Bachelor Cop

The two women sat silently until Helena’s breathing slowed. Finally, she pushed away from the table. “I’ll go look in on the children before I go to bed.” She squared her shoulders. “Maybe I will go back on Thursday.”

CHAPTER TWO

“IF MY MOTHER ASKS ME one more time when I am getting married and giving her grandchildren, I will join a monastery,” Randy said. He tossed his jacket onto the wooden coat rack rescued from the old precinct, loosened his tie, sat down and turned on his computer.

Around him in the part of the large bull pen Cold Cases shared with Homicide, other detectives clicked computer keys and talked on their telephones. A few sat with their feet propped on their desks, reading the paper. Early mornings were usually reserved for catching up on paperwork and meetings, while possible witnesses still slept or were commuting to work.

“Never happen,” Liz Slaughter said from the next desk. “Monks are celibate.”

“New Girl dump you?” Jack Samuels, the third detective in the Cold Cases squad, asked. He stared at his computer screen and began to fill in an arrest form with two fingers. Samuels had long since stopped bothering to learn the names of Randy’s girlfriends. To him they were all New Girl, until they vanished to be replaced by the next New Girl.

“Paige and I agreed to see other people,” Randy answered.

“She dumped you,” Samuels said.

“She wanted to get married, have babies, a giant mortgage, the whole schmeer,” Randy admitted. “Paige said it was time to move our relationship to the next level.” He shuddered. “Her exact words.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Right up there with ‘honey, we need to talk.’ She said I was a dead end and she needed to move on to somebody who wasn’t afraid of responsibility.” He grimaced. “Baggage.”

“I like baggage,” Liz said, and patted her belly. She was four months pregnant with her first baby and beginning to show.

“By the time I leave Cold Cases every night, I’m up to here with baggage.” Randy passed the palm of his hand over the top of his head. “Give me beautiful women who don’t want a thing from me but great sex. Deliver me from needy.”

“You, Randolph Quentin Railsback, are shallow and selfish,” Liz said. “One of these days you’ll get yours.”

He raised an eyebrow and leered. “I want mine and everybody else’s, too.”

“Damn!” Samuels held the delete key down on his computer. “Who’d name a kid Linoleius?” His beat-up desk chair screeched in protest as he swung around. “What really happened with New Girl?”

“Paige kept bugging me to talk about my job. She said if I really loved her, I’d share.” He grimaced. “How do you share what we do?” He pointed to the sign beside the door to Lieutenant Gavigan’s office, which said Cold Cases Squad. “Hey, honey, I’m home. I spent the afternoon digging through the North Memphis landfill for the leg that fits the foot a bum found in a Dumpster two days ago.”

“At least with Cold Cases it’s generally a skeletal leg and not a greasy one.” Jack glanced over at Liz. “Sorry.”

Liz waved her hand. “I don’t barf the way I did my first three months.” She leaned across her desk toward Randy’s. “So she won’t be going to Aruba with you?”

“Lots of beautiful unattached ladies in Aruba. No need to take my own. Anyway, Paige has left for Hawaii and won’t be back for a while.”

Liz propped her chin on her hand and stared out the grimy windows at the dank February morning. “If I weren’t married and pregnant, I’d beg to go with you. When do you leave?”

“I’d like to get out of here today, but teaching the self-defense class is paying for the trip, so I’m stuck for a couple more months.”

“Any candidates for New Girl in the class?” Jack asked.

Randy shook his head. “One gorgeous trophy wife.”

“Off-limits, I hope,” Liz said.

“No way would I be crazy enough to get involved with a married woman. The others range from farmers to a perky newlywed.”

“All married?” Samuels asked.

“One divorcée and one widow, both in their forties. Then there’s the whack job. She doesn’t wear a wedding ring. Wouldn’t be surprised if she’s never been married.” He leaned back, propped his loafers on his desk and shook his head. “I’m not getting near that one.”

“Not pretty enough?”

“I get the feeling she’s trying to make herself ugly. She’s succeeded.”

“Why would a woman do that?” Jack asked.

“Fear. Low self-esteem. Depression,” Liz said. “How ugly?”

“Last night I would have said unattractive. Looking back, I’d have to say not, if she made an effort. Big brown eyes, eyebrows like Sela Ward, wide mouth even without lipstick. She’s got this straggly, dark brown hair she keeps in a tight ponytail.” He ran his hand along his skull just over his right ear.

“How’s her figure?” Jack asked.

“Hard to tell under sweats, but she provided a lovely cushion when I fell on her.”

“Excuse me?” Liz asked.

He told them what had happened.

“She took you down?” Liz laughed. “I’d like to have seen that.”

“She caught me off guard. I’ll have ’em all taking me down before we finish the course, but she won’t come back. She hated me.”

“Oh, sweetie, what woman could hate you?” Liz asked.

He spread his hands and flashed her a smile of wide-eyed innocence. “What’s not to love, right?”

“Maybe she hated your aftershave. What are you wearing these days, Essence of Shark?”

“I tossed that stuff. I’ve switched to Love God. Want a sniff?” He leaned toward her.

She rolled her chair out of his reach. “Back, Fang. Go detect something.”

WHEN RANDY WALKED INTO the exercise room at the gym for the Thursday evening class, he spotted them at once. Of course, he should have guessed. Streak didn’t swing his way. He was surprised that he felt let down.

The pocket Venus who trailed her into the room stood maybe five-two, with light brown curls, eyes such a bright blue that he could tell the color from across the room, boobs he’d bet came straight from Mother Nature, narrow waist, lush hips. On top of everything else, she was laughing. She had a happy, infectious laugh. Polar opposite to Streak.

What a waste.

Venus spotted him and crossed the room with her small hand extended. No wedding ring. Long nails with pink polish. She wore jeans and some kind of silky shirt that slid over her body like cream. “Hi, I’m Marcie Halpern, Helena’s housemate. I wanted to meet you.”

“You joining the class?”

She shook her head. “’Fraid not. Somebody has to look after the kids.”