The Devil She Knew (3 page)

“You got furniture and stuff?”

Cassidy looked up and edged the glasses up her nose with her forefinger. “No. But I saw an ad in the paper that was here yesterday that someone was selling a couch and a chair. I called and can go look at it tomorrow. I’m off at one o’clock.”

“You ride the bus. How you gonna buy furniture from someone and get it to your place?”

The entry bell chimed and Cassidy stood up. “I haven’t figured that part out yet.”

• • •

Domestics. Clay hated responding to a domestic disturbance call. A lot of them hit too close to home. The shouting. The fighting. The fear that it would escalate to something so much worse. It was bad for the cop responding to the call and bad for the poor schmucks fighting. He’d had a year of that in his own home. One long marital year of picking and bickering and that final slap.

Only one hour left in his shift when this call came over the radio. His luck. He mentally reviewed his anger management training. Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “For every minute you remain angry, you give up sixty seconds of peace of mind.”

Clay strived for peace of mind, rarely losing his temper any more. He had pretty well mastered the respond-instead-of-react technique. When he felt his temper rise, he consciously opened his hand and splayed his fingers. The exact opposite of making a fist. It served to keep him on balance. But it had taken a hard year of marriage to Lauren to get him where he was today. And that slap.

He stopped the patrol car in front of the address dispatch had given. His police sergeant stood on the front porch with a heavyset balding man wearing a Cleveland Browns sweatshirt. A can of beer lay on the top porch step, and the man pointed toward the front door, showed the sergeant a red spot on his head, then motioned toward the can.

Getting out of the car, Clay chuckled. Beer this early? It served him right.

• • •

Day three on the job and the assistant manager, Rosie, was on the schedule with Amber and Cassidy. Rosie made it clear she didn’t like Amber and that she would assume Cassidy’s training. Rosie had the most seniority of all the store employees and she did her job efficiently. But she acted like a jail warden watching Cassidy’s every move.

Unlike Amber, who let Cassidy think through the process so she could learn it, Rosie stepped in and took over, pushing her hands from the keyboard and correcting Cassidy in front of the customers.

She shredded the small bit of confidence Cassidy had in the first twenty minutes of her shift.

Amber smiled and winked reassuringly when Rosie took a phone call and walked into the back office to check a customer’s account. “Don’t let her scare you,” Amber whispered. “You’re doing fine. And you’re outta here in a couple hours. I’m stuck with her all day.”

“She makes me so nervous.”

“Don’t let her. She knows she can’t boss me around because I know this job better than her. So she has to boss you around to feel important.”

She nodded toward the two copy machines at the front of the store.

“When you hear her hang up, go check the paper supply in the drawers. She’s a stickler for that. It will impress her.”

Amber reached under the counter where the pens were stored and grabbed a handful to fill the customer pen cup. “You still gonna go look at furniture this afternoon?”

Cassidy nodded.

“You figure out what to do if you buy it?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, if it’s not giant pieces maybe we can tie it into the back of my trunk or something. If you decide to buy it, I’ll try to help you move it.”

Amber drove a ten-year old faded green Ford Escort with a dented rear bumper, a stone-chipped windshield, and oversized pink fuzzy dice hanging from the rearview mirror. It didn’t look like it could make it until tomorrow, let alone serve as a U-haul. And Cassidy couldn’t afford to get friendly with anyone.

“Thanks, Amber, but I don’t want to put you out.”

The entry bell chimed. Amber turned and broke out into a wide grin.

“Hey C.C. You have a truck, don’t you?”

Clay nodded yes.

“Cassidy needs to borrow a truck. Will you rent her yours? She needs a driver, too,” Amber added, laughing. “She’s gotta go pick up some furniture.”

Cassidy fought her panic. “Ah, no. Really. Amber’s kidding. I’m fine.” She held up her hands in front of her and signaled no, like a hockey referee signaling no goal.

Amber turned and raised her eyebrow, causing the tiny star on the eyebrow ring to twinkle. “He’s a police officer. It’s his job to help the public. And you just said you don’t know how you are going to get your furniture to your apartment. I’m sure C.C. won’t mind helping, will you C.C.?”

