Sweet Poison (9 page)

T
uesday was Corey’s day off.

“What are you planning to do today?” asked Mary, setting a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of him.

He grabbed her hand before she could walk back to the stove, pulled her down, and kissed her cheek. “Anybody ever tell you you’re the best?”

“Go on with you,” she said, though she flushed with pleasure.

“I’m not sure,” he said, digging into his food. “I was thinking that maybe I’d open a bank account. I can’t keep asking you to cash my checks.”

“I don’t mind.” Mary sat down at the table with her first cup of morning coffee. “You planning to go see your father?”

Corey looked over at her, gave a shrug. “Why should I?”

“I wish you two could put your old grudges aside. He’s not a bad man.”

Like hell he’s not, thought Corey. He’s a human skid mark.

“We all have to forgive each other.”

“I know we do,” he said. He chewed for a few seconds, then continued, “But we’re not all as virtuous as you are.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, honey. You’re a fine man. You may prefer a good story to the truth sometimes, like your mom. And you’re a little impulsive on occasion, but you’ve got a good heart.”

“You’re the only one who sees it.”

“No, God sees it. Don’t ever forget that.”

He smiled at her. “You still praying for me?”

“Every day.”

“Will you pray for something else?”

“What?”

“Me and Serena.”

Mary seemed surprised. “Have you talked to her?”

“Last night.”

“You still have feelings for her?”

“Stronger than ever.”

She mulled that one over. “She’s a sweet girl. I always liked her. But I hate to see you getting your hopes up if it doesn’t work out. It might be easier to start over with someone new.”

“You mean someone who doesn’t know I’m a felon. Yeah, I thought about it. But I figure with any woman I’d eventually have to tell her. Who knows if anybody—other than you—will ever believe it was all one big horrible mistake? Sometimes I think this label is gonna follow me to my grave.”

“Oh, honey, it may take some time—and finding the right woman—but it will pass.”

He wiped his mouth with a napkin, then got up to put his dirty dishes in the dishwasher. “I want Serena to be the right woman.”

She gave him an uncertain smile. “Time will tell. Just be patient with her.”

Flexing his arm muscles, he said, “I’m not patient, I’m too studly. I crush enemies with my bare hands.” He gave her another kiss.

“While you’re out crushing enemies, would you stop at the grocery store and pick up some milk, a carton of eggs, a sack of apples, and some of that cereal you like? Can you remember that, or should I make a list?”

He pointed at his head. “Memory like an android.”

“I’ll take it as a no.” She got up, rinsed her coffee cup in the sink, then set it in the dishwasher alongside Corey’s. “If I don’t get going, I’ll be late for my first job.”

“You have an absolutely fabulous day,” he said, clipping on his watch.

“For all your trials, you’re sure in a good mood.”

“Lots to do,” he said, tucking his chambray shirt into his jeans. “After the last nine years, today is full of promise.”

Corey spent the next hour wheedling the information he was looking for out of one of Serena’s old girlfriends. He needed to know where Serena lived. She wasn’t in the directory. He hoped like hell she’d moved out of her mother’s place, and as luck would have it, she had.

The girlfriend, Liza Reynolds, stood nervously next to the clothes she was sorting at the Bubble Time Laundromat on Sixty-sixth in Richfield. She was another boring Minnesota blond, and so skinny she looked like a skeleton with a hairdo. She also looked like she’d aged about thirty years in the time he’d been gone. He figured it was drugs. He knew she wouldn’t talk to him if he called, so he’d followed her from her apartment. She acted like he was made of plutonium, which both amused and annoyed him.

“I didn’t rape anyone,” he said, leaning against one of the washing machines, twisting the turquoise and silver ring on his right hand.

“Okay.”

“I’m telling the truth.”

“Sure, Corey. I hear you. I just think it would be better for everyone if you left Serena alone.”

She seemed so jumpy that finally, out of frustration, he grabbed her by the shoulders. “Jesus. Calm down.”

