(Dream Man 03) Law Man (12 page)

“Got more to tell you.”

I looked up at him and scrunched my nose not wanting to hear more but I still repeated, “Okay.”

He watched my nose scrunch and didn’t speak, not for a long time, long after I’d unscrunched my nose. In fact, he seemed to lose focus as his eyes settled on my mouth. Then his eyes moved to mine and he regained focus.

“That guy that Billy said was visiting?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I replied.

“Got a feeling his name is Grigori Lescheva. He’s Russian mob and when I say that I mean he’s the top guy in the Russian mob.”

This didn’t sound good. On all the television shows the Russian mob guys were the worst.

“That doesn’t sound good either,” I pointed out when Mitch said no more.

“Nothing about this shit is good. Lescheva’s just the worst part of it. Sources say Lescheva’s settin’ up a power play to claim new territory. Bill was passin’ him info about competitors. At first he was doing this because Lescheva was paying him. In the end he was doing this because Bill owed Lescheva. You do not want to deal with Lescheva at all. But if you gotta deal with him, you want him to owe you for whatever you got, not the other way around. Your cousin knows every scumbag in town. He’s sold to them. He’s bought from them. He’s partied with them. He owes them money. They’ve fucked him over or he’s fucked them over. He’s been busy since he hit the city and therefore he’s a good informant. But there’s only so much he has, only so much he can give. Especially now that no one likes him, no one trusts him and most everyone wants something from him and some of them, him not breathin’ is what they want. His usefulness to Lescheva was diminishing which means Lescheva would be calling on the debt. Bill is an assclown and a nuisance and not worth the effort for most unless the opportunity presented itself. That is, he was until he started feedin’ Lescheva information. But Lescheva doesn’t like debts and he’d call it, one way or the other. If Bill couldn’t pay, Lescheva’d get creative in finding a way to get it.”

I stared at Mitch, wrapped my arms around my ribs and focused on not crying and/or freaking out.

“That
really
doesn’t sound good,” I whispered so quietly
I
could barely hear me.

“The good news for you is Bill’s being held without bail. He’s considered a flight risk.”

“Okay,” I whispered though his good news was relative.

“That means the kids will remain with you if CPS approves you fostering them after they visit which they’ll do.”

I nodded.

“The other good news is that with the evidence they have and the fact that this is strike three, it’s unlikely he’ll be breathing free for awhile.”

Damn. He knew this was Bill’s strike three. Of course he would. It was the computer age. He probably discovered that in, like, two seconds.

Bill’s blood flowed through me. No wonder he had no more warm smiles for me.

I nodded again even as I felt the knife twist.

“That means, while he’s inside, you can work to make that permanent.”

Yet again, I nodded.

“I’ll text you names and numbers of lawyers who can help you out with that. You might as well start now.”

“Thanks,” I whispered, wondering where I’d find the money to pay a lawyer.

He stared at me. Then he turned his head and looked at the wall that separated the break room from the showroom. Then he looked back at me.

“They doin’ okay?” he asked.

“Um… yes,” I answered. “Billie asks after him. Billy seems fine with everything.”

It was his turn to nod.

Okay, it was nice of him to come all the way out to Pierson’s to tell me this but I had to shut this down and move on. Again.

So I went about doing that.

“Um… thanks for coming all the way out here to, uh… keep me in the loop.”

I watched his jaw clench. Then he looked to the side and muttered, “Clueless.”

Oh boy. Here we go.

“Mitch –” I started to shut it down and his eyes sliced back to me.

“You workin’ this weekend?”

My head did a little shake at his confusing question. “Pardon?”

“This weekend, you workin’?” he repeated with slight amendments.

“Um… yes.”

“Both days?”

“Yes, Mitch, but –”

“Who’s lookin’ out for them while you work?”

I straightened my shoulders and admitted, “I haven’t got that far.”

He glared at me and muttered, “Right.”

I sucked in a breath through my nostrils and started, “Mitch –”

He cut me off. “Twelve to nine?”

My head tipped to the side. “Pardon?”

“Your shifts this weekend. Twelve to nine?”

“Yes, but –”

“I’ll be at your place at eleven,” he declared and I blinked.

“Um… what?” I whispered.

“Mara, I’m speakin’ English.”

“But, I –”

Mitch finished for me. “Need right now to get your head out of your ass.”

Oh hell. Not this again.

My arms uncrossed and my hands went to my hips.

“Mitch –”

“And, I’ll add, clue in,” Mitch went on.

“Seriously, that is not nice and you have no right to speak to me that way,” I snapped.

