I lingered around for a few minutes before leaving. Marty left without the slightest hint about the accident, and I wanted to know more. I finished my tea and took one last look-see out the window, but there was no sign of him anywhere.
I pushed open the front door and was met with a forceful tug on the other side. It launched me forward, bringing me up close and personal to a familiar face I hadn’t seen in a while.
“Well, well, if it isn’t little miss nosy,” he said. “Let me guess, you just happened to be in the neighborhood at the right time. Sound about right?”
“Give it a rest, Coop.”
Detective Drake Cooper stood six foot five and used every inch of his stalwartly physique to browbeat anyone who stood in his way. He had an oval-shaped head and a jacked-up nose I accredited to the various altercations he endured in the line of duty. For a man with senior-citizen status, his body was in excellent shape. Even through his sports jacket, it was obvious he packed two tickets to the gun show.
“Look,” I said, “I know about the accident.”
I figured I was already there, why not do some fishing?
“And you came by this information how?”
“Marty told me.”
Coop grabbed the door, swinging it all the way open. “Why don’t you run along now and let the big boys do their job?”
Unfortunately, the fish weren’t biting today.
Coop stood still, waiting for me to make my move.
“Anytime, sweetheart,” he said. Only it sounded a lot more like schweetheart.
To say Coop walked around with a chip on his shoulder was a gross understatement. He’d been the thorn in my otherwise lovely side for the past several years. He had an old school mindset and practiced old-school ways. Change wasn’t part of his vocabulary, and he had zero tolerance for my kind. In his eyes, I didn’t deserve the role of detective. I was just some menial PI who nosed around and stood in the way of “real” police work. Except I had earned the right, and on more than one occasion too, which made him resent me all the more.
Three years earlier Coop had lost his dream of becoming Park City’s next chief of police to Wade Sheppard, a detective with half the experience. Life had dealt him an unfair hand, and now everyone else paid the price. And they did, in spades.
* * * * *
Lord Berkeley, a.k.a. Boo, spun around in circles when I arrived home. I scooped him up and carried him to the kitchen.
“And how’s your day going, Boo, hmmm? Miss me?”
He tilted his head to the side and wagged his tail.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
I stroked him a few more times and set him down. He trotted off to the sofa and then jumped up on it and waited.
I fished through the dishwasher for my favorite mug. It was white with a saying written on the front: Man cannot live on chocolate alone, but a woman sure can. I reached for my kettle, filled it with water, and turned on the stove. I thought about the look on Marty’s face earlier. It worried me. I grabbed my phone and dialed his number, but he didn’t answer. I left a message.
A few minutes later the teapot let out a familiar whistle. I poured the water, joined Lord Berkeley on the sofa, and the two of us sat back and took in the stillness of the lake through the window.
My phone rang to Louis Armstrong’s “A kiss to build a dream on”.
“Good evening, Detective Calhoun,” I said.
“I wanted to thank you for last night.”
“It’s me who should be thanking you…for the lovely evening, and the even lovelier ending.”
“While we are on the subject, do you want to talk about it?”
“I thought we just did,” I said.
“You know what I mean.”
I sensed the disappointment in his voice and wished I could avoid the subject all together.
“Come on, Sloane, you know how I feel.”
“And you know how I feel.”
As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I realized I’d said the wrong thing. Too late.
“Are you serious? Every time I try to have the us talk, you shut down. To be honest, I have no idea what to think.”
“I don’t know what to say,” I said.
“I’m ready, and I thought you were too.”
In truth, Nick had convinced himself I was ready because that’s what he wanted. “You still there?”
“I’m here,” I said.
“Try something for me, okay. Quiet all the chaos in your head, stop finding a reason to poke holes in everything, and give me an honest answer.”
In a world full of men who would rather shoot themselves with a nail gun than converse about the current state of affairs in their relationship, Nick was the one exception.
“I suppose you’re right,” I said. “We should talk it out.”
“When?”
“I need some time,” I said.
“How much?”
“I’d like to at least sleep on it.”
“How about we meet tomorrow night for dinner, and you can tell me where you’re at with everything?”
“Sounds good,” I said, ending the call.
If only I had meant it.
The next step in the relationship consisted of cohabitation. Combining two separate universes into one solid entity. Mi casa es su casa. Nick only saw things one way: point A to point B. In his mind, point B should have happened a long time ago. He made it clear he wasn’t going to wait forever. It was crunch time, the bottom of the ninth, and I had exhausted all of my reasons about why we shouldn’t, and he had exhausted all his reasons about why we should. Nick always said he considered himself a why not person. I was the opposite. My entire life was made up of whys. Why did we need to take the next step in our relationship? Why couldn’t things stay the same? He was right; I did poke holes in things.
Lord Berkeley woke suddenly and barked at a rather large shadow outside the window. The night had blanketed the sky, and it was too dark for me to see what ailed him. I tiptoed over to the window and peered out. In the soft glow of the street lamp, I saw a mother moose and its baby cross the yard. She took a few steps and turned, making sure the little one was still in tow.
“It’s okay, Boo,” I said, patting him on the head.
My phone rang again, but this time it was Marty.
“I’ve had you on my mind all day today,” I said. “Is everything okay?”
He paused.
“Actually my dear, it isn’t. It’s been a long day, and a tragic one at that.”
“What happened?”
“It’s one of the skiers, she’s dead.”