The Fate of Our Years (#11) - paperback

Chapter 1

Marlene Anderson held a thick, white ceramic mug with both hands. It hovered in front of her lips. “That’s really all you’re going to eat?” She sipped her coffee.

I pulled a piece of croissant free and held it up for her to inspect. “What’s wrong with it?”

We were seated in a booth at Madeline’s Cafe & Patisserie in downtown Spokane. The French-themed restaurant was nearly full, and its customers seemed in a pleasant mood. I’d only eaten at the establishment once, and that was many years before with my wife. The suggestion to meet at the popular destination was Marlene’s. She was waiting with her drink when I arrived.

She wore a silk burgundy top and black slacks. Marlene studied me from behind large wire-framed glasses. “You need more than a pastry and coffee for lunch.”

“It’s more than you’ve got.” I shoved the piece of croissant into my mouth.

She set her mug on the table. “I had an energy bar back at the office.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Big breakfast?”

I shrugged. “What are you doing downtown?”

She wiggled the cup handle back and forth. I wondered if she was considering my question or thinking about following up on my breakfast. “I met with an attorney.”

“For?”

“The program.” She waved off the rest of the explanation.

Marlene worked with Her Freedom, a women’s advocacy group. We’d met last year while I was investigating a murder. We got together for coffee or the occasional meal, but we rarely talked shop when we did. It wasn’t a hard-and-fast rule but one that developed naturally.

“You need to take better care of yourself,” she said. Marlene was about ten years younger than I am. She often said things as if she considered me an older brother, but perhaps that’s how female friends spoke.

I ripped another piece of croissant free. “I do fine.”

“Sure you do.” Her eyes softened. “I want you to do better, though.”

“You sound like Dean.”

“How is he, by the way?” She smiled. “Did they get back from their trip?”

“Last weekend.” I stuffed the bite of pastry into my mouth and rolled my eyes. “I’m sure they’ll want to show pictures.”

“Don’t be that way. The trip must have been amazing.”

“I guess.”

“Are you kidding? I would kill to go. Wouldn’t you? You told me you’ve never been.”

I hadn’t.

“Florence, Rome, Venice. All that history.” She shook her head in awe.

“It’s just looking at someone else’s pictures…” I let the thought trail off.

Marlene leaned in. “Take it from me. You should look forward to those moments. I don’t have a brother—or a sister, for that matter—and with Dad gone…” It was her turn to let her thoughts drift away.

A silence overtook us. I stared into my coffee for several seconds.

“Hey.”

I looked up and met her gaze.

Her long, auburn hair draped over her left shoulder. She tugged at it with a single hand. “Can I ask you something?”

My brow furrowed.

“It’s been a while since we’ve talked about it.” Marlene reached out and touched my hand. “When’s the last time you heard it?”

I looked away.

The coffee machine behind the counter hissed. Off to my right, a table full of women laughed. Outside, a primer gray muscle car drove along Main Avenue; it sounded like it was missing its muffler.

Overhead, a sugary song played. I could make it out, but I tried not to focus on it. I didn’t want to know what it was.

“Look at me, Dallas,” she said softly. “Is that why you seem off?”

Off. That was one word for it.

Shortly after my wife’s death, I began waking to snippets of music. At first, I wondered if Bobbie was trying to communicate from beyond the grave. Once I decided she wasn’t, the music changed. The songs attacked my consciousness during the day. I felt on the verge of a breakdown. My work suffered, and the department ordered I see a therapist. He identified the music as auditory hallucinations. They went away not long after that.

I knew I wasn’t crazy, but the diagnosis didn’t make me feel better.

She squeezed my hand. “You can tell me.”

“No, the music isn’t back.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

I stared at her hand in mine. She had nice fingers. What a stupid observation, I thought. She squeezed my hand again.

Her voice was gentle. “You miss it, though. Don’t you?”
Someone laughed in the kitchen. Outside, a car backfired.

“It’s okay if you do.” Marlene still didn’t release my hand. “I understand.”

I expected her to say something about addiction, but she didn’t. I was glad she avoided the topic. We’d talked about it long ago, so we didn’t need to rehash it. Marlene battled her monsters and won. I didn’t want to admit the demons I wrestled with were due to a fragile psyche. There was too much pride in confessing I missed the music—doing so would make me sound nuts.

“I’m sort of thinking about retirement,” I said.

“Yeah?” There was a lilt to her voice. “That’s exciting.”
I didn’t respond.

“Don’t you want to retire?”

“I don’t know.” My head bobbled from side to side. “Maybe it’s time to move on and let someone else move up the ranks.”

“Is that what you want to do?”

I hadn’t thought about it until recently. After Bobbie’s death, the job gave me something to hold on to—a touchstone for reality. Now it felt like a daily slog to the crime factory. The need to be in the fight against evil no longer felt important.

Unfortunately, I didn’t know what else was out there. What waited for me in retirement? All the plans I had with Bobbie no longer existed. Fulfilling them alone seemed hollow.

Marlene and I sat that way for several seconds—her holding my hand and me staring at her fingers. Eventually, she let go and settled back into her side of the booth. She grabbed her coffee cup with both hands but didn’t lift it from the table.

“That’s still no reason not to eat,” she said.

“I ate.” As soon as I said the words, I regretted them.
“What did you eat?”

Marlene should have been a detective. I didn’t have to reengage the subject, and I didn’t want to dig myself any deeper with another lie. Besides, I liked her too much to do such a thing. So, I avoided answering the question.

“I’ll eat dinner tonight.”

“I know you will,” she said. “You’re coming over.”

“Huh?”

“Make it six.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t, but it’s the only way I can make sure you’ll eat a healthy meal.”

I was about to argue when she added, “Besides, it’s been a couple weeks since you’ve seen Sadie. She’s been asking about you.”

I forced a smile.

“Don’t expect fancy. You know how I cook.”

“You do great.” My phone buzzed and the screen illuminated with the caller’s name—DISPATCH. “Hold on.” I swiped my thumb across the screen. “Nash.”

“Hey, Dallas. It’s Ed. Sorry to interrupt your seven.”

I had notified dispatch I was out for lunch and off my radio. “It’s fine.” I shrugged apologetically to Marlene.

She watched me with mild curiosity. She wasn’t a fan of the police department. We’d become friends despite her feelings about my employer.

“There’s a body,” Ed said.

“There usually is.”

I pulled a notebook from the inside of my suit jacket as Ed continued. Marlene sipped her coffee while the phone conversation played out. When I got the particulars from Ed, I hung up.

“Duty calls,” she muttered. She tried to hide her disdain for my employer, but it poked through in her tone.

“I need to go.”

We both took a final sip of our drinks and slid out of the booth.

“About that dinner,” I said. “I’ll probably need to cancel.”

Marlene shook her head. “Nonsense. Come by when you get done.”

“It might be late.”

“So? Spend the night.” The words tumbled out, and she gasped as if surprised by their utterance. Her eyes widened, and she blushed. Now, Marlene spoke in a hurry. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s okay.”

“Just stop by for a minute, and I’ll make you a to-go plate.” She kissed me on the side of the cheek, then backpedaled. “See you later, Dal.”

I stood there as she rushed out of the restaurant. She never looked back.