The Interview (17 page)

“Take a picture. It'll last longer.”

The words broke my trance. I exhaled in relief. I turned to express
my thanks and found myself face to face with a pair of mirrored
sunglasses.

“Seriously, you again,” I said.

“Listen,” said one of Placentia's finest. “I think
we might have gotten off on the wrong foot?”

“Really, you think so? I don‘t know. Seems like we have a
perfectly normal cop/mailman relationship.”

“I might have misjudged you.”

“Probably not.”

It was third time I had encountered Officer Bradford, but it was the
first time she wasn’t doing weird shit. I took the opportunity
to check her out.

Officer Bradford was a stone cold fox. 5'8”, tan skin, smoking
hot body in patrol blues, utility belt that rested on hips that were
absolutely rockin', brown hair up in a bun, large mouth, pug nose
with a smattering of freckles, and those sunglasses. Think Jessica
Mendoza. This woman could hurt me in so many ways.

She apologized again because I had lapsed into my “Oh my God
she's so freaking hot” silence.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“What?”

“Are those prescription sunglasses?”

“Yes.”

I almost melted. She wore glasses!

“First name?” Oh please let it be Bobbie or Billie or-

“Officer.”

So close! I nodded my head and said, “What can I do for you,
Officer Bradford?”

“Were you at 1586 Orleans Ave. today?”

“Five days a week. Why do you ask?”

“We received a call of a disturbance involving a mailman at
that address.”

“Letter carrier.”

“Excuse me?”

“I'm a letter carrier. Mailman seems kind of redundant, and a
bit sexist if I might add.”

“You fit the description of the
mailman
the
caller gave.”

“I'm there every day. What was it exactly that I was described
as doing?” I can play dumb like a champ.

“There was a physical confrontation between the owner of the
house and you.”

“Did you talk to the owner?”

“Yes. He said the caller was mistaken.”

“Well, there you go. Anything else?”

“You dropping the bullshit would be nice.”

“Can I smoke?”

“Your funeral.”

“My thoughts exactly.” I strolled over to my truck which
was parked right in front of 129 Main Street. I unlocked my door,
grabbed my cigarettes, then went to the back of the truck and sat
down on the bumper. I lit my cigarette. Officer Bradford remained
standing, legs spread apart, hands resting on her gun belt.

“What kind of gun is that?” I couldn't tell if it was
the same gun that Mr. Bat held to my head but it seemed like a good
ice breaker.

“A big one.”

“I was hoping for a little more.”

“Feeling is mutual. You want to enlighten me as to what
happened this afternoon?”

“I delivered the mail. That was about it.”

“Does it usually take three letter carriers to deliver the mail
on that street?”

“No.”

“So why were there three trucks parked in front of the address
in question?”

“We were taking a break.”

Bradford smiled, glanced at the wall of vegetation in front of 129,
then looked back at me. “Have I charged you with anything?”

“I hope not.”

“Have I placed you under arrest?”

“You forgot to cuff me if you did.” I held out my
wrists, but she ignored them.

“Have I read you your rights?”

“That's a no.” I blew smoke. I am so cool under
pressure.

“I'm not recording this conversation.”

“OK. Neither am I.”

“We are out of view of my car, so my dash camera is not picking
any of this up.”

I made a show of looking around. “Affirmative.”

“So, in reality, Mr. Jenks.”

“Call me Kelly.”

“This is just a conversation between two civil servants.
Nothing more.”

“I never thought about cops and postal workers both being civil
servants. Not really fair to you cops. Besides, I‘m kind of
waiting for you to do something weird, like lick my nose or
something.”

“OK, let me give you a hypothetical.”

“Sounds fun. Do you know what time it is?”

She checked her watch. “4:30.”

I did some mental calculations and said, “You got twenty
minutes for your hypothetical, then I have to get back to the office.
Would you care to carry this conversation over to, say, dinner?
Drinks?”

“Twenty minutes will be plenty.”

“OK, go with the hypothetical.”

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

Can you feel the sexual tension between us? I could. It was amazing.

“Over the last six months, we've received three reports of
domestic disputes at the address you
just
delivered
mail to this afternoon.”