Cassidy stood shaking her head. “I haven’t even seen the furniture yet, Amber. I’m not certain I’m going to buy it.” She turned to Clay. “Thanks, but I’m fine.”

“I do have a pickup. If you need some help, I’m off tomorrow. I could help for a couple hours,” he offered.

“No, really. That’s very kind, but I don’t think so.”

“She’s scared of her own shadow, C.C. She needs the help. Don’t take no for an answer.”

“Amber! Stop! I don’t need any help.”

Amber raised both eyebrows but tightened her lips and used her thumb and forefinger to motion that she’d zipped them closed. Cassidy turned to Clay again.

“Really, I’m fine.”

“What time do you get off work? I’ll pick you up here at the store. Where do we have to go to get the furniture?”

“You have to go in the morning. She’s on the schedule to come in at two and work until close,” Amber said. Cassidy glared at her and Amber re-zipped her lips.

“That works better for me actually. Do you want me to pick you up here or at your place?”

“You really don’t have to do this,” Cassidy said. Suddenly, her stomach knotted and her body temperature soared to a thousand degrees. The last thing she wanted was a cop asking her questions. Damn Amber.

Clay waved his hand. “It’s not a big deal. What time and where?”

After he left the store, Cassidy turned on Amber, her nostrils flaring. “Why did you do that? I don’t even know him. I don’t want him knowing where I live or taking me anywhere.”

“He’s a cop. You can trust him,” Amber shot back. “And he probably doesn’t care where you live. He’s seen worse places than Fortieth Street. If he is willing to help, you should let him. I don’t know what it is with you. Somethin’ funny. But you need to trust somebody. And he’s hot.”

“I don’t care how hot he is. You have no right to butt into my life.”

“Well sorry. When he shows up tomorrow to help you just look a gift horse in the mouth and tell him to go home.”

Clay took a final sip of coffee and rinsed his mug in the sink.

“So how did you get stuck helping her move?” Dan asked.

“Not helping her move. Picking up some furniture. I don’t know. Amber at The Packing Place kind of ambushed me. I walked in when they were talking about the new girl getting furniture and she pretty much railroaded me into helping. The more the girl said no thank you, like she hated the idea of me helping, the more I wanted to.”

“Amber? The same Amber we arrested?”

“Same Amber.”

“So this is one of Amber’s friends?”

That was laughable. “Not hardly. This girl is the exact opposite of Amber’s friends. Skittish like a rabbit.”

“Shy?”

“No.” He paused, searching for the correct word. “More like scared.”

“Of what?”

Clay laughed. “Of cops, for one thing. At least she seems anxious around a badge. Maybe she’ll react differently today when she sees me in street clothes.”

“Maybe it’s that Cestra charm that unnerves her,” Dan teased. “It sure as hell did me in.”

Clay nodded, playing along. “I haven’t tried charming her yet, but I’m sure my magnetism is so overwhelming, I don’t recognize when it’s putting people under my spell. Seriously, though, there is something off about her, like she is not comfortable in her own skin.”

“Maybe she’s just not comfortable going furniture shopping with a strange man. You have to admit,” Dan grinned, “you can be pretty strange.” Clay laughed and nodded.

“You only saw her on her first day, right? She probably just wasn’t comfortable with the new job yet.”

“Could be, but that’s not what I’m sensing. She’s afraid of something.” He shrugged. “We’ll see what this little furniture adventure brings.”

• • •

Cassidy stared out the bus window, watching the rundown two-story homes lining Fortieth Street roll by. Most of them had been converted to apartment buildings with wooden fire escape steps climbing up the brick sides, allowing access to the second floor through a window widened to serve as a door. She doubted the structures complied with building code standards.

Paint peeled from the fiberglass siding on most of the buildings and several gutters sagged in awkward configurations. Even the homes that remained single-family units begged for repairs. Trash peppered most of the front yards. Slowly, the bus rumbled down the potholed street, transporting her from shabby to swank as it rolled into the more affluent neighborhood of Greenbrier and The Packing Place. Dark and dreary morphed into a bright energy.

Lush trees and rolling lawns were dotted with multi-colored flowers exploding from oversized pots, window boxes, and pristine landscape islands. The windows sparkled and reflected the sun, casting the homes in halos of light. Even the children seemed different.

