Bachelor Cop

“You all ready to get started again?” Randy asked.

By the time he dismissed the class an hour later, the women were riding a tide of adrenaline, laughing and high-fiving one another. Except for Streak. She drove away without speaking to anyone.

Too bad Bunny, the little blonde, was married. He watched the others drive off, then found the gym manager in her office.

“You ever go home, Jessica?” he asked.

The manager answered, “I’m like a vampire. I sleep during the day and babysit this place at night. How’d your class go?”

“Pretty well. Interesting group. I’m willing to bet there’s a lot they’re not telling. Women don’t take self-defense for no good reason. What’s Helena’s story?”

“She’s been a member of the gym for three or four months, but she usually walks on the treadmill and doesn’t speak to anyone.”

“Lawyer? Doctor?”

“College professor. Why?”

“She came unglued. Lot of rage. I’d like to understand why.”

“She doesn’t seem like a nutcase. Should I refund her money?”

“Nah. I can handle her.”

Jessica rolled her eyes. “Right.”

“And I’d like to find out why she wanted to kill me tonight.”

“I’M NOT GOING BACK to that class Thursday night,” Helena Norcross said. “The instructor is a chauvinistic redneck.”

“Tell me what you really think,” said Marcie Halpern. “Don’t leave your dirty glass in the sink after you finish your drink. Put it in the dishwasher.”

“Yes, Mother,” Helena said. She poured herself an inch of Irish Cream and sat at the small kitchen table to sip it.

“Thank heaven one of us is a neat freak,” Marcie said. “Otherwise this house would be so knee-deep in books you wouldn’t be able to find your children unless they wore bells.”

“You are the best tenant in the universe, as you never tire of telling me. Where are said children?”

“Bathed, tucked in, read to, tomorrow’s clothes laid out, lunch boxes filled in the refrigerator…”

Helena patted her shoulder. “I’ll run up and kiss them good-night. God help me if you ever find a husband. I’ll never have another tenant like you. All this and rent, too.”

“Precious little rent. Thanks so much for agreeing to swap nannying for the cash. If that no-goodnik ex of yours would pay his child support…”

“If Mickey doesn’t pay, he can’t come around and mess up our lives again.”

“So, tell me about the redneck chauvinist,” Marcie said.

“He made me look like a fool. Told us we didn’t have enough upper-body strength to fight off a man, that we had glass jaws and would never get in a shot before the bad guys turned the tables on us.”

“I thought he was supposed to help you repel the bad guys.” Marcie leaned back so that her chair teetered and only her toes touched the floor. “How’d he make a fool of you?”

Helena told her.

Marcie laughed so hard she had to grab the table to keep from tipping over. “It’s the fool part you hated, isn’t it? You spend too much time with students who don’t dare talk back. God knows what they say behind your back.”

“‘Nasty old Dr. Norcross thinks Shakespeare’s plays are worth reading. Not.’ In another generation the entire human race will only text-message. Pronounce ‘roflol,’ why don’t you?” She finished her Irish Cream and set the sticky glass on the table.

Marcie pointed to it.

Helena got up to rinse the glass in the sink and set it in the dishwasher.

“You should have seen him leering at the blonde trophy wife. He’ll be jumping her bones inside of two weeks. Would you believe, he actually called me Streak.”

Marcie spat her mouthful of diet soda straight across the table and laughed until she choked. Helena grabbed a paper towel and mopped up the spill.

“Oh, dear. Sorry.”

“Marcie…”

“How many thirty-five-year-old women have a white streak down the side of their head? You’re lucky he didn’t call you Skunk.”

“That’s it. I’m going to bed.”

“Wait. Helena. Please, sit down. Aside from your assessment of his character, does he know his stuff?”

“I suppose so. He took me down easily.” She sank into the chair across from Marcie. “He obviously works out. He’s neat. He smells very clean and was freshly shaved. His jeans had a knife-edge crease in them and he has plenty of muscles….”

“Noticed his muscles, did you?”

“I couldn’t help but notice his muscles when he was on top of me.”

“Say what?”

“Never mind.”

“I think you should go back. Helena, you need this. It’s the only way you’ll ever get over your fears.”

Without warning, Helena hunched her shoulders. She clamped her hand over her mouth and began to shake.

Marcie came around the table, sank to the floor and grasped her hands. “It’s all right. I’m here. Alarm’s on. Nobody can get in. You’re safe. I’m safe. The kids are safe. You drove to class alone and drove home alone after dark. Six months ago you couldn’t have done that. You’re more in control every day.”

“I’ll never have total control while he’s alive!” She beat her fists on the kitchen table.

“It’s been four months since your last panic attack, and you haven’t had one in public for over a year. That’s real progress.”

Helena closed her eyes and flung her head back. “I want him dead.”

“I know.”