“Hey,” she said, pushing his arms away, backing up. “Don’t touch me.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Just leave me alone, okay? I don’t want no trouble. I just want to
do my wash and go home. You got no right to harass me. I gave you the information you wanted.”

He cocked his head.
“How
exactly am I harassing you?”

“Just go, okay. And don’t tell Serena I told you where she lived.”

He held up his hands, nodded politely, and backed his way out the door.

Corey arrived at the American Eagle Bank & Trust just before noon. He parked his cycle in the lot and entered the building through the side doors. The interior was one long room with the tellers on the right and the rest of the bank personnel sitting at desks to his left. Along the far wall were a bunch of glass-enclosed offices for the bigwigs. He quickly located Charity. She was sitting alone at a desk in the rear of the room, a puzzled look on her face, concentrating on the computer screen in front of her.

Her back was to him, so when he came up behind her he could study the screen for a few seconds without her being aware that he was there. He saw what the problem was right off.

“Press the Escape button,” he said, leaning over her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

She turned, looked up at him. “Corey. Where’d you come from?”

“Thought I’d let you open a checking account for me today. But first—” He pressed a couple of keys, then a couple more. He held one down, smiled at her while he waited for a different screen to pop up, did a few more quick keystrokes, then when the main screen appeared, he said, “Type in your password again and you’re off and running.”

“Thanks,” she said, looking amazed. “It wouldn’t let me do a thing.”

“Now you can take all my vitals,” he said as he sat down in one of the chairs in front of her desk and crossed his legs. “Unless—”

“Unless what?”

She was wearing a pretty blue dress. She looked fabulous, professional and sexy. And those freckles—they drove him crazy.

“You have to eat lunch, right?”

“Well … yes.”

“I bought us some sandwiches at a deli. Thought we could sit on one of those benches in the park across the street. What do you say? One is turkey and the other is roast beef.”

“I love roast beef,” she said.

“Oh, sorry. That one’s for me.” He looked serious, then grinned.

She smiled back a little tentatively.

“Let me run outside and get the sack.”

Once they’d found the perfect bench with the most sun, they sat down. Corey handed the turkey sandwich to her. “You thought I was kidding?” He gave her a stern look, then grinned again and exchanged the roast beef for the turkey.

“You’re a tease, you know that?”

“Me? No way.” He’d had a chance to watch her on the way over. She had an effortless sort of posture and a great ass. He was smitten.

“I’ve only got half an hour,” she said.

“Then we better make the best of it.”

As she glanced up at the trees, watching two squirrels chase each other around, a hint of sadness crept into her eyes.

Corey figured she was sad about something in her life, or lonely—or both.

“So, you’re a real supporter of Ray Lawless?” he asked.

She chewed for a second. “Well, yeah. I don’t much like defense lawyers. But I think he’s a good man.”

“Me, too.”

“I think he’s made some mistakes, but I told myself this year that I needed to turn over a new leaf. If I didn’t get involved in the process, I had no right to bitch.”

As they talked, Corey noticed a guy in a three-piece suit saunter into the park. He kept looking their way until Charity saw him.

“Oh, darn.” She turned her back to him, fiddled with her sunglasses.

“Who’s he?”

“Somebody I don’t want to talk to.”

The guy walked closer, stood by a tree and chewed on a toothpick.

“Go away,” called Charity.

“Not until you listen to me,” he called back.

“Who is he?” whispered Corey.

“We used to … date. He promised he’d leave me alone. He frightens me.”

“Why? Did he hurt you?”

“Not physically. He’s just … I don’t want him anywhere near me.”

Corey shot to his feet, walked across the grass to where the man was standing, and stuck out his hand. “Corey Hodge.”

The guy studied him openly. Corey had the sense that he was trying to memorize his name.

“That’s Corey with a C.”

“Who the hell are you?”