“You got a living, breathing, responsible human being standin’ right in front of you offerin’ to do you a favor. Not a small one, like changin’ a washer, but a big one, like makin’ sure those kids are safe, they eat somethin’ and they get to bed on time. Now any person who does not have their head up their ass and isn’t entirely fuckin’ clueless would take up that offer ‘cause kids need to eat, be safe and get to bed on time. You, for whatever twisted, fucked up reason, are gearin’ up to throw that offer in my face. So, even though I know I’m wastin’ my breath, I’ll still advise you to get your head outta your fuckin’ ass, clue in and accept my offer.”

I glared at him and before my temper caught up to my brain, I bit out, “Fine.”

His eyebrows went up. “Fine?”

“Yes, fine,” I clipped. “Although I’m not all fired up to let a big, fat jerk look after them, you’re right. I haven’t been able to sort out anyone to look after them while I’m working. I need someone to look after them while I’m working and although you’re a big, fat jerk to me, you aren’t to them and Billie likes you. So, fine. Thanks,” I expressed my gratitude acidly. “If you could watch them this weekend that would be a huge help.”

After I finished he stared at me. I glared at him.

Then he said, “Great. I’ll be there at eleven.”

“Perfect.” My tone was still injected with acid.

He didn’t move. I didn’t either.

Then for some reason the blankness went out of his face and his eyes started to warm.

“Mara –”

I shook my head and started to the door, saying, “Oh no you don’t. You can’t be mean to me and then be nice because being mean makes you feel shit because you’re usually a nice guy.” I stopped and put my hand on the handle of the door and my eyes hit his. “It’s okay to be mean to me, Mitch. Even people that are nice all the time are mean to people like me. I’m used to it. Go with it. Just don’t ever be mean to them.” I jerked my head toward the showroom, so caught in executing my dramatic tirade that I didn’t notice his expression had changed completely. Thus I didn’t notice how it had changed. “They don’t deserve it and the reason I took all this on is to make certain they don’t ever get to the place that they do. Now, are we done here?”

He was again studying me closely.

Then he said quietly, “I don’t think we are.”

“Well, I disagree,” I retorted, turned the handle and without looking back, I marched right out.

Chapter Eight

Spring Deluxe

I was no more than two steps into the showroom when Mr. Pierson materialized out of thin air, arm extended to some point behind me.

I stopped and turned as he passed me and I watched him capture Mitch’s hand and pump it zealously.

“Hello there!” he cried with manic sociability. “I’m Bob Pierson, owner of Pierson’s Mattress and Bed.” He let Mitch go while I blinked because Mr. Pierson wasn’t a stranger to the showroom floor but he’d never acted like
this.
I was so deep in my surprise, I wasn’t able to do anything about Mr. Pierson curling an arm tight at my waist and hauling me into his side before he continued, “And I’ve been this delightful little lady’s very lucky boss for the last seven years!” He turned his head to look at me then back to Mitch before he finished grandly, “My Mara could sell a mattress to a bat she’s so good at it.” He gave me an affectionate squeeze that was so affectionate, it rocked my whole body. “Aren’t you, dear?”

“Um…” I mumbled.

“Mitch Lawson,” Mitch saved me by introducing himself in return.

Mr. Pierson nodded. “I hear you’re Mara’s neighbor.”

“Yeah,” Mitch replied, his eyes no longer expressionless but now filled with amusement.

“Good neighbor to have, the po-lice detective who worked with the FBI to sweep the streets of Denver clean,” Mr. Pierson declared, my head turned slowly to him and he kept talking. “Read all about that triple bust in the papers, son, saw your picture too. Bet your parents are real proud. I know, I was them, I would be.”

What was this? Triple bust? FBI? Mitch in the papers?

I looked back at Mitch. I did this making a mental note that after whatever happened to Bill, happened to Bill and I got the kids beds, clothes that fit and weren’t stained or worn out; shoes of the same caliber; kept them fed; got them decent afterschool childcare; and gave them a life that would lead them directly out of the One to Three Zone and straight to the Seven to Ten Zone they deserved to live in that I would buy some tools, learn about plumbing and cars and also start reading the paper.

“You worked with the FBI?” I heard coming from my side and I looked there to see Billy, keeping his distance behind a mattress, eyeing Mitch with his face semi-hard, semi-curious.

“Hey Billy,” Mitch replied.

Billy’s eyes darted to me then back to Mitch then he said, “Hey.” Pause then, “You worked with the FBI?”

