The Staler

I opened the door to the den and stepped inside. Jennifer was still sitting at the desk and looked up at me. “I didn’t know you used to be a police officer,” she said softly. “Why did you quit?”

“My wife didn’t like my being a cop,” I said. “She didn’t like the hours, didn’t like the danger, and didn’t like the hold she said the department had on me.”

“Oh,” she said softly. “How does she like your working as a private investigator, then? It doesn’t seem to me that the hours are any better.”

“She’s not my wife any more,” I said. “We got divorced. Turns out it wasn’t my being a cop she didn’t like, it was me.”

An odd look formed in her beautiful green eyes and she sat there, looking thoughtful for a few moments, then she shook her head, as if she was trying to clear it. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. “I didn’t know.”

“It was probably for the best,” I said. “She married an old boyfriend and I think she’s happier now than she ever was with me.”

“How about you?” Jennifer asked.

“What about me?” I replied.

“Are…are you happy?” she asked softly.

I shrugged. “I’m doing OK,” I said. “I could be happier, but I could be worse, too. My life changed, but it didn’t end. How are you doing?” I paused, “Other than with this guy hassling you? What happened to Horace?” I sat down in a comfortable leather chair opposite her desk.

“He…he contracted AIDS,” Jennifer said softly, with more than a trace of sadness in her voice. “I didn’t know if you knew that or not. It progressed rapidly. It was awful to see, really. They…his doctors…managed to keep him comfortable. And, in the end, the pain medication made it easier for him to end his life.”

“I was sorry to hear about Horace,” I told her, and I was. I knew that, even though she and her late husband didn’t have a traditional marriage, there was affection there, which is something not all married couples can say.

“Do…do you think you’ll be able to stop Raymond?” she asked softly.

“We’ll stop him,” I said. The thing was, I wasn’t sure how we’d stop him, but if it took the rest of my life, I would do it. Even, I knew, if it meant killing Raymond Gleason.

“Would...would you like a cup of coffee?” Jennifer asked. “I was just thinking about going out to the kitchen and getting myself a cup of hot chocolate.”

“I never turn down coffee,” I said, “especially when I know I’m going to have to stay up all night.”

Jennifer smiled and got up. So did I. We walked out to the kitchen. While Jennifer made herself a cup of hot chocolate, I poured myself a cup of coffee from the pot already made.

Jennifer made a sour face when I poured the coffee. “I could have made some fresh coffee,” she said. “That must be terribly strong. It’s been on all day.”

“I like my coffee this way,” I told her. “If it floats the spoon, it’s just right.”

After she finished making the hot chocolate, Jennifer turned, leaned against the counter, and looked at me. “I still think about you,” she said tentatively.

“I think about you, too,” I replied. “How did you get hooked up with this guy?”

She frowned and shook her head. “I don’t know, really,” she said. “It was one of the few lapses of judgment I had. I guess when I make a mistake, I make a big one, huh?”

“It looks like it turned out that way,” I said.

“I met Ray when we were probating Horace’s will,” she said. “All we…Horace and I…went through there at the end, it was awful.”

“It must have been,” I said.

Jennifer sipped some of her hot chocolate. “I guess my judgment wasn’t what it could have been,” she said softly. “After Horace was gone I was terribly lonely and afraid. And…well…I guess Ray must have sensed that. Things happened, but it didn’t take long for me to realize I’d made a mistake. When I did, I broke off with him, but…” She shrugged.

“We’ll get him off your back,” I said. “I promise.”

Jennifer smiled at me and nodded. She sipped more of her hot chocolate. “How are you enjoying being single?” she asked. “Have...have you found anyone?”

“Nobody special,” I said. “There are several women I’ve been seeing, but nothing special.”

We hadn’t turned on many lights when we entered the kitchen. The fact that it was dimly lit probably saved Jennifer’s life.

She sipped more hot chocolate, then took a deep breath. “I… think I…I want to explain why I…why I stopped seeing you,” she said very softly.

