affair has to be physical to be an affair, you know? This one has to stop before it gets started."

He thought about that for a moment and then looked sad and nodded. Just before he left, he looked back over his shoulder.

"Will you answer one question for me completely honestly?"

"Yes."

"If you had never married and you had to choose. What would your choice be?"

She was silent for a few seconds. "You. Don't ever ask me that kind of thing again and please go now."

"Jesus!" Miranda said.

Richard nodded, his face full of remembered sadness. "She wasn't cheating with him. I didn't really have any doubt about that anymore. But," he shook his head, uncertain of what he was trying to say. "But, it was a bad couple of weeks. In the end, I ..." He ran out of words.

Miranda reached over and touched his arm. "Mike told Ed and me what you did." He looked surprised at that. She continued, wanting to lighten the depression she hadn't meant to stir up, "Pretty classy of you, we both thought."

He tried to deflect that, "All I did was accept reality. Ellen was the one who was classy."

Her fingers pinned his arm, giving a little squeeze to get his attention, "Yes, she was ... also." The emphasis on the last word was clear.

"And has everything been okay?" she asked, letting him decide whether to keep talking or just say fine and blow it off.

"Of course not!" he looked at her almost angrily. "At times, I've hated her. At times, I hated him and wanted to kill the bastard."

Miranda perked up. "Umm, cop sitting right here."

The anger turned sheepish. "Oh. Figuratively speaking, of course."

She smiled. "Of course. And, yet, you have her working with you."

"Mike got laid off for a bit last year. I needed a third manager; she knew how to do it. He found a new job but she decided she wanted to stay on." He waved vaguely. "It just seemed to be the right thing, helping them out. She's the mother of my kid, after all, and Charlie will get the place someday.

"It's not too bad. Our shifts don't overlap more than an hour or so and, well, it's not so bad seeing her anymore, just a bit lonely. I've sorted of accepted it." He paused, then sat up straighter. "Wow! Did that sound as maudlin to you as it did to me? Sorry!"

"Why are you sorry? I started it."

"Well, I'm finishing it. So," he said brightly, "tell me about you, Miranda."

"With good friends, I'm Randy."

He froze, fighting hard to keep his face straight but then he saw the twinkle in her eye and burst out laughing. "I'm not touching that one!"

"What?" she said, her face all innocence.

"Good night." He leaned to kiss her cheek.

She shook her head and leaned in. Her lips felt perfect to him, soft and warm. She held it for a second, enough that it was definitely a kiss and not a peck, and then leaned back. "A nice evening," she said.

He stopped by the restaurant in the late afternoon on Sunday. Since the robbery, he had been keeping very little cash in the place and Sunday brunch was always a fairly big hit with the after-church crowd.

Ellen mentioned to him, "Officer Patterson stopped by for brunch today."

"Oh," he said with elaborate nonchalance, "that's good. She seems nice."

He headed back to the office, simultaneously feeling sorry that he hadn't come in the morning and absurdly pleased at the news. Ellen watched him walk away, also smiling a bit to herself.

He dialed Miranda's number. "Hey, I hear you were in today?"

"Well, the food's not bad."

"Not bad?" he asked, pretending to be outraged.

She laughed. "Hey, Richard. I can't really chat right now; I'm running late."

"Can I see you again?" he asked quickly.

"What did you have in mind?"

"I know it's rude to ask at the last minute but can I see you tomorrow?"

"You're not kidding about last minute!" She was laughing as she said it. "Tell you what. Last Tuesday was rough due to someone getting me drunk the night before." He sputtered a bit and she laughed again. "So, how about lunch? I could stop by the restaurant."

It was his turn to be quiet and think. Miranda sensed that it was something a bit more than thinking about his schedule. "Maybe," he said, "if you were willing, we could grill something at my place?"