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That night, Connie’s doorbell rang just as she finished cooking the beef cutlets. “Just a minute!” She hurried to the front door and checked the peephole. “What the hell?”
CeCe Babbitt stood on her front porch with flowers and candy.
Connie held her breath, cracking open the door. “CeCe?”
His mouth widened into a huge smile, showing his front teeth. “Hello, Detective Wilks.” He gazed at her with his head to the side. “Am I interrupting you?”
“What are you doing here?”
“I brought these for you.” His watched her with a glassy gaze. “Here you go.” He held out the assorted flowers and heart-shaped box. “I hope you like flowers and candy.”
“Um..” She took the items. “Why would you bring me flowers and candy?”
He caught his bottom lip between his teeth. “Why not?”
“Some would say this isn’t appropriate.”
“I wanted to do something nice for you.” He put his hands in his pockets.
“It’s...it’s sweet of you.” She faked a smile. “But, you shouldn’t have.” She set the candy and flowers on the grayish-green console table by the door. “Is there something else you wanted?”
“May I come in?” He inched forward.
“Uh—”
“I heard you spoke to my aunt again.” He glanced at her blouse. “I’d like to clear up any misconceptions you might have about me.” He licked his lips with an eerie glint in his eyes. “Can we talk?”
Without answering, she slammed the door and watching him through the peephole.
CeCe remained in his spot, staring at the door.
Connie got her cellphone out her jeans and peeked at CeCe as she selected Winston’s number.
“Hey, Connie,” Winston answered. “What’s up?”
“You won’t believe this.” She watched CeCe who paced on her stoop with his head down. “CeCe Babbitt is at my house. He brought me flowers and candy.”
“What?” Winston half-chuckled. “You gotta be kidding me.”
“I’m not.” She rubbed the top of her head. “He’s just standing there on the porch looking crazy. Says he wants to talk.”
“Then talk to him. Maybe he wants to confess or something.”
She took another deep breath, fidgeting.
“Are you afraid?” He sighed. “Thinking about Larose?”
“I’m a cop.” She shut her eyes. “I shouldn’t be afraid to open my damn door.”
“You want me to come over there and we can talk to him together?”
She glanced out the peephole again.
CeCe rocked with his arms crossed.
“I can if you want me to,” Winston said.
“No. I’ll talk to him.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, like you said he might want to confess or something and I might be the only person he’ll talk to if he likes me.”
“Okay, call me and let me know what he says.”
“I will. Thanks, Winston.”
“Sure.”
She hung up, got her gun from the living room and answered the front door.
Once again, the goofy smile covered CeCe’s face. “Why did you close the door?”
“Uh—”
“Do I scare you?” He sighed. “I do, don’t I? You think I’m strange like everyone else.”
“No. Please come in.”
“Thanks.” He walked in, checking out the hallway. “Your place is nice.” He touched the console table. “I like the table. Do you like the flowers?” He got the bouquet. “I like the green paper they wrapped them in.” He chuckled. “It matches your pretty eyes.”
Connie took them. “Thanks again. Would you like something to eat or drink?”
“I could use some water.” He rubbed the sides of his jeans. “Thanks.”
“Okay.” She led him into the living room. “Please have a seat and I’ll be right back.”
He nodded, smiling.
Connie laid the flowers on the table when she got into the kitchen. After grabbing the water jug from the refrigerator, she turned right into CeCe. “Ah!”
“Sorry.” He exhaled.
“CeCe.” Connie exhaled, smashing the cup and jug to her chest. “I told you to wait in the living room.”
“Sorry.” He chuckled through dry lips. “I thought you might’ve needed help.”
“No, Jesus.” She struggled to hold the cup still so she could pour the water into it.
“You’re shaking. Damn it.” He hit his forehead. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay.” She handed him the cup of water. “Is there anything else you need?”
He sipped, staring at her. “No, thank you.”
“We can talk in here if you like.” She sat at the kitchen table, taking a big breath.
He scooted a chair close to her before sitting. “Your kitchen’s pretty.” He touched the pleated, white tablecloth. “Everything’s white.”