“This is hypothetical?”

“Not yet. This is real. I'll blink when I start with the
hypothetical.”

“I won't be able to see you blink with those sunglasses on.”

“That's the point. These three reports were phoned in by a Mrs.
Redlands. An officer was dispatched on those three occasions only to
be told by the parties involved that everything was fine. They just
got caught up in the heat of the argument. No harm. No foul.

“Two weeks ago, a Kristin Turin was admitted to the
Placentia/Linda Emergency Room with a dislocated elbow and fractured
wrist.”

“I know her. She lives at that address we were talking about.”

I was still playing dumb, but I silently wished I had snapped Ted's
arm right out of his shoulder socket.

“Exactly. Now comes the hypothetical part. Today, at 3:30 PM, a
Mr. Redlands called in to report that a mailman had his neighbor
pinned to the ground at 1586 Orleans Ave. Mr. Redlands then went on
to report that there were three mail trucks parked in front of this
residence for about ten minutes, then they disbursed. What do you
think so far?”

“Curious.”

“Yeah, well now comes the cool part. I get to thinking about
all of this, so I ask Mr. Turin where his wife is. He says she's out
with friends. Doesn't know when she'll be back. So I ask him if she
was home during the time frame discussed and he says yes.”

“Curiouser.”

“So I ran over to the post office. Turns out, a carrier named
Casey had to leave on a family emergency this afternoon. It also
turns out, that another carrier, Fred was his name I think, ended up
finishing Casey's route for her. They told me you would be around
this area, and here I am.”

“Here you are. Fascinating.”

“So this is what I think happened hypothetically. I think you
saw something that pushed your buttons the wrong way. I think you
feared for the safety of Mrs. Turin so you restrained Mr. Turin and
called Casey and had her take Mrs. Turin somewhere she would be safe.
Then you called Fred to have him get the extra vehicle back to the
lot. How am I doing?”

“I have no idea. It's your hypothetical.”

“Exactly, Mr. Jenks. It's not real. It never happened. I can't
find Casey or Mrs. Turin. I found Fred, but he said that Casey had a
family emergency and he helped her out by finishing up her route.”

Maybe Fred did get it. He can surprise me sometimes. Course, Casey
has a history of getting away with murder so she probably called him
and they got their stories straight. She would have called me,
probably, but I don't have a cell phone.

“So this is what I'm going to write in my report. I'm going to
write that Mr. Turin denied an altercation ever happened. Then I'm
going to write that you did the same. And that's it.”

“You're going to make a fine detective someday, Officer
Bradford.”

“Mr. Jenks, I'm going to be a great detective someday very
soon.”

“You've got me convinced.”

“All I need from you is your assurance that Mrs. Turin is OK.”

“I'll answer you if you take off your glasses.”

She did. Deep, dark, liquid brown. Very nice.

“Do men find you intimidating? I've heard that beautiful women
have trouble getting dates because men are intimidated by them. Throw
in that really big gun of yours and wow. Kind of like Amelia Sachs.”

“Who?”

She didn't read Jeffery Deaver. Too bad, he's good. I tried a
different medium. “Did you see
The
Bone
Collector
? Denzel and Angelina?”

“No.”

“Forget it. So are men intimidated by you, Officer Bradford?”

“All of them except for you, Mr. Jenks.” My muscles
liquefied. Man!

“I have an idea.”

“Share?”

“Of course. It's a great idea.”

“Naturally.”

“You give me your card and I'll call you if I hear anything.”

“You came up with that all by yourself?”

“Yep. Pretty good, right?”

She handed me a card. With no first name. Dammit!

“Call me, Mr. Jenks.”

“I hear a threat coming.”

“No threat. I think you'll do what's right.”

“Why? I wouldn't think that. I would think the exact opposite.
I never do what's right.”

“You did the right thing for Mrs. Turin. Hypothetically
speaking of course.”

She put her glasses back on and strode away to her car. I peeked
around the side and watched her walk. She caught me. I didn't mind.
She had a great walk.

“Mr. Jenks.”