“Yeah, Bud,” Mitch answered.

Billy pressed his lips together, for some reason having difficulty making up his mind about what to think of this.

At this point Billie careened into our conversation and she did this by careening directly into Mitch’s hips at the side, wrapping her arms around them, looking up at Mr. Pierson and announcing, “He bought me butterflies and flowers!” Then she pointed at the barrette I put in her hair that morning which had a heart on it, not a butterfly or flower. Then she pointed at her chest before she held out her hand with three fingers up. “And
three
pretty outfits!” Not done she concluded on a shout, “And a fluffy pink teddy bear!”

My eyes slid to Mr. Pierson to see, for some unhinged reason, he looked about ready to burst with joy at this news.

“Well isn’t that just fantastic!” Roberta took this moment to join us; she pushed right in and also pumped Mitch’s hand exuberantly, saying, “I’m Roberta. I work with Mara. And let me just say, you
totally
missed out with her pizza.”

Oh God, no. Not the pizza.

Roberta, please shut up!

Before I could open my mouth to say something that might make my friend shut up, she kept going. “Trust me,
nothing
is worth missing Mara’s barbeque chicken pizza. Nuh-
thing.
Next time, make certain you don’t get called away.”

Mitch’s eyes cut to me.

Oh crap.

“Uh…” I mumbled.

“I love Auntie Mara’s pizza!” Billie screeched.

Oh
crap!

“I should probably get back to work,” I put in, unfortunately sounding just as desperate to escape this new and excruciating personal life crisis as I was.

“Oh no, no, take your time, dear,” Mr. Pierson said magnanimously. “Or, actually,” he looked at Mitch, “what kind of mattress do you have?”

Damn.

“What kinds are there?” Mitch unwisely asked and Mr. Pierson’s face melted into a smile.

“Son, you walked into the den of a master. If you aren’t able to extol the virtues of your mattress, Mara will guide you to one that you are. So, while you’re here, you
need
to let Mara show you our Spring Deluxe.”

No! I was not going to show Mitch mattresses!

I stepped out of Mr. Pierson’s arm and slightly to the side, saying quickly, “Mitch is really busy. He has things to do. You know, the streets of Denver never stay clean for long.” I looked at Mitch and prompted, “Right?”

“I have time to look at the Spring Deluxe,” Mitch drawled.

My eyes narrowed.

“Excellent!” Roberta exclaimed. “It’s my dinner break, Mara, so I’ll just take the kids with me to Kentucky Fried Chicken.” She looked down at Billie. “You want chicken?”

“Chicken!” Billie yelled which meant yes.

“Billy?” Roberta asked.

“Sounds good,” Billy replied, slinking toward the front door, trying not to look like he was watching Mitch while watching Mitch.

Roberta grabbed Billie’s hand and said to Mitch, “Great meeting you.”

“You too,” Mitch replied.

“‘Bye Mitch!” Billie cried, moving away with Roberta and waving at Mitch so hard her hand was a blur.

“‘Bye Billie,” Mitch called to her waving, retreating form then his eyes went to Billy. “Later, Bud.”

“Later,” Billy mumbled and hurried after Roberta and his sister.

“I’ll just leave you in Mara’s capable hands,” Mr. Pierson said, his hand suddenly at my back giving me a none-too-gentle shove which made me take two steps in Mitch’s direction. Then he started moving away, saying, “Remember, two hour window on delivery freeing you up for the rest of your day.”

I watched his departing back at the same time I took a calming breath. Then I tipped my head up to look at Mitch.

“I think the coast is clear for you to go now,” I told him.

“Before you show me the Spring Deluxe?” he asked, the warmth back in his eyes and it hit me that he was teasing me.

That knife twisted even as it sunk in deeper.

“This isn’t funny,” I whispered.

His eyes roamed my face as the warmth left his. It grew thoughtful then he took a step toward me.

I stepped back.

He stopped and looked at my feet. Then he looked back at me and took another step toward me.

I stepped back.

He kept coming and I had to stop when the backs of my legs hit a mattress. That was when he got in close.

Damn.

I tipped my head way back to look at him. “Mitch –”

“Actually, that whole thing was funny,” he replied to my earlier comment.

“No, actually, it wasn’t,” I retorted. “Now, you don’t want to be around me and this is your chance to escape so,” I tipped my head to the front door, “go.”

It was like I didn’t even speak. “Except your friend saying I got called away from pizza. That wasn’t funny.” His head dipped closer. “You lie to your friends, Mara?”

