Rita Hayworth's Shoes (15 page)

“Huh?” she asked, now completely confused.

“Heimlich's dolls. Tell me you still have them?”

“What does that even mean? The dolls? Who cares about the dolls?”

His face went dark again. “The fucking dolls, Amy. Do you have them?” he bellowed, and she backed away. The ferocity of this outburst wasn't lost on anyone.

“On second thought,” Franks said, staring point-blank at Deck, “Patterson, why don't we use those cuffs. Until we know what's what.”

As Amy watched two uniformed police officers and her best friend's boyfriend take away the man who just hours ago could have been the man she loved, Hannah quietly approached. “I'm so sorry, Amy. I really am. But I always knew there was something off about that guy.”

###

Later that day, Amy Ann Miller met with the department head, Dr. Bateman, to submit her formal resignation as assistant to Professor Decklin Thomas, or any professor for that matter. Three days after that, she set herself to the task of cleaning out her own workspace. This was just what she was doing when David came back into her life. “Hey,” was all he said.

She looked up. “Hey.”

He didn't say anything for a minute, just watched her, and then, “Sorry about your boss.”

“He isn't my boss anymore,” she said flatly.

“Oh. All right then,” he shrugged his shoulders. “So no biggie.”

“He
was
my friend.”

“Okay. Sorry. I guess I can't say anything right around you anymore.”

Despite everything, she couldn't help but feel bad for David. “No. I'm sorry,” she said. “It really isn't a big deal. I'm just a bit overwhelmed by everything is all. Let's start over. How are you doing? How's Liz?”

“Funny you should ask,” he said. “She kind of left.”

“What do you mean
left
?”

“She said she wasn't happy. She was looking for new adventures or something.”

“Seems like a new trend,” Amy scoffed.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Don't worry about it.”

“Sure,” he said.

“There's more,” he continued. “She said I wasn't the one.”

“Tough break,” she sneered.

“I know,” he half laughed. “Pretty ironic, eh?”

She had nothing to say.

“So, what are you up to?” he asked.

“Just finishing up here,” she said.

“I know. But what I meant was, what are you doing later?”

She cocked one eyebrow at him, suspicious of his intentions but opting to play it cool. “Getting ready for my defense.”

“Right,” he nodded. “Hey, maybe I could help you prepare?”

“I'm not so sure,” she hedged.

“I guess I deserve that,” he shook his head. “But hey, maybe you can let me buy you a cup of coffee or something sometime?”

She watched him, shifting from one foot to the other, and looking about as nervous as a junior high student asking a girl out for the first time. It disarmed her. “I guess I don't see why not,” she said.

“Great!” he replied. “Tomorrow maybe?”

She eyed him for a minute, this beautiful man who had stolen so much of her heart, so much of her life, and couldn't help but wonder if this wasn't a huge mistake waiting to happen. But she was as curious as anyone is when driving by a car wreck. “Sure,” she said.

About a week or two later, Amy entered the precinct building from the pouring rain and shook out her umbrella. She had to do a double take, however, as the precinct wasn't like anything she'd seen in the movies or on TV, where they're all beige and gray and dreary.

This precinct was definitely different. It was almost cheerful. At least in the lobby, where the walls were paneled in a rich mahogany hue. There was a square coffee table covered with magazines. A couch and a couple of comfortable chairs surrounded the table. A variety of plants set around the room softened the effect. On the back wall, a giant fish tank was home to a rainbow assortment of saltwater fish. Though aside from a uniformed officer manning the front desk, the space was empty.

She nodded at the officer as she looked around and spotted Deck in a far room, his back to the door. Franks saw her come in; he waved and whispered something to Deck, who didn't turn around.

“Hi, Amy,” he said, giving her a much warmer hug than he had the other day as he greeted her in the lobby. He motioned for her to follow him to a nearby interrogation room, but she couldn't take her eyes off Deck.

“What's he doing in there?” she asked.

“Scrabble, of course,” he explained. “I'm letting him win.”

“I guess that'll help things a little,” she said.

“You look different,” Ollie said, sizing her up. “What's different about you? You're not ill?”

“No,” she replied, puzzled.

“Huh,” he said, unconvinced. “Must be the weather then,” he said, but she didn't hear him, because she was distracted by the sight of an enormous cat, the biggest cat she had ever seen. She couldn't take her eyes off the giant fur ball as it ventured up to the table where Deck sat and rubbed up against his leg.

“What
is
that?” she gasped.

Franks smirked at her. “That's his cat,” he answered, matter-of-factly. “You never met Fluffy?”

“Are you sure that's a cat and not a giant raccoon?”

“It's a Maine coon. She's a big one all right, but she's mostly harmless.”

Amy smiled. “Since when are you allowed to bring your pets to jail with you?” she asked and watched Deck lift and affectionately cuddle the enormous animal.

Now she found herself getting angry. “And why is he here anyway? Do you really have to hold him here? You know as well as I do that he didn't harm that woman. That he's innocent.”

“And here I thought you didn't care,” he smirked. “I'm not holding him here,” he said. “He's free to go if he wants. He just chooses not to.”

“I don't get it.”

“I told you he spent a lot of time here after Marny vanished the first time, right? I think he feels better being here, than at home. Alone.” The accusation stabbed Amy right through the heart. It would be too complicated if she chose to defend herself, so she remained silent.

“Anyway, I'm sure he'd love to talk to you,” he said.

“Sure,” she said, and she followed Ollie down the hall.

“You're back!” screamed Deck as they approached. “Wait till you see what I have for you!” he said jumping up. “Double-letter score for ALL! It's simple and
strategic
!”

Amy and Ollie both shook their heads, both immediately knowing he could have gotten more points had he used the homonym and placed the “W” from his tray on the actual “double letter” square instead.

