“Aaron Tripp”, cutting the entries down to four. All of which were about Detective Aaron Tripp of the Los Angeles Police Department.
Two results were articles in the archives of The Los Angeles Gay Times and had to do with Detective Tripp’s visibility as an openly gay member of the LAPD and his work with the police officer’s union to make sure gay policemen were treated fairly. Both articles mentioned his participation in the Los Angeles Gay Pride Parade.
Another result led me to his FaceSpace page. The page was, fortunately in my opinion, open for public viewing. His profile picture looked to be taken at a party. He was laughing and looked much friendlier than I’d seen him. He listed himself as single. His birthday was April 27 th . He read a lot of books.
I looked over his buddy list and noted that his partner Lucinda Hanson had a page. I clicked over to see what she had to say for herself. She was also single, not a surprise. Her favorite book was the Bible, and she belonged to a number of Catholic groups. Religious and a cop; Lucinda Hanson was the son my parents always wanted.
I heard a noise and looked up to find Detective Tripp coming back into the cubicle. I placed my phone face down so he couldn’t see what I was doing. My head filled with information, I took a closer look at Tripp than I had before. He was tall, three or four inches over six feet; his skin was the color of a coffee ice cream; his hair dark and close-cropped. If I’d met him under different circumstances--
“Tell me again how you met Javier,” Tripp asked.
“You already asked me that.”
“I have a bad habit of asking things more than once. Please just answer the questions and I’ll straighten it all out later.” His answer felt a little too polished. It wasn’t hard to figure out. He asked questions more than once to see if he got different answers.
“I met him online.”
“Which service?”
“On theeverythinglist.com.” It was free. Most of the actual gay dating sites charged. I wondered if he could trace that. Then I wondered if he’d bother.
“How long ago was this?” he asked.
“Our first date was the day before Halloween. So, around then.”
Suddenly, I remembered Eddie pissing in my bed. I was opening my mouth to tell Tripp about it when another detective came over. He pulled Tripp aside. From the look on Tripp’s face, they were talking about the shooting the night before. I picked up my phone and clicked it off.
Tripp came back and said, “I’ll get these notes typed up into a full statement. I’ll bring it by, and you’ll read it and sign it. Maybe later today, maybe tomorrow. That okay?”
“Yeah, sure.” I stood awkwardly while Tripp put the notes into a file. Quietly, I asked, “What’s the story with the picture?”
“My partner’s a hero. Saved a couple lives, mine included.”
“Oh,” I said. I wanted to ask him to tell me more, but he didn’t seem inclined to. In fact, he was pulling a file out of a stack. He looked anxious to open it. “I guess I should go,” I said. Tripp nodded absently, moving on to the next case.
As I drove home, I breathed a mental sigh of relief. For a moment, I thought I was going to get myself into all sorts of trouble for lying about how I’d met Eddie, but I seemed to have dogged a bullet. And, hopefully, Eddie’s family would never have to know what he did for a living. I also had to admit I didn’t relish the idea of telling an attractive police officer I’d paid for sex.
A few minutes later, I walked into my house and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I had the feeling something was very wrong. Someone had been in my house while I was gone. I found myself scanning the living room. There was something different, but I couldn’t tell what. I tried to calm myself. People had been in my house the night before. Why wasn’t that what I was feeling? Well, maybe it was. Maybe that’s all I was feeling.
Still, I looked everything over
Two results were articles in the archives of The Los Angeles Gay Times and had to do with Detective Tripp’s visibility as an openly gay member of the LAPD and his work with the police officer’s union to make sure gay policemen were treated fairly. Both articles mentioned his participation in the Los Angeles Gay Pride Parade.
Another result led me to his FaceSpace page. The page was, fortunately in my opinion, open for public viewing. His profile picture looked to be taken at a party. He was laughing and looked much friendlier than I’d seen him. He listed himself as single. His birthday was April 27 th . He read a lot of books.
I looked over his buddy list and noted that his partner Lucinda Hanson had a page. I clicked over to see what she had to say for herself. She was also single, not a surprise. Her favorite book was the Bible, and she belonged to a number of Catholic groups. Religious and a cop; Lucinda Hanson was the son my parents always wanted.
I heard a noise and looked up to find Detective Tripp coming back into the cubicle. I placed my phone face down so he couldn’t see what I was doing. My head filled with information, I took a closer look at Tripp than I had before. He was tall, three or four inches over six feet; his skin was the color of a coffee ice cream; his hair dark and close-cropped. If I’d met him under different circumstances--
“Tell me again how you met Javier,” Tripp asked.
“You already asked me that.”
“I have a bad habit of asking things more than once. Please just answer the questions and I’ll straighten it all out later.” His answer felt a little too polished. It wasn’t hard to figure out. He asked questions more than once to see if he got different answers.
“I met him online.”
“Which service?”
“On theeverythinglist.com.” It was free. Most of the actual gay dating sites charged. I wondered if he could trace that. Then I wondered if he’d bother.
“How long ago was this?” he asked.
“Our first date was the day before Halloween. So, around then.”
Suddenly, I remembered Eddie pissing in my bed. I was opening my mouth to tell Tripp about it when another detective came over. He pulled Tripp aside. From the look on Tripp’s face, they were talking about the shooting the night before. I picked up my phone and clicked it off.
Tripp came back and said, “I’ll get these notes typed up into a full statement. I’ll bring it by, and you’ll read it and sign it. Maybe later today, maybe tomorrow. That okay?”
“Yeah, sure.” I stood awkwardly while Tripp put the notes into a file. Quietly, I asked, “What’s the story with the picture?”
“My partner’s a hero. Saved a couple lives, mine included.”
“Oh,” I said. I wanted to ask him to tell me more, but he didn’t seem inclined to. In fact, he was pulling a file out of a stack. He looked anxious to open it. “I guess I should go,” I said. Tripp nodded absently, moving on to the next case.
As I drove home, I breathed a mental sigh of relief. For a moment, I thought I was going to get myself into all sorts of trouble for lying about how I’d met Eddie, but I seemed to have dogged a bullet. And, hopefully, Eddie’s family would never have to know what he did for a living. I also had to admit I didn’t relish the idea of telling an attractive police officer I’d paid for sex.
A few minutes later, I walked into my house and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I had the feeling something was very wrong. Someone had been in my house while I was gone. I found myself scanning the living room. There was something different, but I couldn’t tell what. I tried to calm myself. People had been in my house the night before. Why wasn’t that what I was feeling? Well, maybe it was. Maybe that’s all I was feeling.
Still, I looked everything over
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