Don't Call Me Hero (21 page)

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Authors: Eliza Lentzski

Tags: #Gay & Lesbian, #Literature & Fiction, #Fiction, #Lesbian, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Thrillers & Suspense, #Crime, #Military, #Genre Fiction, #Lgbt, #Lesbian Fiction, #Thrillers

BOOK: Don't Call Me Hero
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We both fell silent, trapped with our own thoughts. “What if the city bought forty police radios and then sold them at a higher price to neighboring agencies?” I suggested, just brainstorming and hoping something would stick. “Someone could make some extra cash that way, right?”

Julia shook her head. “The Feds would have never given that kind of money to Embarrass alone. Remember that a grant application needs to indicate a need or deficiency that the giving body deems sufficient in order to award the monies. What kind of justification does the grant application give for the surplus of radios?”

I felt like slapping my forehead. David and I had been so focused on the receipt he’d found that we’d failed to look at the original grant itself. We’d both jumped onto the next grant application instead of the original curiosity that had alerted him to the discrepancy in the first place.

“I’ll look into that first thing after my shift,” I vowed.

Julia clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Maybe after you get some sleep, Detective. Don’t let this fools’ errand wear you thin.”

“You sound like you’re actually concerned for my well-being,” I deflected.

She rolled her eyes. “I’d just hate to see tax-payer money wasted when you finally burn yourself out and aren’t able to properly do your job.”

“I’m actually paid through a federal grant and not city taxes,” I chuckled, the irony not lost on me.

“Maybe someone’s pocketing half your pay,” she lightly laughed.

“Shit,” I grinned, “if that’s happening, I’d better solve this case right away.”

Her returned smile was mild and complacent. “I probably shouldn’t keep you any longer. I know you’ve got a long night of protecting and serving.”

She was right, but I didn’t want to go. I wanted to stay on her couch and continue to enjoy her company long after the sun had come up.

Julia stood from the couch and left the front den. I left my empty glass behind and reluctantly followed.

She stood near the front door, and I hesitated with her in the foyer.

“Thank you for the drink.”

“Thank you for talking to me about your investigation,” she returned.

“I should have included you a long time ago,” I admitted. “You’ve been more than helpful tonight.”

“Yes, me and my analytical brain,” she softly laughed. “If you need to borrow it again, you know where to find me.”

I walked out onto the front stoop. “It’s a date.”

She smiled curiously at me. “You’re determined to get that date from me, aren’t you, Detective?”

I had a smile of my own. “I’ll wear you down eventually.”

“Well, until that day happens …” Her kiss was soft and just barely there, but I felt it all over like her lips were directly connected to my nerve endings.

I stumbled down the last step of the front concrete stoop.

Julia covered her mouth and a laugh with her hand.

 

+ + +

 

“When I took this job I had no idea it would be so glamorous.” I tossed a donut hole in the air, but it knocked off my front teeth and bounced to the floor. I let this one escape rather than retrieve it. Who knew the last time the floor had had a decent scrub and wax.

“Police work’s not all shootouts and car chases, you know.” David popped another sugar-covered donut hole into his mouth. We were fueling our off-the-books overtime with donuts and hot coffee.  David had us tracking down every major capital project the city had funded within the past five years and comparing it to our master list of federal and state-awarded monies.

“All you need is a mustache, and you’d be the perfect cliché,” I joked.

“Yeah, and all you need is the mullet and a girlfriend and you’d be the perfect lady cop.”

I cleared my throat and looked down at the desk.

“Holy shit,” David exclaimed. “Are you gay, Miller?”

“I don’t do labels,” I grumbled at my hands.

“Shit, Cassidy. I was just playing. I didn’t know.”

I pushed out a deep breath and tugged at my ponytail. “It’s fine, Addams.”

“Hey, don’t get me wrong. I’m totally cool with the gay thing. I’ve got a gay aunt.”

I forced a smile to my face. “It’s really fine, David. I’ve heard a lot worse.”

“Yeah, but I’m your partner. You shouldn’t have to deal with that kinda shit from me, too.”

“Let’s not make a big deal about it, okay?” I pushed. “You’re sorry you’re a dick. I get it.”

His smile was sheepish. “Yeah.” I was sure the combination of those dimples and long feathered eyelashes got him off with far worse. It was a good thing he was a decent guy. The authority that came from being a cop could go to a person’s head.

“So back to this shit show,” I said, eager to change the subject away from my sexuality. “Find anything new?” I asked.

“No. I’ve been staring at these numbers and this fucking fancy language for too long. Everything’s starting to blur together.”

I was experiencing the same thing. It was making my brain hurt.

“We need a fresh set of eyes to look over these budgets and grants.”

“I don’t know about that,” David hesitated.

“I know you want this to be the Cass and David Show, but we’re just beat cops.” I shuffled the mess of papers on the desk. “I don’t know about you, but I’m better at shooting my gun than I am hunting down a paper trail. These white-collar crimes are dicks.”

David smiled. “Yeah, why couldn’t they rob a bank like a normal criminal?”

“Or even run a drug cartel,” I added with a laugh.

“Shit. I just had a thought.”

“Uh oh. Don’t hurt yourself.” I idly licked sugar crumbs from my finger tips.

“What if it’s Julia Desjardin?”

“What if what is Julia Desjardin?”

“What if she’s our perp?”

“One, we don’t even have proof of a crime having been committed,” I asserted. “Two, that’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” David posed. “Think about it. She’s wicked smart. She knows all about contracts and criminal law.”

“But embezzling? Money fraud? What does she know about that?”