“You…” That’s all I got out when I saw the red dot appear on her chest. I knew it was a laser sight and reacted immediately, without thinking. I tossed my coffee cup aside, grabbed her, threw her to the floor, and started to fall on top of her. When I did that, the kitchen window exploded inward and, as I was falling, I felt something sting my shoulder.

“What…?” Jennifer stammered as she lay next to me on the floor.

“We were shot at,” I said softly. I reached down and pressed the button on the little pager-sized box I’d fastened to my belt. It was connected to the electronic panel and would send a signal to the police department, advising them we needed help, and needed it now. “Stay down. I’m not sure whether he can see us or not, but I don’t think he can. And there’s a lot of broken glass here, too. I don’t want you getting cut. Lay still until the police get here.”

Jennifer began sobbing. “I-I can’t believe this is happening,” she whimpered. “I-I can’t believe he’s acting like this.”

“He won’t be for long, if I have my way,” I replied. My shoulder ached a little, so I reached up, touched it, and realized I’d been hit. My sweater was damp and I could feel the gouge where the bullet had creased me. I didn’t appear to be bleeding too badly, it didn’t hurt that much, and I still had movement in the arm, so maybe it was just a scratch.

“Why…why didn’t I hear a shot?” Jennifer asked.

“He’s probably shooting from some distance away and he might be using a silencer,” I said. I looked around and realized there was little glass where we were lying. “I’m going to roll off,” I told Jennifer. “When I do, slide over there and go out into the hallway. Be careful, there is broken glass on the floor.”

“All right,” she replied. I rolled onto my side, taking my weight off her, and she did exactly as I told her.

After Jennifer was out of the kitchen, I crawled to the kitchen door and out into the hallway, too. Jennifer was sitting in the hallway with her back against the wall, still crying. I could hear the sounds of sirens approaching. “Stay where you are,” I told Jennifer. Then I got to my feet, took my gun out of my shoulder holster, walked to the front door, and deactivated the security system so I could let the cops in.

We got three patrol cars, which meant two officers and a sergeant. The two officers remained outside while the sergeant, a big, bulky guy with a crew cut and swaggering walk, came inside. “You this lady’s private security?” he asked me, looking none too pleased.

“Yes,” I said, holstering my weapon.

“What happened?” he asked, looking around. He saw Jennifer huddled near the kitchen door. “She OK?”

“She’s fine,” I said. “Just a little scared. What happened is the asshole who’s been stalking her tried to kill her. He shot through the kitchen window. He was probably using a silenced rifle with a laser sight.”

“You’re damn lucky he missed, then,” the sergeant said, shaking his head. “You think I should call detectives?”

“I think, maybe, that might be a good idea,” I said. “And you should get some forensic people in here from the state CIB, too. Maybe they can tell us the bullet’s angle of travel. It might help us locate where this asshole shot from.

The sergeant did call in detectives, and crime scene technicians. While the technicians were going over the kitchen, collecting evidence, Jennifer and I gave statements to the detectives. After I finished with my statement, I called Roscoe and let him know what happened.

“You guys OK?” he asked.

“I got lucky,” I told him. “If I hadn’t spotted the red dot from the laser sight, our client would be dead right now. We have to stop this guy, however we can.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Roscoe replied. “The cops find anything?”

“They recovered the slug, but it was pretty badly damaged,” I said. “And I think they’ll be able to establish trajectory, so we’ll have an idea where the guy was shooting from. The head of the crime scene unit said he and his guys would be back in daylight to see if they can place the spot where the shot was fired from.”

“You going to need any extra help tonight?” he asked.

“I don’t think so,” I said. “I have a feeling it will be almost daylight before the crime scene guys are done, and the detectives I talked to said they’ll leave a car outside for the rest of the night. And I plan to have Jennifer stay away from windows from now on.”

