The Profiler Page 12

  Though I’m being pulled forward by Muddy’s leash, I stall a bit for the detective to catch up. “What are you doing here?”

  “Just had breakfast with Cain downtown, but figured I’d come by and see how your head’s doing. Where ya going?”

  “Shopping. And I’m fine,” I say, then turn back the way I was headed.

  “This early? Mind if I join you?”

  “Why?” I say, not facing Severo as I keep a steady pace. “You want to play some more games? If you recall, Detective, we don’t have time for that sort of thing. We’re on a case.”

  “Oh, would you just cut the sarcasm and wait a minute!”

  As he says this, I stop in my tracks, pivot with force and look at him. But the early morning sun glares against his shades and I have a hard time making eye contact as he speaks. “Listen, about last night…you know I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just…with what happened to you yesterday we both need to be at the top of our game, ya know?”

  “Yeah, you said so last night.”

  “If you must know…” His voice cracks and he peers around as one of my neighbors walks by. He nods to the stranger, then continues in almost a whisper. “If you must know, I like you. I do. And I’m thinking you might even like me a little, when you’re not pissed at me for one thing or another. But…”

  “You didn’t want to take advantage of a wounded woman?”

  “Exactly,” he says, standing next to me now and I hear the sincerity in his voice. It’s not like I had a concussion for crying out loud. Though I suppose I can forgive him under the circumstances. I won’t deny there’s an attraction between us that’s developed rather quickly.

  Maybe this is something we should explore later, after we finish this case and I get settled into the city a bit more. I consider how hard that would be while looking at him, as he asks, “So, mind if I join you?”

  “I guess not,” I say, in my best indifferent tone. I don’t want him to think I can be won over so easily. “But you better have comfortable shoes, Severo. I have a lot to accomplish this morning.”

  “That I do,” he states, as he picks up the pace and trails alongside Muddy. “So what’s on the agenda?”

  “The market opens at ten o’clock, so I figure a few stops along the way, and then I can gather up some food so I have something to offer my grandmother.”

  “You’re going to see her for lunch, right?”

  I rewrap my scarf around my neck, since the wind keeps pulling it loose from its knot, and I take in the scent of fresh ground coffee as we round the corner, nearing a small café.

  “Yeah, at the church. I don’t know if she’s planning on staying with Simon for the night or heading straight over, so I need to be prepared.”

  We enter the café, busy with neighbors enjoying a beverage this fine, sunny Sunday morning, and I order a café latte to go.

  “Same for me,” Severo says, and when he pulls his wallet from his pocket, I protest.

  “This one’s on me,” I insist, letting my attitude settle, remembering how gracious the detective was yesterday despite our personal incident. “You got dinner last night, so this is the least I can do.”

  Lattes in hand, we head south toward some independent shops and I take in the familiar scenery. I spent many Sunday mornings wandering this neighborhood after sharing breakfast with my father, and seeing the old buildings and fruit stands brings back sweet memories.

  “You had breakfast with Cain?” I ask, stepping up to a vendor selling flowers. The gerbera daisies are looking nice for this time of year, so I select a few bright orange and a few cheery red, then one yellow for spunk, and pay the man for the bouquet. “Any news to share?”

  “He met with some students, but none of them really knew of anyone strange hanging around the campus. Not like anyone really pays attention to strangers in this city, ya know.” He takes Muddy’s leash from me so I can balance my latte and the wrapped flowers. “After breakfast he was heading back to the Plaza to check on forensics to see what the lab came up with, if anything. Said he’d give us a call if something surfaced.”

  “I would hope so,” I say, then motion for Severo to enter the next shop. “I want to go in here.”

  He slows for a moment to attach Muddy’s leash to a sidewalk bicycle rack, then looks up to the store’s marquis with bewilderment. “Records? Your grandmother need some music to make her feel more at home?”

  “No, but I do,” I say as I step through the narrow aisles, working my way to the jazz section. “My father and I used to come here all the time. Look, they still have those old-fashioned listening booths. He’d bring me here when I was a kid and introduce me to all the classics, one Sunday at a time.”

