Seven Suspects by Renee James

Seven Suspects by Renee James

Author:Renee James
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Oceanview Publishing
Published: 2017-10-19T04:00:00+00:00


Officer Phil lives in a nice apartment building in a nice section of town. Wicker Park is cool in a laid-back kind of way, not flashy rich like Lincoln Park, or swinging hip like one of the night club districts. His girlfriend’s place is in a modern building near my salon, in the River North area—a tonier, higher-rent district worthy of a beautiful young woman who makes truckloads of money and is every bit as smart as she is sexy. That’s probably where he is, getting laid or going through the rituals that will get him laid. But I’m not brave enough to face that reality, and besides, my business is with him, not Barrister Barbie.

I ring his bell, hoping maybe his lady is off arguing a case before the Supreme Court or fixing parking tickets, hoping I’ll catch him alone for ten minutes so we can sort this thing out.

“Yes?” His voice is thin and mechanical in the intercom system, but I can hear the doubt. He’s not expecting anyone, not even Barrister Barbie.

“We need to talk,” I answer.

The silence that follows seems to last an eternity. Phil would like me to go away and not come back. I will, but I want some answers first.

The security door buzzes. I open it and go to Phil’s door. It’s ajar. He’s not waiting to give me a hug or even a handshake. I walk in. I find Phil in the kitchen, seated at a dinette, eating a frozen dinner. He nods as I enter the room, but says nothing. Without invitation, I sit across from him.

“What?” he says. He’s trying to be curt and businesslike, as though nothing unusual happened today.

“You tell me,” I answer. I sound pretty businesslike myself.

“Why are you here?” He’s playing dumb, trying to make me feel stupid.

“Because I was trying to find out who’s stalking me today, and when I looked up, there was the love of my life staring at me from the shadows. And when I tried to talk to him, he ran away like a thief in the night. I want to know what’s going on.” I don’t whine and I don’t plead. I say it like a tough, no-nonsense bitch who’s had it up to here with this stalking nonsense.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sullen, but not convincing.

“That was a pathetic attempt at a lie,” I respond. “You were never good at it, which was one of the many things I loved about you.” I say “loved” in the past tense, but the truth is, I love him still and that’s one of the reasons.

“I know you weren’t there to rob or rape me, so just tell me and I’ll go away and I won’t bother you again.” I say the words without tears, but I’m on the brink. When I look at his face, even now, him trying to be distant, eating some kind of melted crap, I see the goodness in him, and my body feels his warmth and tenderness with a reality that’s shocking.



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