Deck was oblivious, beaming with pride as if he'd just discovered a cure for cancer, but seeing Amy, his face fell. “It's you.”

“Hi, Deck,” she said. “How's it going?”

“I guess it's been better. And I guess it's also been worse. Please sit,” he said, motioning to the empty chair on the other side of the table.

“Let's give these two some privacy,” said Ollie, scooping up Fluffy. “We'll be right outside if you need. Just give a holler,” he said, and closed the door behind him.

“You look different,” he said, not looking at her.

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” she asked, blowing her drooping bangs out of her face.

“So, how's everything going at Stratton?” he asked, nonchalantly.

“I don't really know. I'm not really there anymore. I resigned, just like I said I would. I even set my date for—”

“Surely you must be aware of some of the comings and goings,” he scoffed. “Surely reptile boy fills you in on the daily grind?”

That one took her by surprise. “How did you know about that?”

“I have my sources,” he snapped, and looked away.

“What sources?” she wondered.

“Hannah, for one,” he said.

“Hannah?” she asked, slightly scandalized, slightly confused.

“Why do you care?”

“For one, it's her fault you're even here,” she said. “Not to mention that she's in the freaking rain forest. How would she know anything? And how would she tell you?”

“I know she's in the rain forest. Seems like a pretty incredible adventure if you ask me. Did you know there are hundreds of undiscovered peoples–”

“She called you? You've corresponded?”

“Corresponded?” he smirked. “What is this, 1940?” He paused momentarily. “Facebook.”

“Facebook?”

“Yes, you know. Facebook. Social networking? You've heard of it?”

“I know what it is,” she replied, slightly defensive as she herself wasn't on it and barely understood what it was all about.

“A remarkable invention really,” he said. “A wellspring of useless information that once you tap into, you really can't do without. And did you know you can play Scrabble on Facebook? With anyone in the world?'

“I knew that,” she lied.

“I'm really kind of addicted to it,” he said, picking up one of his tiles and placing it in the front of the rest of the letters in his rack. “Makes you see things in a whole new light.”

“I still don't understand…”

“Look, it's very simple. Hannah friended me, and I accepted her request.”

“Okay…” “And so now I've been following her travels through her status updates. A truly interesting person, really.”

“Really?”

“So smart and witty and full of insight. And totally freaking fearless,” he said, his eyes all alight. “Just an all-around beautiful person. I can't believe I never noticed it before. I can't believe I never gave her a chance.”

“Oh,” said Amy, her heart and her stomach beginning to tighten. Yet Deck would not stop talking.

“Amazing work she's doing down there,” he said, and he smiled in a way that made Amy more than a little uncomfortable, more than a little jealous. She decided to ignore it.

“Well I still don't see how you can know about David and me—”

He shook his head in the manner one would do to someone regarded as having been born yesterday or shortly thereafter. “He's on Facebook, too.”

“You're
friends
with David?”

“Absolutely not. But she is.”

“She's friends with him? Why would she be friends with him?” Amy stared blankly at Deck.

“Yep. And I can see his status updates through her profile. So I guess,” he gave her a sly smile, “that Hannah didn't tell me at all that the two of you were back together. David did.”

“This is too weird.”

“That, and it's written all over you. Look at you,” he spat, disgustedly.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“He's gotten to you again, hasn't he?” he said, looking her up and down.

“I don't know what you mean,” she said as she absently smoothed her hair. She took a deep breath as she tried to change the subject. “How's it going with you?” she asked, sincerely.

“Me? I'm doing tremendously. My prodigal wife came back into my life and ruined me again—and then ran off. Again. So I spend my days and most nights here, trying to figure out if I'm more angry at her or…” he trailed off.

“Or what?”

He shook his head. “Let's just forget it, shall we? Because if things had not turned out as they did, how would I ever have ended up in this glorious place like this?”

“I don't see how—”

“No imagination at all, Amy! Just look around you.
Is this not the best of all possible worlds
?”

“You don't
need
to be here. You aren't being detained here—”

“Ah, but I like it here,” he snapped. “What's not to like?”

Amy had no response; she was starting to feel as though Deck had flipped his lid, and wondered if he would now be losing it completely.

“Let's cut the crap, Amy. Why are
you
here? Do you really give a shit about what happens to me?”

“They don't think you killed her, Deck. Ollie—”

“Of course I didn't kill her,” he bellowed. “I never hurt another living thing in my life.” She opened her mouth to speak. “Aside from the fish,” he said, a flash of rage in his eyes. “I don't even know why I trusted you with that. I don't know why I ever trusted you with anything.”

She was confused and now starting to feel a little scared. “I just don't know what to say.”

He laughed. “Hey, maybe you killed her. Isn't that your specialty?”

She gasped. “How could you say that? You don't mean that.”

“No,” he cut her off. “I don't mean it. But does it really matter?” he asked, and looked back down at the Scrabble board. “You should know that I'm pretty much done with impossible women,” he said.

“I guess I should be going,” she said, and she turned to leave.

“I guess you should,” he barked. She got up and headed for the door.

“He's pretty excited about taking you to the reptile convention,” he called after her. “David is. He's been writing about it all week. I bet you can't wait!”

She stopped and looked at him. “I…I really don't know what to say.”

“How about good-bye,” he barked, and she turned again. “But before you go…”

She stopped, feeling inside a glimmer of hope that they could turn things around, they could start over again. “Yes?”

“Where are the dolls?”

“The dolls?”

“The dolls, Amy. Where are the damned dolls. Jesus! Do you still have them or not?” he snapped so harshly, his words felt like daggers that tore through her heart.

Her eyes filled with tears. “What does it matter?” she asked, and she stormed out.