  “Very cool.” Severo nods, pulling an old vinyl album of Nina Simone off the rack. “You really like this stuff, huh?”

  “Yup. Know it better than whatever it is you listen to, anyways,” I say, recalling the obscure CD collection I spied on his desk a few days ago.

  His laughter catches a wandering shopper off guard, and I smile at the sound of his voice. When in good spirits, the detective can be rather charming and pleasant. Getting past our kiss and the aftermath is easier than I expected, with the way his warm side creeps back in, making me forget there was ever an uncomfortable moment between us.

  “I like to fight for the underdog,” he says, but my dumbfounded look prompts him to explain. “You didn’t recognize any of the names, right? There’s no reason you should. It’s not like they’re busting off the charts. Not yet, anyway.”

  “How do you find these bands?” I’m curious to know more about Severo and what brings life to him outside of working hours. He seems to be comfortable with who he is and what he’s made of, and I’d like to know the intricacies of what makes him tick. “Or is there a process?”

  “Oh, there is indeed.” His voice is enthusiastic now, as though I’ve hit a joyous nerve that was waiting for someone to tickle with curiosity. “It’s a very technical process, actually. I go into a record store, not unlike this one, and I do one of two things.”

  My fingers slide along the E section, skimming for a Duke Ellington oldie. “I’m listening.”

  “Either I ask the nerdiest kid in the joint who the latest and coolest unknown band is and take his word for it, or—” he closes his eyes and runs his fingers through a stack of records, blindly pulling out a group I don’t recognize “—I do this.”

  “You’re kidding me?”

  “Nope. Random choices sometimes lead to a real nice surprise,” he says, defending his system. “Sometimes you don’t know what you’re looking for until you find it.”

  “Fair enough.” I grab the latest mystery album from his grasp. “How about I test out your theory, then? If I like it, I owe you a beer. If I hate it, you owe me a beer.”

  As we walk to the cashier Severo looks at me with a grin. “Then I win either way.”

  “How do you figure?” I pay for my albums and hold the door for the detective as we head back to the sidewalk to meet Muddy, faithfully awaiting our return.

  “Because either way, I get to enjoy the pleasure of your company, regardless of who’s buying.”

  Now it’s my turn to grin. “Point taken.”

  Balancing the collection of daisies and the leash on Muddy, Severo walks elbow to elbow with me as I study the back of the unknown album. He’s trying to read over my shoulder, and when we come to the intersection he pauses, unsure which way to go.

  “We should head to the market,” I say, so we cross over to the east side of the street, heading toward Ninth Avenue. “Once I get some edible items for Gran and me, I’ll have to get back to the apartment and see if Mrs. Schaeffer will keep an eye on Muddy while I go to my uncle’s.”

  “I could always hang out with him, ya know. We’re bonding, can’t you tell?”

  I watch as Muddy rubs up against Severo’s leg, the old dog bumping into him periodically as we strut down the sidewalk. “I can see that, but
I’m afraid you already have plans.”

  “I do?”

  “Of course,” I say, matter-of-factly. “I’m returning a favor. You’re having lunch with my family.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Schaeffer!” We head down the stairwell from the second floor and I say to Severo, “She’s so sweet.”

  “I noticed. For the record, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a dog smile, but Muddy sure seemed happy to see her.”

  He pushes through the door, holding it open for me as I pass through with hands full of flowers and the wine I decided last minute to pick up for my uncle. It’s nice that Simon’s having us all over for lunch, and I want to show my appreciation.

  As Severo disarms his Jeep and I fumble to make sure the door closes behind me, a delivery guy from a reputable courier company catches the handle. “Georgia Schaeffer?” he asks, peering above his delivery log, and I nod my head toward the stairs.

  “Second floor, to the right.”

  “Thanks,” he says, and I watch the bald guy heave it up the stairs, his hands spread out, carrying a rather large package.

  “Wonder what that is?” I murmur to Severo, my curiosity aroused. “I never get presents delivered to me.”

