sudden he was looking for a place to stay and didn’t want anyone to know—would never answer the phone or go to the store or anything. This went on for a while, and finally I told him it wasn’t going to work for me much longer.” He looked at me a little apologetically. “Sometimes he could just get on your nerves.”
“Look, you don’t have to spare my tender feelings about Tony.” I was tired of being treated as the grieving widow. “I’m surprised you could even stay friends with him.”
“I didn’t really,” Kyle mumbled, tearing at the label on his mineral water bottle. “I kinda lost patience then. He said he couldn’t leave because someone would kill him. And I told him to go to the police for protection, because I sure couldn’t provide it, and frankly didn’t want to be involved.” Kyle got fired up a little, recounting this. “Then he said that’s who was trying to kill him.”
“Who?” Officer Gutierrez looked up from her notebook.
"The police.” Kyle set the bottle down on the coffee table. “He said they were after him.”
“Did he say why?” Officer Gutierrez looked skeptical.
“No. Next day, I come home from work, he’s gone. All his stuff moved out, not a sign of him. At first I thought maybe whoever they were had got to him, but then I noticed a lot of groceries were gone, too. That didn’t seem to indicate a hit.” Kyle smiled faintly. “I didn’t hear from him until his mother’s death. We got tight again for a while after that, but he never stayed long.”
“Was he still working at the shipping place?” This had become a burning question for me; I was determined to get an answer. Officer Gutierrez frowned, but Kyle answered.
“I don’t know. He said he was working contract stuff, and by that point I didn’t want to know what he was up to.” Kyle picked up his bottle again and finished the drink. “Every so often he’d call, we’d go out and have a meal, go to a concert or have a few beers. He always looked fine—I mean, not like he didn’t know where his next bath was coming from, or anything. Just ordinary.” He pushed his glasses up on his nose and smiled hopefully at me. “Liz, can you have dinner with me tonight? I mean—excuse me, ma’ am.” He turned politely to Officer Gutierrez. “Is that all you wanted to ask?”
“For now, anyway.” She stood up and turned to me. “I do, however, have further questions for Ms. Sullivan. If you would accompany me?”
“Just a minute.” Kyle got up, too. “Liz, would that be okay? Dinner? I feel awful that I suspected you, even for a second. I want to make it up to you.”
I glanced at Officer Gutierrez, who was visibly fuming. “That’s nice, Kyle, but probably not. I’m staying with my brother, and he’ll want some time to yell at me. Thanks anyway.”
Kyle stood in the apartment door, gazing wistfully after us. After me, it seemed. I was immensely flattered at his wish to spend time with me. Despite the horn-rims and the shaggy hair, Kyle was good-looking, and all that weekend trenching hadn’t done his shoulders any harm. I remembered him as impressive in his power suit and usual haircut, a kind of financial Clark Kent.
But attention from men still made me uneasy. After nearly a year of being neighbors with Drake and seeing each other often, I was just getting comfortable with him. It was infuriating to feel that I owed him any kind of sexual loyalty, seeing that neither of us had made that kind of claim on the other. But that’s how I felt.
I followed Officer Gutierrez down the stairs. Outside the door she turned to me. I noticed that she had a few inches on me, and she was mad.
“We’ll talk in your car.”
“Fine.” I led the way and unlocked the side door. “Watch out for Barker. He isn’t getting as much exercise as he likes these days.”
Barker was giving contradictory messages—his neck fur was up but his tail wagged furiously. He sniffed Officer Gutierrez’s
“Look, you don’t have to spare my tender feelings about Tony.” I was tired of being treated as the grieving widow. “I’m surprised you could even stay friends with him.”
“I didn’t really,” Kyle mumbled, tearing at the label on his mineral water bottle. “I kinda lost patience then. He said he couldn’t leave because someone would kill him. And I told him to go to the police for protection, because I sure couldn’t provide it, and frankly didn’t want to be involved.” Kyle got fired up a little, recounting this. “Then he said that’s who was trying to kill him.”
“Who?” Officer Gutierrez looked up from her notebook.
"The police.” Kyle set the bottle down on the coffee table. “He said they were after him.”
“Did he say why?” Officer Gutierrez looked skeptical.
“No. Next day, I come home from work, he’s gone. All his stuff moved out, not a sign of him. At first I thought maybe whoever they were had got to him, but then I noticed a lot of groceries were gone, too. That didn’t seem to indicate a hit.” Kyle smiled faintly. “I didn’t hear from him until his mother’s death. We got tight again for a while after that, but he never stayed long.”
“Was he still working at the shipping place?” This had become a burning question for me; I was determined to get an answer. Officer Gutierrez frowned, but Kyle answered.
“I don’t know. He said he was working contract stuff, and by that point I didn’t want to know what he was up to.” Kyle picked up his bottle again and finished the drink. “Every so often he’d call, we’d go out and have a meal, go to a concert or have a few beers. He always looked fine—I mean, not like he didn’t know where his next bath was coming from, or anything. Just ordinary.” He pushed his glasses up on his nose and smiled hopefully at me. “Liz, can you have dinner with me tonight? I mean—excuse me, ma’ am.” He turned politely to Officer Gutierrez. “Is that all you wanted to ask?”
“For now, anyway.” She stood up and turned to me. “I do, however, have further questions for Ms. Sullivan. If you would accompany me?”
“Just a minute.” Kyle got up, too. “Liz, would that be okay? Dinner? I feel awful that I suspected you, even for a second. I want to make it up to you.”
I glanced at Officer Gutierrez, who was visibly fuming. “That’s nice, Kyle, but probably not. I’m staying with my brother, and he’ll want some time to yell at me. Thanks anyway.”
Kyle stood in the apartment door, gazing wistfully after us. After me, it seemed. I was immensely flattered at his wish to spend time with me. Despite the horn-rims and the shaggy hair, Kyle was good-looking, and all that weekend trenching hadn’t done his shoulders any harm. I remembered him as impressive in his power suit and usual haircut, a kind of financial Clark Kent.
But attention from men still made me uneasy. After nearly a year of being neighbors with Drake and seeing each other often, I was just getting comfortable with him. It was infuriating to feel that I owed him any kind of sexual loyalty, seeing that neither of us had made that kind of claim on the other. But that’s how I felt.
I followed Officer Gutierrez down the stairs. Outside the door she turned to me. I noticed that she had a few inches on me, and she was mad.
“We’ll talk in your car.”
“Fine.” I led the way and unlocked the side door. “Watch out for Barker. He isn’t getting as much exercise as he likes these days.”
Barker was giving contradictory messages—his neck fur was up but his tail wagged furiously. He sniffed Officer Gutierrez’s
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