Only Love Matters Box Set

Chapter 2

Chapter 2A month later, I took a walk in the park, the wind a little brisk on this fall day as I huddled in my jacket. My thoughts were messy, at best. It had become a frequent occurrence to see Jerry and Henry together over the past few weeks, either cuddling outside Henry’s door or hand in hand on their way out to wherever. Jerry hadn’t called or texted me once to come over for a quickie. I should be happy or at least relieved, right?

The only time he had contacted me was the day before, to say he wouldn’t be stopping by anymore. He’d actually told me that he was going through his contacts and deleting all his regular f***s because he had found “the one”. I’d almost dropped the phone when he’d informed me of this. Jerry had been looking for his one-and-only? Why couldn’t that have been me? Why wasn’t I enough, ever? It had thrown me off-kilter to realize that Jerry, the forever man-w***e, was settling down, and for better or worse, I was alone again.

So, I walked, and I pondered, and I lost track of time on a Sunday afternoon as the sun rolled across the sky and leaves fell on the ground. As I wandered by a thick copse of trees, I heard the sound of someone running. Probably one of those fitness types I saw every so often out here. And then, I was almost knocked over.

Catching my balance, I watched the retreating figure, taking in dark blue jeans with patches of white, likely from bleach, a gray hooded pullover, and a slender build. The runner glanced back at me briefly before facing forward. I noted a sallow face, stringy blond hair, dark eyes—maybe gray or brown—and red spots on his skin. He looked young—in his twenties, maybe.

I briefly wondered why he would be exercising in jeans, of all things, shaking my head when my eye caught something shiny to the left of where I stood. Thinking someone had probably dropped a piece of jewelry or whatever, I walked over and realized it was a watch, attached to the hand of a man lying flat on his back.

He was dead.

When my heart started beating again, I looked around. No one else was in sight. I looked at the man again. His forehead and the grass underneath were bloody from the gash in his skull which exposed his brain, and his auburn hair was matted. His light-colored, lifeless eyes were wide-open—and his mouth was frozen in a grimace of surprise, pain and fear. I knew I should do something, but I was in a state of shock.

Eventually, I heard a dog barking in the distance and snapped to, taking my phone out and dialing 911. It was after five when I made the call.

I was still there, after the sun went down, the area swarming with police and medics and onlookers. Aside from confirming I was the one who had found the body and getting some information from me, I was ignored as they secured the scene, or whatever. I needed to pay more attention to TV crime dramas, I guess.

Turning to leave, figuring I’d outlived my usefulness, an African American man, taller than even me, came over to where I stood. He was built like a wall and his clothing fit almost too well for my peace of mind, likely custom made for his massive frame.

“Mr. Lysander Fitzgibbon?” he said, taking out a tablet and tapping the screen to make it bright. His voice…wow.

“Call me Fitz, please.” I hated my first name. What had my mother been thinking?

“Fitz, then,” he replied. The light emanating from the tablet revealed honey-brown eyes in a hard, handsome face, hair shaved close to the skull and a moustache and beard practically sculpted on his skin. Luscious lips, skin the color of mahogany. I wanted to rut against this very hot officer of the law, and all my resolutions could go to hell. I tried to control my thoughts. Now was really not the time.

“I am Detective Simms. You live near here?” I nodded. “Were you acquainted with the deceased?”

“No. That was the first time I ever laid eyes on him.”

Simms typed something on the screen. “You sure about that?” The look he gave me could best be described as suspicious, to say the least.

I remained calm. “Very sure.”

“Tell me how you discovered the body,” he said, eyes boring into me as if to catch me in a lie. Unlucky for him, I dealt with recalcitrant and belligerent behavior all day long, and before that, Liberal Studies majors with something to prove.

My brow furrowed. “I already gave my statement to—”

“Tell me, again, if you please,” he cut in, firmly. Yes, sir, Mr. Policeman.

“As I told the other officers, I was taking a walk in the park, contemplating how my life sucked, when the sun reflected off something that caught my eye. I thought someone had dropped something valuable so I went to see what it was. I discovered a watch, and of course, the body.”

“And the watch is still there. You some kind of good Samaritan?” Why was he baiting me?

“I beg your pardon?”

“Never mind.” Simms typed away on the tablet. “Your life sucks, does it?” If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was amused by me. Whether it was in a good or bad way, I wasn’t sure. And it was my own fault for bringing it up, anyway.

I played along. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“I see. Anything else occur around the time you came across the deceased?”

“Not really. Well, this dude almost knocked me down right before I saw the dead guy. He was wearing jeans and a hoodie, and I couldn’t help wondering why someone would exercise dressed like that. And—”

Simms’s voice was sharp when he interrupted me. “You didn’t mention this to the other officers?”

“I didn’t think about it.” And I’d still been recovering from shock over the ordeal, so I hadn’t yet put two and two together. Though in hindsight…God, I was an i***t.

I heard Detective Simms sigh and murmur, “Moron.”

I frowned. “Was I supposed to hear you say that?”

“Well, you did, right? So, the man who almost knocked you over was wearing jeans and a hooded sweatshirt?” His thumbs moved rapidly as he spoke.

I bit back a growl. “Dark blue jeans with bleach spots and a gray hoodie. Slender. Caucasian. He looked back at me briefly and I got the impression of, I don’t know, brown or gray eyes and stringy blond hair, blotchy skin. Maybe he had acne, or something. In his twenties.”

Simms threw his hands in the air, tablet still held in a firm grip. “Jesus, how dumb are you? This is a f*****g important clue. Anything else you might have seen that you didn’t tell us?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Detective Simms, your attitude and assumptions about my mental acuity are not helping me cooperate with you. I apologize for not saying what I knew sooner, but you can understand my shock. Or not. We’re not all macho over-achievers who eat bullets for breakfast. I suggest you change your tone.”