  “Is that so?” he asks, one eyebrow raised and lips devilishly curled into a grin. “Well, never say never.”

  Despite our mended attitudes this morning, there is little conversation as we drive from Chelsea to Gramercy Park. This is the first time I’ll be in the same room with my uncle and grandmother since my father’s funeral, and it’s bittersweet. I’m so happy to be reunited with the both of them, but my father’s absence is still hard to take.

  I don’t know that you can put a time limit on healing, and I don’t want to lose the memories of my father, but for the sake of my family I need to put on a brave face. It’s the only way we’ll get past this pain and find the place where memories turn to sweetness, instead of hurt.

  When my cell phone sounds, I answer quickly, eager to keep my mind from falling into the past. “David.”

  “Hey ya, kiddo. How’s your head today?”

  I smile at the personal interest Cain has taken in my well-being. “I’m fine, but thanks for asking. Hey, Cain,” I begin, as the thought occurs to me. “If you don’t have plans for lunch, you’re welcome to come by my uncle’s church. My grandmother’s arriving and we’re having a little get-together. It’d be nice if you could join us.”

  “Nah, I’m heading out to see my kids for the afternoon. Maybe hit the zoo or some weirdo museum that’ll impress them. I appreciate the offer, though. But listen, you have yourself a good time and be sure to rest up.”

  “I will,” I say, and then add a goodbye. Looking toward Severo now, I ask, “You know Cain has two kids?”

  “That I do. Met them last year, in fact, at some Fourth of July barbecue he hosted in Brooklyn Heights.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, at some community park near his bachelor pad. It’s too bad he doesn’t get to see them all that often, as I know he loves those kids more than anything. But what can you do?”

  I think of Cain and what he told me of his defunct marriage. Far be it from me to deny he can be a bit work oriented, but I just can’t see why his wife would hold that against him. I loved that my father was so focused on the job. Then again, I had ambitions to grow up and be just like him, so our situation was definitely unique.

  It must be hard for Cain. With his kids off at a private school and his ex-wife living with another man, that is. He doesn’t wear it on his sleeve, but it must get under his skin on some level. Poor guy.

  As we arrive at my uncle’s church, Severo can’t stop fussing with his tie. “Does this look right?”

  “It’s fine, trust me.” Despite my argument that it wasn’t necessary to be so formal with my family, he insisted he present himself as a fine, upstanding man of the law. I laughed pretty hard at that one. I have to wonder why he keeps a stash of spare clothing in the hatch of the Jeep, but then again, he’s a complicated guy. “Just relax,” I say, as we enter the rectory.

  When we pass through the hallway leading to my uncle’s private residence, I become aware of an argument in motion.

  “Mama,” my uncle is pleading to my grandmother. “Please, please sit down and relax. I am taking care of this.”

  Severo looks at me, confused, as I watch my two family members playing tug-of-war with a serving platter. “How old do you think I am, Son? Two or two hundred? Damn it all, I can set a table, Simon, so give me that damn plate!”

  “Mama, please! Not in the house of the Lord,” my uncle says, letting go of the plate to hold his hands to his head. “I don’t care what you do, just no speaking like that, please.”

  “Am I interrupting something?” I ask, and as soon as my mouth opens my grandmother quickly shuffles to me, leaving the debated platter behind.

  “Angie!”

  As I hug her snugly, taking in that familiar grandmother scent, I look over her shoulder to see Simon still upset by her choice of words. “Gran, you got to go easy on him, or it’ll be you taking care of him,” I joke.

  “That boy is so stubborn. Thinks I’m too old to do anything. Why the hell does he think I moved back here, anyways. To sit on my tush and waste away? I don’t think so.”

  Simon is waving his hands about, obviously feeling beaten by my grandmother’s vocabulary, but I’m sure he’ll get used to it very quickly. Gran always had a way of being direct. Leave it to her to abandon decorum in the house of God.