I stared into his eyes and realized he wasn’t amused or teasing anymore. I didn’t know what he was but I knew he wasn’t amused or teasing. Not even close.

“I don’t often share my personal life,” I told him. “Now –”

“That’s because you don’t have one,” he told me.

I clamped my mouth shut and fought the tears that suddenly stung my nose because him saying that and
knowing it
really hurt.

Then I tried, “Listen, it’s only Roberta and me on the floor so I really need to get back to work.”

His head lifted. His eyes scanned the cavernous space that was empty except for him and me, a bunch of furniture and mattresses. Then they came back to me. “Now you’re lying to me.”

Damn. Why was I such a dork?

“Mitch –”

“And not very well either.”

“Um…”

“What are you afraid of, Mara?”

I bit my lip and then answered, “Uh…”

“What scares you so fuckin’ much?” he asked.

Totally a police detective and therefore totally figuring me out. I hated that.

I looked at his shoulder.

“And what did you mean, people like you?” he pushed.

Oh boy.

I looked back into his eyes. “Um…”

“What kind of people are you?”

I took a quick step to the side and then another step back and blurted, “Would you like to see the Spring Deluxe?”

He turned to face me again. “No, I’d like to know why you think I don’t want to be around you.”

I ignored him and stated, “It’s an exceptional mattress.”

He closed the distance between us. When I started to move back, his arm shot out and curled around my waist, halting my progress even before it began. His other arm came around me, caging me in.

In Mitch’s arms again. This time at work. Great.

“Have I ever given you the impression I don’t want to be around you?” he kept at me.

Yes. He had. There was the time he told me I had my head up my ass and all the other times he said it. And the times he told me I was clueless. And not ten minutes ago when he was in the break room with me which was also a time when he shared he thought I was clueless and had my head up my ass.

I didn’t remind him of this. Instead I said, “It’s our highest end model but it’s worth the price. Trust me. You try it, you’ll want to buy it and there’s a possibility that Mr. Pierson will let me give you my employee discount.”

“You’re not gonna answer any of my questions, are you?”

“Lumbar support is very important and the Spring Deluxe provides excellent support while affording ultimate comfort,” I stated instead of answering. And I knew this to be true because I’d experienced it but also because I was quoting verbatim from their brochure.

He stared down at me and I pushed carefully against his arms hoping he’d get the hint, drop his arms and let me step back.

He didn’t.

Instead he said quietly, “Billy’s lookin’ at me like I told him there’s no Santa Claus.”

I closed my eyes.

“You did that,” Mitch told me and I opened my eyes.

“Billy knows there’s no Santa Claus. Bill already told him so he wouldn’t have to buy him presents at Christmas,” I shared more information that cemented the fact that my cousin Bill was indeed an assclown. Not that Bill needed it. His assclownedness was carved in marble.

Mitch shook his head and muttered, “Priceless.”

I pressed my lips together.

Mitch leaned in closer. “I broke through with him. He doesn’t trust anyone except you and I broke through. Then you broke that.
You
did that, Mara.”

“I’m sure you’ll break through again this weekend, Mitch,” I said softly.

“I’m not considerin’ Billy doesn’t give much of a shit who treats him right. What he does give a shit about is who treats his sister right and who treats
you
right and he thinks I walked away on Monday and left you to fend for yourself. And he might only be nine years old but he still knows exactly the load you took on takin’ on him and his sister. So now he thinks I’m a dick. And you did that.”

He was right. I did do that. Crap.

“I’ll explain things to him,” I assured.

“Right, bet you’ll be good at that since Billy’s more clued into what’s goin’ on than you are.”

My body stiffened and I whispered, “Can we not go there again?”

Mitch grew silent and he did this to study me again. Then he returned to his earlier theme and asked softly, “What kind of people are you, Mara?”

Mitch was using a soft voice. Mitch’s voice sounded nice soft. If Mitch talked to me soft for long, the jig would be up as in, I’d throw my arms around him and declare my undying love for him. Therefore I decided it was time to give him an answer.

“Not your kind, Mitch.”

His brows drew together and he asked, “What’s my kind?”

“Not my kind.”

“There it is,” he whispered.

“There what is?” I whispered back.

“I was wrong. When you’re in your head, it isn’t a decent place to be. It’s a twisted, fucked up place to be but you’re so shit-scared to leave it, it’s the only place you’re willin’ to be.”

I put gentle pressure on my hands at his biceps before saying, “I know you’re smart and I know you’re a detective but I also know you don’t know everything. I especially know that you think you’ve figured me out but you don’t know everything about me.”