Stalker. Faye Kellerman
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the words sounded like Have you decided to go away? Please? She said, “Yes, thank you. I’ll have the sand dabs. Does that … never mind.”
“If you have a question, go ahead and ask it. I may sneer, but I don’t bite.”
Cindy smiled. “How are they prepared?”
“Lightly coated and pan-fried,” the waiter answered stoically. “They come with boiled potatoes. If you want French fries, I can get you French fries.”
“French fries would be great.” She handed him the menu. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He looked at Oliver. “For you, sir?”
Oliver handed him the menu. “Prawns and your best bottle of Chardonnay.”
“Caesar for two to start?”
“Sure.”
Without ceremony, the waiter left.
Cindy whispered, “Is he going to spit in our food?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I was sufficiently polite this time?”
“Better.” He smiled. “Why are you typing so many reports?”
“Doing favors.” Cindy looked at the ceiling. “Trying to extricate myself from Sergeant Tropper’s shit list by completing his reports—his least favorite chore.”
“Tropper?” Oliver thought a moment. “He must have been after my time. What’d you do to get on his shit list?”
“You mean besides being a college-educated woman? Well, I did have the nerve to handle a tense situation competently. It ruffled his feathers.”
Oliver raised his eyebrows. “Department likes team players, Cindy.”
“So I should just step aside and let …”
She stopped talking, seeing the red-jacketed waiter approach with a bottle of wine and two Caesar salads. He set the plates in front of them, then uncorked and poured the wine, giving Oliver a taste. Scott swirled it, sniffed it, sampled it.
“It’s good.”
Dutifully, the waiter poured two full glasses, then placed the bottle in an ice bucket. “Ground pepper for the salads?”
“Sure,” Cindy answered.
The waiter picked up the pepper mill and plunked it down in front of Cindy. “Help yourself.” Then he left.
Cindy gave her salad a healthy dose of pepper. “That man doesn’t like me. Maybe it’s my red hair.”
“Maybe it’s the attitude.”
“Oh, please!” Cindy speared a chunk of lettuce into her mouth and chewed slowly. “Ordinarily, I would get upset by that. But the food’s too good. Tension is bad for digestion.”
“Indeed.” Oliver raised his wineglass.
They clinked stemware. Cindy said, “To what? To being a good team player?”
“How about to keeping you safe?”
Cindy took a sip. “Safe from the felons or safe from my fellow workers? Aren’t you supposed to be giving me some kind of lowdown?”
“Watch your ass.”
“Hard to walk when you do that, Scott.”
“I’m serious, Cindy. You need to look over your shoulder now and then. You’re way too cocky. I don’t know if it’s the inexperience, the fact that you’re educated, the position of your dad, or just your sparkling personality. But you have to be aware of yourself. More important, you’ve gotta know how your ’tude affects your colleagues. Being out there on the street, your life could depend on any one of them.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“See, that’s a big fallacy. And a dangerous one.” He lowered his voice and moved in closer. “You can’t take care of yourself. Out there, no one can. Everyone has to look out for one another. Policing is a team sport, sweetheart. You want solo activity, become a spy.”
“Well, that’s an idea. Don’t you just love the dark sunglasses?”
“You’re quick with the repartee. I’ll give you that.” He sat back. “Unfortunately, your retorts won’t do dick against a .357. Or even a .22, for that matter.”
“You know, Oliver, even if I wanted the help from my colleagues, they wouldn’t give it to me. So I figure why bother waiting around for it!” She put down her salad fork. “All these crazy hazing rituals they put us women through. They deal with me like I’m one big fraternity prank. Take yesterday. I’m trying to contain this crazy Latina … think any of the guys there offered me a finger of help?” She shook her head. “Man, I’d love to have a woman partner, so this whole competition thing wouldn’t be an issue.”
“It’s an issue with your partner?”
She took a healthy swallow of her Chardonnay. “No, Beaudry’s not a bad guy.”
“So what are you bitching about?”
“I’m not bitching! I’m just saying … forget it.” Cindy retreated into her salad, stabbing at a crouton that kept sliding under the tines. “I’m only talking about work because you asked about it. Generally, I keep my mouth shut and do the job. If no one trusts me, what can I do?”
“You’re only a rookie, Cin. You couldn’t have pissed off everyone that fast.”
“It’s been eleven months. That’s plenty of time.” She smiled, but it was a tense one. “So you tell me what’s going on.”
“First tell me why you think the guys don’t trust you.”
“A multitude of reasons.” She sipped wine. “Starting with the fact that they can’t get into my pants.”
“Okay. I can buy that. Guys’ll try, no big deal. Once they see you’re a stand-up gal, they’ll get over it.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“What about the women?”
“I haven’t been to any of the policewomen meetings yet. Too busy. Maybe I should go.”
“Maybe you should.”
She sighed. “Even the women I know … they have this look in their eyes. I think they view me with suspicion because I’m college educated.”
“You’re telling me you have no friends? You looked pretty social last night. Tipsy, but social. Did something happen that I don’t know about?”
“No, last night was okay. Hayley’s nice, actually. Well, I think she’s nice.” She regarded Scott. “What happened between you two?”
Oliver didn’t answer.
Cindy smiled brightly. “I guess we’re not going there.”
“Good guess.”
She poured them both another glass of wine. “I’m still waiting for the lowdown on me.”
Oliver said, “We’re talking general consensus, not any one opinion.”
“Got it.”
“You’re smart—”
“I could have told you that—”
“Shut up, Decker, and listen. You’re smart, quick-thinking, and, more important, quick on your feet. You’re good with the masses out there. Calm, assured—not in your face, but you don’t back off. You’ve got good physical energy and good physical strength, especially for a broad—”
“Must be the Wheat—”