  “Now, who might this be?” Gran asks, stepping up to Severo. Her petite stature—maybe five feet—seems so small in comparison to the detective’s height, but with her head erect and her posture full of pride, I’d say the scales are fairly even.

  “Grandmother, this is Detective Carson Severo,” I say as they shake hands. Simon joins us to do the same. “He’s a good friend of my mentor’s, so we’ve been able to do some work together.”

  “And how’s my girl holding up out there?” Gran asks, without missing a beat. “She as good as I suspect she is?”

  Severo chuckles, looking at me for a quick second to gauge the reality of Gran’s direct nature, then very seriously replying to her inquisition. “Yes, she’s doing quite well.”

  “Mama, come sit, please,” Simon urges, placing a bottle of wine on the table. “You make me so nervous. Angie, tell your grandmamma to sit down and rest her hip.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Gran says, taking my hand as she pulls out a chair. “Didn’t I tell you that one’s a mama’s boy?”

  “He’s got a point, though, Gran. Don’t be doing too much too soon, okay? Remember, we need to save some energy for hitting the dance floor.”

  I begin to pour wine for the group, but my attention diverts for a moment when I hear the door down the hallway creak. “You expecting someone else, Uncle?” I ask, about to check it out for myself.

  “That’s probably just Denise,” Gran says, and her statement catches me off guard. I didn’t see that coming.

  “I thought it was just going to be us.” I don’t want my defenses to get the better of me, but I can’t understand why Denise would have been invited.

  “You brought along the detective.” Gran says, wearing a triumphant expression.

  “Hola,” Denise says, rounding the corner and laying her eyes upon us. “Hello, Simon, and Mrs. David, and…hello, Angie. Nice to see you again, so soon.”

  My grandmother peers at me, obviously curious as to what Denise is referring to, but I just shrug off her glance.

  “Likewise,” I say, swallowing my childishness. Whatever feelings I have toward Denise, I need to suck it up and fast.

  My father loved this woman and, apparently, my family is not going to forget that too easily. “Here, let me help you with that,” I say, taking a tray of dessert from her hands. “Denise, this is Detective Severo. He’s a…well, he’s a friend of mine.”

  Caught off guard by what exactly to say about
Severo, I don’t think anyone would care how I introduce him. He’s not much more than that at this point, unless of course I want to get into the details of our situation. But what would I say? That we’re hunting down a murderer and making out a little on the side? Yeah, that’d go over well, I’m sure.

  We spread out around the simple wooden table in Simon’s compact dining room, topped with a healthy selection of market finds and homemade treats. Baguettes and dips, cold cuts, salads and fruits make up our easy lunch.

  While my grandmother holds my hand, sitting next to me, she recounts stories with Denise. I suppose they haven’t talked to one another since my father’s funeral, so they likely have much to catch up on. I’m a little jealous of my grandmother’s time, but I know I’ll have her to myself very soon.

  Across from me sits Severo, and when I look at him he meets my glance, offering a subtle wink as my uncle tells him some story about the church’s history.

  Despite the pleasantry of this scenario, thoughts of my father fight for my attention. This is exactly the way we used to spend family time, sitting around the table, enjoying wine and an assortment of foods, sharing stories of our days at work, play and rest. I miss him so much. These past four months have been a constant heartache for me and I wish I could spend just one more moment with him.

  Having my grandmother back in the city will be great, as I really need to feel close to my family right now. With both her and my uncle aging, I want to spend as much time with them as possible and gather memories to last beyond their years.

  “It was bad timing,” my uncle explains to Severo, and I realize now he is telling the story of how my father died. “Joshua was undercover, working on something completely unrelated, when that robbery was taking place.”

  The detective cautiously looks at me as he says, “I read about it in the papers.” His eyes are soft, and I know he’s being delicate with the situation, understanding how this is such a sore spot for me. Uncle Simon was the one who brought it up, though, so I have no reason to be bent out of shape.

  “Yes, yes. It was everywhere,” Simon says, shaking his head in permanent disbelief. “Those young kids, with futures ahead of them. Terrible to get caught up in such horrible acts.”