On Fortieth Street, the kids moped on the front porch stoops, propping up their heads with their hands, bored with today and wearing yesterday’s clothes. Here in Greenbrier, the little boys and girls playing in their front yards wore coordinated shorts sets and laughed as they chased balls down the sidewalk.

The parallel between the two neighborhoods and her existence struck her as ironic. She’d had a lush, beautiful life once. Now, she lived in the dark.

She picked at the cuticle on her left thumb as the bus approached her stop. She’d reluctantly agreed to meet Officer Cestra at the store, ashamed to let him see where she lived. If only she’d been more forceful in telling him and Amber no.

She jumped off the bus and had walked less than two blocks when a horn beeped and a green pickup pulled to the curb. Clay Cestra stretched across the front seat and the passenger door swung open.

“Mornin’. Hop in.” He kept his hand extended toward the door to help her step into the GMC Sierra. She ignored the proffered help and climbed into the passenger’s seat.

“You didn’t tell me you rode the bus. I could have picked you up.”

“That’s okay.”

“Where to?”

She recited the address she’d memorized from the want ad: 22442 Hough Street.

Clay did a double-take. “Are you familiar with that area?”

She shook her head no. He shifted into drive and when the electric locks secured the doors she tried not to think of it as being trapped in the front seat with a policeman.

“I’m not sure this is going to be what you are looking for.” He eased the truck back into traffic. “But we’ll take a look.”

After a short time of riding in silence, he asked, “How’s the job coming? Are you getting the hang of it?”

She stared straight ahead, her hands clutched tightly in her lap. “I think so. There is still so much that I don’t know. Amber’s a big help though.”

Clay smiled. “She’s a character, all right. Where did you move from?”

She glanced at him then returned her gaze to the street. They had driven into a dilapidated area where houses badly needed to be cleaned and repaired. Battered junk cars lined both sides of the street, despite the no parking signs on the far side. Trash and debris pimpled several front yards. She swallowed hard. “Is this the right neighborhood?”

Clay drove his truck into an open parking space and nodded. “That’s the address right up there. Are you sure the ad said there was furniture for sale?”

She reached into the pocket of her hoodie and removed the newspaper page, showing him the “for sale” ad she’d circled in red.

He shrugged, then reached under the driver’s seat and retrieved a small gun that he tucked behind his back into the waist of his jeans. She gulped.

“Okay. Let’s go check it out.”

He stepped out of the truck and walked to the front, waiting for her. She stiffened and momentarily froze when he clasped her upper arm and guided her down the street. Ignoring several whistles and catcalls from an open window of a house they passed, they climbed three rickety wooden steps to a slanted front porch and Clay knocked on the door, rattling the glass window panes. The door swung open and a large woman stood in front of them wearing a dirty cotton dress with buttons that strained to keep her huge, sagging breasts concealed. Large hoop earrings swung at her ears. Her hair was wrapped in neat rows of pink plastic curlers.

“Whatchoo doin’ here, Officer Clay? Ain’t nobody called for the poleece.”

“Good morning, Mary. My friend here is answering an ad for some furniture.”

The woman turned round, bloodshot eyes on Cassidy, rolling her gaze over Cassidy’s face, her clothes, and her shoes. She smiled, revealing three gaping holes where teeth used to be, threw her head back, and laughed.

“Well, you just come right on in here, Officer Clay, and see if there is anything you like.” She stepped back, opening the door wider into a dimly lit living room. Two young men in blue jeans and undershirts sat in a haze of cigarette smoke, one sprawled on a couch and one reclined in an easy chair. Newspapers piled on a long, low table in front of the sofa attempted to conceal overflowing ash trays and several dirty dishes. Despite the early hour, the room was dark.

Cassidy put one foot on the doorstep to step inside, but Clay held tight to her arm.

“Ah, that’s okay Mary. I don’t think we’re interested after all.”

Cassidy shot him a surprised look. “What? We haven’t … ”

Clay pulled her backward onto the porch. “Thanks anyway.”

Mary put her hand on her hip and glared at him. As she spoke, her upper lip curled. “Whatsa matter? My stuff ain’t good enough for your hoitey toitey friend?”