“Kelly, please.”

“Remember, there are two ways we can move forward. One way is
good for both of us. The other way is good for me and bad for you.
Say hi to Tristan.”

TRISTAN SEEMED TO BE THE source of my problems. Mr. Bat showed up in
my life immediately after I was at Tristan's. Now Officer Smoking Hot
Bradford comes out of a galaxy far, far away and wants to make nice.
I mulled these things over as I drove back to the post office. It
made no sense. Absolutely zero.

My attention span got the better of me and I gave up. Things would
make sense when they did. I didn't have enough brainpower to figure
out the connection.

I was back in the office and about to slide my card when Graciella
appeared by my elbow.

“Busy day, Kelly?”

“Yes. I'm bushed.”

“Did the cops find you?”

“Cop, singular. 'Cops' would indicate more than one.” I
did the imaginary quote thing with my fingers for emphasis.

“So they found you.”

“She found me. Twice. Once again, the use of 'they' is vague.
You really need to work on your public speaking skills. Those
stand-ups aren't going to give themselves. Between you and me, Cindy
gives great stand-ups.” Stand-ups are when the supervisor or
postmaster gathers all of us carriers around in a circle and gives a
talk. We stand during the talk, so you get the idea. They're
generally boring and uninformative. I usually check out after the
first minute.

“Let me be clear then. If it is discovered that you were
conducting yourself in a manner unbecoming a member of the United
States Postal Service, there will be severe repercussions.”

“What are you going to do, Graciella? Suspend me for pretend
again? How’s Jimmy? It’s odd, but no one has asked me
or told me how he is.”

“What did Fred and Casey have to do with all of this?”

I rolled my eyes, waved, and said, “Bye. Have a great weekend.
I know I will.”

“You're mine tomorrow, Kelly. Get ready for a really big
swing.”

“Check the schedule. I'm off till Tuesday.” I walked out
the door and strolled home confident in my position in life.

I SHOWERED, CHANGED INTO SHORTS and a t-shirt just to shake things
up, then went and found Annette. She was sitting out back. A Sue
Grafton paperback that she had pilfered from my stash was open in
front of her.

“What's up, Gorgeous?”

She looked up from the book. I knew something was wrong when she
didn't smile.

“What's wrong? Are the kids OK?”

“They are fine, Kelly.” She looked absolutely ruined.
She's eighty, but she doesn't look it. More importantly, she doesn't
act it. I sat down next to her and held her hand. She squeezed my
fingers and I knew I was the cause of her distress. I held her gaze
and waited for her to speak.

“Joe Redlands stopped by a little bit ago.”

I bit the inside of my lip.

“He was concerned that my boarder was overstepping his
boundaries. You're my boarder, Kelly.” I nodded. “Was he
right?”

I scrunched my nose and eyes together, but remained silent. I guess I
knew who I had offended by putting down that piece of shit, Ted. Joe
and I were going to have a little chat sometime in the very near
future.

“Kelly. You're family. You know that. I know you don't feel
things emotionally. But what Joe described was the opposite. He made
it sound very emotional, as if you were out of control. Beating up a
man for no reason. What he described couldn't be you. Could it?”

I lit a cigarette. “How long have we known each other,
Annette?”

“Ten years, Kelly.”

“You know me better than anyone. My parents, maybe, but you see
me every day.”

“Frankie, too.”

“No.” I shook my head. “Not Frankie. My dad, my
mom, and you. You three know who I am. You know what I do. My
simulations of emotional response. Frankie is in love with a kid in
his twenties, not a man on the border of forty. She thinks she knows,
but she has no idea. I'm a vacation from her reality. That's it.”

“You don't give her enough credit, Kelly. She loves you very
much.”

“Whichever. Now is not the time for an analysis of Frankie and
I. The only thing that matters is you and I. I don't know what Joe
told you, but there was nothing out of control with what happened at
the Turin's. He broke his wife's arm, Annette. I stumbled into it. I
didn't go there looking for a fight. He pushed. I pushed back.”

That was becoming a theme in my life. That and gorgeous women. I
liked the second part a lot. First part, not so much.