“Good idea,” Roscoe said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“OK,” I said. I put down the phone and felt a sharp twinge run down my arm. I’d forgotten about the wound I’d gotten. I figured I better get it cleaned up before I wound up with an infection, so I grabbed a first aid kit I carry out of one of my duffel bags and headed for the bathroom. Inside I slipped out of my shoulder holster, pulled off the sweater, which was going to need some serious repairs, and took off my ballistic vest, shirt, and T-shirt. Then I checked the wound by looking over my shoulder in the mirror.

I had what looked like a deep four or five-inch scratch near the top of my shoulder. It had scabbed over, so I got a washcloth wet with hot water and laid it on the scab to soften it. I had to get the scab out of the way so I could put some antiseptic on the wound. I had just begun carefully removing the scab when I heard a soft knock at the door.

“Come in,” I said.

Jennifer opened the door and took a step into the bathroom. “The officers said they saw you coming in here,” she said, “I…” I heard her inhale. “What happened? Did…did you get shot?”

“Like Marshall Dillon used to say to Miss Kitty, it’s just a scratch,” I replied. “I felt the bullet tag me when I threw you to the floor. It’s not serious. I just need to get it cleaned out and get some antiseptic on it.”

“Let…let me do that for you,” she said softly. “I can see it much better than you can.”

“I appreciate the help, ma’am,” I said, doing my best Matt Dillon impression which, actually, wasn’t all that good.

Jennifer carefully cleaned the softened scab away from the wound. Her touch was light and gentle, and it did some things to me I wasn’t sure it ought to be doing right then, but I couldn’t help myself.

“Where’s the antiseptic?” she asked once she had the wound cleaned out. “I think you’re right, it is just a scratch. But shouldn’t you have a doctor look at it?”

I shook my head. “There’s some antiseptic in the bag on the counter,” I said. “I’ve had my tetanus shot, and the stuff I have in there will kill any germs there are.”

“Are…are you sure?” she asked.

“Positive,” I said. “There are some bandages in there, too. You probably ought to cover it once you have the antiseptic on it.”

“All right,” she said. She went to work on me, her attentions gentle and caring. I’d never been nursed more wonderfully. “I told you I’ve thought about you,” she said softly as she worked on me.

“Yes,” I said.

“I realize I ended our relationship suddenly, and I’ve often wondered if you understood why,” she said as she spread the antiseptic cream gently into the wound.

“I think, maybe, this isn’t the time to talk about that,” I said. I was already far too personally involved in this case, and getting more personally involved, if that was possible, would make it difficult for me to do my job.

“Why…why not?” Jennifer asked, sounding a bit hurt. She got a small dressing and some adhesive tape out of the first aid kit and taped the dressing on the wound.

After she finished, I turned to her. “I’ve never understood why you didn’t want to see me any more, and I do want to know,” I said. “But I want the time to be right when you tell me, and I’m not sure it is right now.”

“But you saved my life,” she said, looking puzzled.

“I got lucky,” I said. “If that asshole had fired a second earlier, I’d be standing over your body, explaining to the cops why I let you get killed. When this is all over, you can tell me.”

“All…all right,” she said.

“I want you to try and get some rest,” I said. “Is there a room where you don’t have to be near a window?”

She nodded. “The back bedroom upstairs,” she said. “It’s on the opposite side of the house.” She hugged herself and a shudder went through her. “I’m not sure I can sleep.”

“Maybe you won’t be able to, but you can rest, anyhow,” I said. “I’ll be down here and the cops will be outside. I doubt Gleason is stupid enough to do anything else tonight.”

“Will you…are you sure you’ll be all right?” she asked.

I nodded. “I’ll be fine,” I said. “You go get some rest.”

“I’ll try,” Jennifer replied. She laid her hand gently on my arm. “Just be careful. I’m really sorry you got hurt.”

I laid my hand on top of hers. “I’m just happy you didn’t,” I said.

She smiled softly, took her hand from me, turned, and walked out of the room.

I went to our impromptu control center and typed a report of what happened into the computer, then I prowled the house, making sure everything was OK. It turned out Jennifer was wrong. When I checked on her, she was sound asleep.