The Wife of a Lesser Man (LA Cops Series Book 1) (4 page)

Looking over at the file cabinet, Mark noticed his assistant Lisa had neatly piled all the other open case files for him to review.  It looked like he had a lot of catching up to do. 
Well, it’s not going to get done by sitting here staring at it.
  He got up from his chair and picked up the first half of the pile.  There was a dull pain in his lower back from the little bit of cycling he had done a few days ago, so he decided to stand and read.  Suddenly he heard a knock at the door.  It was Richard, Mark motioned him in.

Slightly winded he said “There’s been an accident.  We need you in the conference room.”  Mark followed; both men taking steps double the length of their normal stride.  When they reached the conference room, the door was closed, which was odd because if there was a media briefing it was usually opened and swarmed by cameras and members of the local news; people attending were blinded by the camera flashes and deafened instantly by the circus of reporters immediately peppering him with questions regarding the case.  Mark looked at Richard and furrowed his brows “What the hell is going on?”  Richard didn’t answer but opened the door.  His face had a strange grin.

Everyone yelled “Surprise!!”  Mark looked shocked and then changed to a look as if to say “oh my god, you people are a bunch of crazy asses.”  They all clapped and came over to greet him.  There was a banner on the conference room wall that read “Welcome Back Chief!!” printed on several 8 ½” x 11” sheets of paper tacked up with thumb tacks.  Streamers hung from the ceiling like someone had toilet papered the whole place with varying colours of ass wipe.  Some balloons were haphazardly hanging on loose scotch tape, ready to fall and pop at any moment.  It was clearly a party put together last minute by the guys; no women could have been part of this, Mark thought.  This was more like something put together by a bunch of drunken frat guys.

He couldn’t help but laugh as he looked around.  He was so used to Shelley’s well planned and professionally organized parties.  There was no food or drinks, just about twenty members of the precinct, including Richard, Noonan and Hobbs and some other beat cops.  Andy, the Deputy Chief was there, too and a couple of the newer guys hired right before Mark got sick. 

“You guys are a bunch of morons,” Mark commented, smiling.  A small chuckle came from his mouth as his head swayed from side to side.  “I can only guess who put you all up to this,” he said, looking at Richard with one eyebrow cocked. 

He kept on as the guys walked past him and shook his hand.  Noonan, a twentysomething cop, well groomed like the rest of them with a brush cut and cleanly shaven, approached Mark and said, “Looking good, chief.  Looks like the wife has been laying off all that good food.  We’ve missed it around here.”  He nodded and Mark playfully smacked him on the shoulder.  “Yeah, those days are over I’m afraid-“ Richard cut in “Yeah, it’s all fat free mayo and turkey breast from now on.”  The guys all laughed at Mark’s expense.  He took Richard in a head lock and gave him a sizeable noogie, carefully using his most calloused knuckle to drive into his friend’s scalp.  Richard recovered by licking his hand and doing a very bad Fonzie impression, miming the character’s famous comb manoeuvre.

A couple of the guys played along and said “Aaayyyy!” in Arthur Fonzarelli’s low, rugged voice with both thumbs pointing north, just as he famously did.  Mark ended the charade by giving each of the participants an affectionate smack on the back of the head.  “Alright, alright.  Since there’s no food or drinks, or dancers here like at a
real
party, I suppose all there is left is to get back to work.”  Mark scoffed with his hands outstretched.  Hobbs, Noonan’s partner high fived Mark as he walked past him “Hey, glad to have you back, Chief.” 

“Thanks man, good to be back.”

Lisa, Mark’s assistant sauntered by.  In her former life she had been a beat cop.  She lost her leg after an injury on the job when she was twenty five.  Nobody could tell she had a prosthetic leg.  She moved up in the ranks to become the Chief’s assistant.  She’d seen a few chiefs of police come and go over the years, but Mark held a special place in her heart.  He treated her the way she wanted; like one of the guys.  Lisa and Richard dated briefly after his divorce, but it never stuck; their camaraderie at work outweighed their attraction to one another. 