“Acuity? Big word. Calm down, princess. I know not everyone can be as quick on the draw as someone trained to look for connections in these things, especially under stressful situations.” His grin and smug demeanor infuriated me further.

“That’s supposed to make me feel better? Have you always been a condescending asshole?” The minute the words came out of my mouth, I thought, He has a gun. He’s going to shoot me. But I didn’t back down. My backbone had finally made an appearance, though its timing could have been better.

“Panties in a twist is a good look on you.” His laughter was the last straw. All the disappointments and heartache in my life boiled up and my fist flew without my permission.

* * * *

Later that night, as I lay in bed, I decided I’d been lucky Simms hadn’t thrown me in jail. All he’d done was rub his cheek, raise an eyebrow, and send me home to cool off. “I’ll be in touch,” were his parting words. He hadn’t even had the decency to stumble back or look as though he’d been affected by a punch to the jaw. My knuckles were sore, though.

I turned over and thumped a pillow, wincing at the pain in my fist and willing myself to sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, though, images of the dead man swam before me and I would wake up again. At this rate, I was going to have a crappy Monday.

I hadn’t had such a strong reaction to another man in, well, never. Detective Simms had pushed every last one of my buttons, and all I could think to do was fight back. Nothing else was possible. Had it felt good to feel my balls drop in pride instead of disappearing like pebbles? Sure, but at what cost? It usually took a lot for me to lose my temper, but it had barely taken a few minutes to push me over the edge with Simms. I’d have to be careful around him if we ever had the misfortune to see each other again.

When I awoke before the alarm after finally getting a couple of hours sleep, I wanted to cry, I was so tired. I sat on the edge of the bed, head a little fuzzy and headache looming. I could call in sick, but I wasn’t sure I’d be able to sleep anymore, at least not right away. I shuffled to the bathroom and showered in cold water, dressing in my uniform of white shirt and black pants and boots before seeking out lots and lots of coffee. I needed to attain some semblance of normalcy before I had to deal with my unadoring public.

When I told Randy about the night before on our lunch break, he stared at me for a moment before cracking up. Bastard.

“What’s so funny?” I demanded, kicking his leg under the table.

“It’s…it’s not that it’s funny, really,” he said between breaths. “You…you punched a cop because he called you a princess?” And he was off again.

“It was ‘panties in a twist’—get it right. And did you miss the part where I saw a dead man and a detective was mean to me?” Yes, I was whining.

Randy wiped his eyes. “No, but I wish I could have seen your face.”

I crossed my arms on my chest and pouted. “You’re not my friend.”

“Yes, I am. That’s why I can laugh at you.” He snickered, then sobered. “Are you all right, though? That must have been scary, seeing something like that.”

Mildly mollified, I replied, “I didn’t even know what to do, what to think. And all the blood…” I shuddered at the memory. “Then that asshole detective came along and made things worse.”

“You deal with assholes all the time. What made this one burrow under your skin?” Randy studied me for a second, then smirked. “He was hot, wasn’t he?”

“What? No!” My denial was too loud and quick to be believable, and Randy picked up on it, naturally.

“I knew it! You punched a cop you wanted to bone. Oh my god, this is awesome! I wish I’d been there.” He rubbed his hands together with too much glee for my liking. Maybe a murder was in his future.

“Why do I even talk to you?” I huffed, shaking my head as he chortled all over again. “I’m going back to work, idiot.”

“You better keep me posted on this, lover boy. I want to hear what happens next.”

“Don’t hold your breath.”

* * * *

I was just falling asleep on Tuesday night when I heard a knock on the door. What the f**k? No one, not even Jerry, had ever bothered me after eleven o’clock in the evening. Grumpy, I sat up in bed and threw off the covers, disturbing Rapunzel, who hissed at me and disappeared somewhere before I stomped over to the door, and yanked it open. Rapunzel reappeared and I had to use my foot to keep her from darting out into the corridor since I wasn’t in the mood to go chasing after her at this time of night. Anytime, really.

“What?” I snapped before realizing who stood there, which made me glower even more.

“Do you always greet your guests like this?” Detective Simms asked, smirking as his hot eyes checked me out from head to toe. Why did he have to look so good even at such a late hour? The comparison of his snug, dark purple turtleneck underneath a gray jacket, and slacks—all fitting perfectly—to my shabby attire was pitiful, as I was wearing old, heavily paint-stained cut-off sweatpants from long ago projects and a snug T-shirt that had more holes than fabric and emphasized my ample tummy. Who knew what my hair looked like?

“I rarely have guests, and I was trying to sleep. What do you want, detective?”

“Still in a snit, I see,” was his charming response. His smirk didn’t help, either.

I slammed the door in his face, locked it, and carried Rapunzel back to bed. Simms started banging on the door. I let him. I would call the cops and have his fellow officers take care of him, which would please me mightily. Plus, my neighbors would start complaining in no time. Snuggling under the covers, I closed my eyes, a smile on my face for the first time all day.

And then my cellphone rang. Swearing, I grabbed it from the bedside table and looked at the caller I.D. Holland Simms. No way. I answered the call. “I suppose you have access to all kinds of information about me, detective, but I have to be up at three-thirty in the morning to go to work. Piss off.”

“I need to talk to you about the case. We either do it now, or I stalk you on your bus route until you talk to me.” That he already knew that much about my life was disturbing.

The nerve of this guy. “Isn’t that illegal, or something?” I rubbed my eyes. “Look, I will come down to your precinct after my shift is over. Text me the address. I don’t want you anywhere near my home again, got me?”

“Fitz, come on. I—” Whatever else he said was lost since I hung up. Enough already.