“I bet she knows just enough that she could get away with something like this,” he conjectured.

“Sure she’s smart, but what about motive?” I pointed out. “Her family’s already rich, and she probably makes bank as the city prosecutor. It’s not like she needs the money.”

“Her family’s rich, but not
that
rich. We’re talking about hundreds of thousands of dollars here, Cass. Millions maybe.”

I found myself growing angrier and angrier at his accusation. There was no way Julia had stolen money from the city. She’d been the one helping me on this case, after all.

Fuck.

“You okay?” David asked. “I can practically see the gears grinding in your head.”

I stood up and nearly knocked my chair over. I caught the back of the seat as it tipped and brought it back to all four legs.

“I’m fine. I’ve gotta head out though.”

David’s brow furrowed. “Is this because of what I said about Julia?”

I wanted to lie and try to convince him that everything was fine and that this had nothing to do with her, but it wasn’t in my nature to bottle things up or avoid confrontation.

“It’s complicated.” Understatement of the year. “I’m going to ask her.”

“And you think she’s, what, just gonna confess when you bat those baby blues at her or what?”

“My eyes are brown.”

“Shit.” He grinned. “Even if you liked dudes, I still wouldn’t have a chance, huh?”

“You’re really a piece of work, Addams. Try not to eat all the donuts while I’m gone. I wouldn’t want them to affect your girlish figure.”

 

+ + +

 

If Julia was involved with this, there had to be a good reason for it. I stood on her front stoop and knocked on the door.

I heard multiple locks being unfastened and the door swung open. “Detective Miller. This is a surprise.”

“Are you embezzling money from the city?” I asked her directly. There was no reason to tiptoe around the question.

The pleasant smile fell from her face. Her shoulders straightened and she folded her arms across her chest. “So I guess you’re not here to ask me out on a date.”

“Fucking Christ, Julia. I just want the truth.”

“No. I’m not stealing money from the city. And I’m going to do my best not to get angry with you for even asking me such a hurtful thing. I know you must be under a lot of stress.”

I didn’t know if it was her words or the way she was looking at me, but I felt something break. I felt it in my stomach first, a kind of nauseous rumble, but then it spread and intensified in feeling.

“Will you come in?” She took a step backwards.

I nodded, unable to form words because of the lump in my throat.

I kicked off my shoes without being told to and followed her back to the kitchen.

“Sit.” Her words were gentle, but forceful.

I didn’t have the energy to put up a fight.

I sat myself on a stool at the kitchen island and propped my head in my hands with my elbows resting on the countertop.

“Am I looking for something that doesn’t exist?” I worried out loud. “At first I got involved in this investigation as a favor to David, but the deeper I get into it, the more I need it. It’s like if I can find something wrong and fix it, it’ll justify me giving up on my life downstate and running away to this little town.”

I bit my lower lip. As long as I kept busy, I wouldn’t have time to think about what if’s and should have done’s. I’d read about this in one of my PTSD self-help books. I tended to see everything in my civilian life as a “mission”—my work, my relationships. And I would drive myself crazy until the mission was complete.

Julia opened her refrigerator and took out deli meats, sliced cheese, and mayonnaise. “Is that what you really did? You ran away?”

“I don’t know what else to call it. I thought a change of pace and environment would be good for me. But you can’t run from yourself, no matter how fast your legs move.”

She continued to silently busy herself in the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Making you a sandwich.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

She opened a bag of chips and poured some on the plate beside the sandwich. “I wanted to though.”

I stood from my perch and ambled to the other side of the kitchen. Julia was packing things up and returning them to their places, but I stopped her movements.

“Thank you. For the sandwich and for listening.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

“I just want to make a difference, you know? Working night shift isn’t as fulfilling as I’d like, and it feels like every time I try to go above and beyond, I get shut down.”

“Like this case with the police radios.”

I nodded. “And I wanted to get some mobile fingerprint scanners for the department, but your dad said they were too expensive.”

I hadn’t wanted to bring up the mobile fingerprint reader again with the Chief, and all of my emails and messages to the Mayor had gone unanswered. I could have asked Julia to talk to her father on my behalf, but I didn’t want to ruffle any more feathers, so I’d let the matter drop. I took heed of Chief Hart’s reaction to me going over his head to mind the chain of command, keep your head down, do your assigned job, and nothing more.

Julia walked me outside where my bike was waiting.

“Where are you off to now?” she asked.

“I don’t know. David’s probably expecting me back at the station, but I need to get out of there for a while. Do you wanna go for a ride?”

She curled her lip. “On that death trap? Not a chance. Why would you even own one of those around here? It’s not a very practical vehicle.”

“But it’s an adrenaline rush.”

“Between the motorcycle and your clogged arteries, I’d say you didn’t plan on living very long.”

I tried to smile. It sucked. Normal people could casually throw around those kinds of words and phrases, but not me—not after I’d seen friends flown home in unmarked pine boxes. I tried to let her words roll off me. This was how civilians interacted. I knew she hadn’t meant to offend me or make me upset. This was just how regular people talked to each other.

“Oh,” I said, remembering, “I looked at that grant application for the police radios like you suggested.”

“And what did your sleuthing reveal?”

“I figured out why we ordered so many radios. It was a collaborative grant application that included adjoining counties.”

“So that explains the purchase of forty radios,” she noted. “Case closed.”

“Maybe.” I wasn’t convinced. “Is there any way we be sure those other departments actually got their radios?”

“You could always call them and ask,” she suggested.

I wrinkled my nose at the idea. Calling up the other police, fire, and ambulance crews across the northern part of the state sounded like a lot of work. “Any other options?”

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