“Oh there you are, Mark.  Shelley’s on the phone.”  She winked affectionately.  “Yeah thanks, I’ll be right there.”  He responded, looking at his watch.  “Thanks guys for the er…um….this.” He joked, winking and waved to everyone as he walked out to meet Lisa.

“Did Andy bring you that file you asked for?”  she asked.

“Sure did.  And I saw the others on my credenza, thanks.”  Mark’s head cocked back in an afterthought.  He turned around and saw Richard standing with a few of the guys that stayed back. 

Mark yelled “Hey Richard?”  Richard looked up, he had been casually laughing, his body turned to face Mark’s. 

“Make sure you clean up that fire trap before the next media circus hits, okay?”  He smiled and laughed, knowing the only thing Richard hated more than setting up for a party was cleaning up after it.  Richard lifted one hand up and showed him his middle finger.  Mark was about to reply when Lisa interjected “Nevermind children, I’ll look after it…..Lord knows he’ll clean it up as well as he placed it.”  Mark looked at Lisa, Richard was approaching from behind.  “That’s okay Lisa, I was just joking.  I’ll do it.”  He said, smiling and putting his hand on her shoulder.  Mark interrupted, “Why don’t you two lovebirds
both
clean it up, while I go answer the phone.”  His voice was warm and his hands were on each of their backs.  He gave each of them a small pat and walked away. 

When Mark left, Richard still had his hand on Lisa’s shoulder.  He looked at her seriously and said, “Streamers are flammable right?  I’ll go get my torch.” Lisa blinked and responded “And
I’m
the one who lost a leg.” 

…

Richard sat in his office; it was past eight o’clock.  Out of habit, his fingers ran through his hair, scratching at the stubble on his crown.  If he kept up with that, he would soon have none to scratch, he thought to himself.  Feeling fatigued and listless, he rose from his chair to grab his tenth coffee of the day.  As he walked past Mark’s office, he checked the door to ensure Mark remembered to lock it.  Turning the knob and feeling resistance, he was satisfied. Richard stood there a moment, staring at the dark room; looking at the files neatly piled on the desk with post it notes attached in strategic places. 

A picture of Mark hung on the wall; he could only see the glass of the frame shining in the fluorescent light filtering in from Lisa’s room.  He knew which one it was though.  The picture was taken the day Mark became Chief of Police.  There he stood beside his friend, arms draping each other’s shoulders and huge smiles brightening their faces.  Shelley had taken the picture that day.  The pride in her face was unmistakable.  Richard wished he could have seen that pride in Wendy’s face; but he never did.  He looked down at the floor and frowned. 

“Why so glum chum?”  Lisa asked.

Richard gasped, he was startled but wasn’t sure why.  He had already noticed her office light was still on.  “Ah, just tired I guess.”

She looked in Mark’s office and directed her head in the direction of his door.  “Do you miss Mark?”  she said in a soft voice.

He wiped his nose unconsciously “Yeah, I guess.  It sure isn’t the same staying late without him.”  He felt his face flush slightly.

Sensing his embarrassment, Lisa looked at Richard and asked, “Is there anything you need help with?  Misery loves company.” 

He faced Mark’s office again.  “Well, if you haven’t got anything else I could use a key to get those files off his desk.  He forgot to leave them with me.” 

She put her hand in her pocket and brought out a large key ring with about twenty keys attached.  The ring was affixed to a bright pink curly cord, the kind that used to belong on telephones.  Richard moved to the side and she opened the door with one turn of the key.  He followed her in as she switched on the light.  His eyes went immediately to the picture on the wall he had been looking at earlier. 

Lisa looked at the pile of files and commented, “It looks like they’re all here.  He didn’t take any home.”  She sat down in one of the guest chairs and began thumbing through the files.  “Andy’s been working on these, too, but I think he’s gone as far as he can.  He gave his copies to Noonan yesterday.  They’re doing some follow up on the break and enter from last week.  Hobbs is helping Noonan canvas for that one.  Giles and Morgan are working on the theft and domestic disturbance from the week before, and I think the only other ones are the DUI and grand theft auto from that same week.”  She cleared her throat, “I know Mark wanted the Reed murder file in particular.  That one is right on top.”

