Sassafras, Part 21

Joan


After that I decided to go back to the police station to talk to Detective Sneider again before I went to The Home. When I walked in the first thing I saw was Rick sitting in front of a computer. I didn’t believe it at first. I thought it must be someone else, but when Detective Sneider walked up to me and said my name he turned and look at me. It was Rick. I followed Detective Sneider to his desk, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Rick. He was smiling, and I realized I was, too.

When we got to Detective Sneider’s desk I almost tripped over a chair. I was finally able to look away from Rick and looked at Detective Sneider. "I didn't know you two knew each other," Detective Sneider said, looking over at Rick.

"We met last night at Tanner’s. Actually, I came here to ask you some questions about Jenny’s accident,” I said as I sat down. I pulled the coroner’s report out of the envelope and handed it to Detective Sneider, then started fanning myself with the empty envelope and trying to ignore Rick sitting two desks away. It felt so hot in there.

"Where did you get this?" Detective Sneider asked.

"The people at Whispering Acres gave it to me when I went there this morning. There are some things in here that don't make any sense." I flipped to the page with the gingerbread men outlines. "Her injuries don't look right. There was a hit and run case on Court TV and they showed this page. It didn't look anything like this one. The man on Court TV had a couple of bruises and some broken bones, but nothing like this. Both of his legs were broken, and on Court TV they said that when the bumper hits the victim's legs it usually breaks both of them right where it hits them. Neither of her legs are broken; she just had a bruise here on her thigh. And see all these marks on her arms? They look like defensive wounds, like somebody was attacking her.”

I noticed every time I mentioned Court TV Detective Schneider started snapping his lighter open and shut and looking at me like I was some senile old lady talking about her cats, which made me think about June. I needed to call and make sure she remembered to give Sophie her medicine. I didn’t want him to think I was a senile old lady like June, so I decided to change the subject. "I also don't understand why you found her body in front of the hardware store. She would never have gone that way if she were walking. She would have just cut straight through the alley and across the railroad tracks. She would only go in front of Scott's if she was driving, not if she was walking."

Schneider shrugged. "Maybe she was going to stop someplace else before going home. We just assumed she was walking home."

"But where would she be going alone in the middle of the night? And she left her jacket in Tanner's. I found it hanging up there last night. It was too cold to be wandering around without a jacket."

"Are you sure it was her jacket?" he asked.

"Yes, I bought it for her for Christmas. It even had her keys in the pocket, and a bunch of these things," I said and gave him the chips. "Billy said they are memory chips that go to her camera, but now her camera is missing, too."

"People do all sorts of strange things after they've been drinking," Sneider said, eyeing the camera chips. "I've seen people walk around in the snow with nothing on but a t-shirt and a pair of flip-flops. The coroner's report said she was drunk."

"That was something else I wanted to ask you about. The coroner said there was whiskey in her stomach, but the bartender said she was just drinking beer,” I said but Detective Sneider interrupted me.

"Miss Weaver," he sighed, "I know your sister's death is a shock for you, and you are just trying to help find whoever did this to her, but it was just an accident. Someone was just going too fast, or not watching where they were going. Maybe they had been drinking, or speeding, or talking on their cell phone. Asking questions about her jacket and things you saw on TV aren't going to help us find the person who did this to her.”

He stood up and walked around his desk to me. “Please, do me a favor and let me do my job. Go home, Miss Weaver," he said and started helping me out of my chair. "Joan, I promise, I'll call you if we get any leads.”

I stood there for a second, trying to think of something that would convince him to listen to me. I had the distinct impression he was just trying to get rid of me. I was still holding the coroner’s report and realized I had been folding and twisting it in my hands. I flattened it back out, and looked up at Sneider. “You have my number,” I said and stood up.

When I turned around and started walking I saw Rick standing by the door, smiling at me. Part of me wanted to run past him out the door, but part of me wanted to run up to him and wrap my arms around him, so of course I froze like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. I think he said something to me, but I didn’t know what. "Hi," I said, looking up at him and smiling, still thinking about making a run for it. I couldn’t believe I kissed him last night. Actually, I couldn’t believe anybody that met him wouldn’t want to kiss him. He was the classic tall, dark and handsome man of every woman’s dreams. What I found hard to understand was why he kissed me.

He was looking at me, and I realized he had said something else and I still hadn’t heard a word. I remembered the first thing I said to him last night, about the Middle Eastern country and having to marry me, but nothing witty came out this time. “Hi,” I said, and then realized I had just said that. “I mean, what?”

“You look beautiful,” he said. I didn’t know what to say. I looked down and could feel myself starting to blush. “What time should I come over tonight?” he asked.

‘What?” I looked back up at him. What was he talking about?

“Do you still want me to come over tonight?” he asked. “Don’t you remember? You invited me over for dinner last night. What time should I be there?”

No, I didn’t remember. I wondered what else I didn’t remember. “Yes, I remember,” I lied, and then started blushing more. “Six. Six is good.”

“Would you like me to bring anything with me?” he asked.

“I’m ok,” I said. “I mean, you don’t need anything. Need to bring anything I mean,” and then pressed my lips together before I embarrassed myself any further.

He was smiling even more, which made me even more nervous. How could he make me feel like this? In New York I worked with rich and famous clients, millionaires, senators, diplomats, movie stars. I even worked with royalty once, although that didn’t really count since it had just been Sara Fergusun, Her Ladyship or whatever she was instead of Her Royal Highness. I was always cool and in control, a model of professional behavior. How could a man I barely knew make me feel like I had no idea what I was doing?

“Okay. I didn’t know if red or white wine went with toast, anyway.”

As soon as he said toast I about fainted. “What?” I squeaked.

“Toast. You asked me if I liked toast.”

I put my hands up over my mouth. I was going to kill Maria. “I didn’t! Please say I didn’t invite you over, not for toast.”

He looked like he was going to start laughing. “Is toast some kind of new east coast fad?”

I just wanted to die. I couldn’t look at him. How could I have invited him over for toast? I started pacing when I thought of something. I stopped and looked at him. “So, I invited you over, for toast, and you said yes?” He just nodded. “For toast?” I repeated and he nodded again. I put my hands back over my mouth and tried not to laugh. “Maybe instead of wine you should bring jelly?” I said and then started laughing.