He was tall, cocky, and completely tricked out—gold jewelry, diamond ring, flashy silk tie, expensive haircut.

“I’m Charity’s new boyfriend. Who the hell are you?”

“She hasn’t told you about me?”

“Apparently you’re history, man. Not even worth a mention. But I like to know who I’m talking to. What’s your name?”

“Gabriel Keen.”

“Well, Gabriel, I think the lady over there wants you to move on.”

“She doesn’t own the park.”

“No, man, she don’t. But as it happens, I do.”

“You think you’re funny?”

“Yeah, I think I’m a riot. I’m also a black belt in karate. You wanna have a little … conversation with me, I’m happy to oblige.”

Keen looked him up and down. “Bullshit.”

“You calling me a liar?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Go ahead, then. Hit me.” He stuck out his chin. “Right here.” He pointed at his goatee.

Keen crunched his right hand into a fist.

“Course, you hit me and I’ll have to arrest you.”

“You’ll … what?”

“It’s not your day, pal. I’m a cop. Plainclothes. Better run along.”

“You are so full of crap.”

“ ‘Fraid not. Bye.” He gave a little wave, then turned his back on the guy and returned to the bench. It was a calculated risk, turning away from a man who seemed that tightly wound. But Corey would have enjoyed getting his fancy suit dirty.

After resuming his place next to Charity, he saw that Keen hadn’t moved. “Better go peacefully, man. Otherwise, I might have to arrest you for vagrancy.”

“Arrest,” whispered Charity.

“I’m sorry, Charity,” shouted Keen. “But … there’s no love in my life without you. No hope. I can’t just walk away.”

Charity lowered her head.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I’ll call.” He glanced both ways over his shoulders, then dropped his toothpick into the grass and stalked off.

“What an asshole,” said Corey, picking up his sandwich and taking a bite.

“He’s a psycho.” She pulled away and looked him full in the face. “You’re a cop? For real?”

“I’ve been working in the criminal justice system for the last nine years.”

“Wow. I mean, I’ve never—” Another hesitation.

“Dated?”

“We aren’t actually dating.”

“No, but we could be. I wish we were. Unless you’ve got something against cops.”

A smile curled around the corners of her lips. “No, nothing at all.”

He chewed for a minute, watched Keen get into a shiny black Saab. “You wanna talk about the dipshit?”

She shook her head.

“Hey, are you planning to head over to the campaign office tonight?”

“No, but I am tomorrow. Luke called, said all the computers are up and running. Thought I’d put in a couple of hours.”

“Great. Me too. Maybe when we’re done, you might like to go for a ride on my cycle.”

“You have a motorcycle?” She brushed some crumbs off her dress. Gave herself a minute to think what to say. “Well, um, maybe. Do you have helmets?”

“I got one for you.”

“You don’t use one?”

“Nah.” He laughed. “I’m made of steel—planning to live forever.”

C
hristopher sat quietly on one of the club chairs in the living room, hands crossed in his lap, eyes closed, listening intently to Jussi Björling and Licia Albanese sing a duet from the opera
Turandot
. He was so caught up in the music that he hadn’t heard Luke come in. It was a perfect opportunity for Luke to study his partner in an unguarded moment. He felt a little guilty, but then he figured all men were voyeurs at heart.

Luke was home early today, hoping to convince Christopher to go out to dinner. The answer was always no, but Luke refused to give up.

In many ways, Christopher was a creature of the early twentieth century, not the early twenty-first. He tended to formality, not only in his dress but also in his habits. He wasn’t the least bit stuffy or standoffish, but he had a sincere appreciation for graciousness, politeness, modesty, and good manners, none of which were particularly important in today’s world.

As Luke thought about it, he realized that tonight was very much like the night five years ago when he’d first met the Reverend Christopher Cornish. Falling in love with a Methodist minister had
never been high on Luke’s lists of things to do with his life. He was entirely nonreligious himself, sometimes vocally so.