She nodded.
“White fridge.” He pointed to it. “White stove.” He tapped his feet. “White tile. Is white your favorite color?”
“No, it just worked out this way.”
“What’s your favorite color?” He put his elbow on the table and propped his hand under his chin.
“Maroon.”
“Maroon?” His eyes rolled skyward. “I bet you look great in maroon. You’d look great in anything.”
She cleared her throat, pulling on her blouse. “What did you wanna talk about—”
“Are you a natural blonde?”
“Yes.” She pushed her hands between her thighs.
“Are you from Baltimore?” He straightened in the chair.
“I am.”
“Your parents still living?” He nibbled his thumb. “Family here?”
“I’d like to get to know you, CeCe.”
“You have a boyfriend?” He looked at her ring finger. “You live here alone, right?”
“Yes, I live alone.” Her gun pressed against her butt when she wiggled. “And, yes I have a boyfriend.”
“Hm.” He moved his lips in and out. “He’s a lucky guy. Is it Detective Lewis? I thought maybe you and he had something going.”
She laughed. “Oh, no. Winston and I are just friends. I’m dating Grayson Paul.”
“The Grayson Paul?” He dropped his arm from the table. “Grayson Paul the writer?”
She nodded.
“No way,” he howled. “I love his work. Wow.” He covered his mouth. “Man, I wish I could meet him. You’re Grayson Paul’s girlfriend?”
Connie beamed with pride.
“On one hand I’m disappointed you got a boyfriend but I’m ecstatic it’s one of my favorite writers. Do you think you could get me his autograph?”
“Eh, we’ll see.”
“Grayson Paul.” He bounced in the seat. “Man, wait until my aunt hears this. She loves his work too.”
“Your aunt told you we spoke to her earlier?”
He gnashed his teeth. “I didn’t kill Prisha.”
“You were a suspect in Jeanette Dobbins’ murder, weren’t you?”
He balled his fist, shaking.
“Wanna talk about that?”
“I thought she was different.” His cheeks reddened. “But, she was just like the others. They tried to pin her murder on me, but I didn’t do it. That’s why I got off.”
“CeCe?” She touched his hand. “You can be honest with me. I’d like to help you anyway I can. Did Prisha make you angry?”
He looked away from her, rocking. “Yeah.”
“Why?”
“All I wanted to do was be her friend.” His mouth twitched. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be to those women but they misjudge me. Women talk about me behind my back and make fun of me. They think I don’t see it or hear it but I do.” He pressed his lips together. “They think they’re better than me.”
“I bet that’s a bad feeling, huh?”
“Why are women so afraid of me?” He turned toward her. “I’m a nice guy. I just like pretty girls. Is that so bad?”
“Is there anything you want to tell me about Prisha?”
“She deserved what she got.” He rubbed his knuckles. “If she’d treated me better, it wouldn’t have happened.”
“Excuse me?”
“I didn’t kill her but her murder was karma just like Jeanette’s.” He rocked faster. “Why do women think they can treat people anyway they like and get away with it? They have men jumping over hoops with no intentions of giving them a chance. They smile and flirt and bat their eyes then when you take them up on it they scream harassment or rape.”
Connie shuddered.
“Women whine about equal rights and not having their fair share but if you ask me they own this whole world fuckin’ world. Men cater to women and get nothing in return. Not even a cup of coffee or a phone call.” He squinted. “Nothing but accusations and lies.”
“Sounds like you have deep resentment for women.”
“I’m a lover not a killer.” He stood, gaze penetrating her. “I want you. I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you.”
Connie noticed the protrusion in the seat of his pants. “CeCe—”
He licked his lips as he watched hers. “I’d better go now before I...”
She hooked her quivering fingers. “Before you what?”
“Nothing.” He turned from her, covering his crotch as if ashamed of the erection. “If you and Grayson break up, let me know, okay?” He rushed out the kitchen.
Connie waited until the front door slammed and let out a huge breath.
“Jesus.” She shook her head, batting her eyes. “What the fuck was that?”