Richard nodded in acknowledgement as she read off all the cases.  “Has any of the evidence come back from the crime scene?”  he asked. 

“No, just what’s in the file.  We should be getting something back tomorrow or the next day.  Trace is dragging their ass this week since Bob’s been on vacation.  No surprises there.”  Bob was the lead pathologist and he took two weeks of vacation a year, somehow the morgue never seemed to plan for it.  They had a rookie pathologist on staff and were ill prepared for the murder.  “Have we gotten the pictures back from the scene?”  Richard asked, in disbelief,  “No, we don’t even have those yet.  No wonder Mark was pissed off and went home early.”  Richard nodded.  He paused, looking down at his hands interlaced above his knees. 

“Hey, you okay?”  Lisa asked, looking directly at him.

He hesitated for a moment and answered “Do you want to go out for dinner?”

…

Mark’s face was surprised exasperation when I presented him with his plate filled with pretend beef stew.  I playfully smacked him on his shoulder and walked over to the switch plate to dim the lights.  He had his fork in hand and he was carefully lifting up morsels of food and looking under them. 

“
What
are you doing?”  I asked, trying not to appear upset.

He laughed “Nothing, nothing.  I’m just horsing around.  Don’t worry, it looks delicious, I promise.”  His hands were outstretched in front of him, as if to ward off any confrontation.

“I worked really hard to prepare this meal, Mark.  You have no idea how frustrating it is to have to cook such challenging meals for such a
challenging
…..
palate
.”  I said, forcing out a laugh to soften the reality but at the same time make him aware of my bruised feelings.

“I know,” he said, rising and taking my hands, leading me to my seat. 

“I appreciate how hard you work to try to keep me happy.  Really I do.”  He held my hands in his and looked directly into my eyes.

“It’s just taking me more time than I thought it would to get used to all this change, that’s all.  I mean…I don’t drink or smoke and never have.  I’m no more than twenty pounds overweight and that only transpired in the last five years or so.  I just never thought I would go through this.  I was just as shocked as everyone else was having the heart attack…I mean
me
….
I
had a heart attack.”  He paused. “It still makes my head shake a little.”  He took a sip of his water.  “Food is pretty much my only real guilty pleasure.  It’s tough when you can’t enjoy junk food.  What makes it even harder is knowing that if I eat it….well, it could
kill
me.”  He shook his head and took another sip of water. 

“Well, I’m bound and determined to find food that
is
a guilty pleasure for you.  And look at it this way:  if your cholesterol goes back down, you can start eating some guilty stuff in moderation again.”

Mark raised his water glass, “I’ll drink to that.”  We clinked our glasses, “I’m starving, let’s eat.” 

…

After dinner we snuggled on the couch and watched a movie.  Mark kept cursing because I ran the dishwasher and he had to keep raising and lowering the volume to drown out the noise. 

“God, that’s annoying.  You want to go upstairs and watch it?  Where it’s quieter?”  I grabbed the disc out of the player and followed him.  I playfully nudged his rear a couple times on the way up the stairs. 

“Hey cut that out!”  He laughed, waving my hand away from behind.  “I’ll get you back.” 

“That’s what I was hoping for,” I said, my eyebrows raised and lowered twice.

He turned around and faced me when we reached the top of the stairs.  His arms wrapped around me.  Our noses were touching.  “You have no intention of finishing that movie, do you?”  he asked.  I kissed him passionately and he responded by tightening his hold.  He began walking backwards, leading me into the bedroom.  I dropped the disc on the floor and left it.  My body was pulsing with desire; it had been so long since we made love.  My breathing was heavy and my movements were fast, getting myself and Mark undressed.  He actually stood back and let me take over, or at least that’s what I thought he was doing.

Once our clothes were off, I put my arms around him and slowly led him onto the bed.  His hands were surprisingly still.  I straddled him, and he laid there and watched as I moved all over. Kissing, licking and touching him.  He suddenly touched my bottom and I cried out, hungry for him to touch me more.  His hands gave a strange gesture, kind of like a hold, as if he was telling me to stop.  I looked up at him, and he had an odd look on his face.  He was concentrating, but he didn’t look like he was enjoying himself.