Chapter Three
Nothing has changed.
"You'd better just go ahead and arrest him," I told Darrin. "He's just going to keep lying, and we're not going to get any truth from him." Gerry's mouth dropped open and protests tumbled over each other.
"I told you it might not have been three. I admit it, it was one…I thought you might be mad if I let one guy get the drop—"
"Forget it, Gerry." Darrin cut him off. "You're lying. You weren't beat up or set upon by three men, or even one, on your way across the parking lot to drop off that deposit bag."
Damn. I still couldn't see it, but whiskey or not, Darrin's certainty was contagious. Whatever made Darrin positive, I'd find it. I started re-examining Gerry from head to toe.
"I'm not lying! I’m just nervous about the money and that Chance might fire me." Gerry's gaze flicked from me to Darrin and back again, eyes big and wide, and I knew he expected me to believe every word. He turned his pleading gaze on me. "Why would you believe that rookie over me? Because he blew you in the office? You're letting sex influence you!"
I stiffened and glared at Gerry. He quailed a bit as he recognized my fury. I'd always known that the building was old and sometimes drafty. On quiet nights when I was in the office I could hear the bartenders and customers chatting. I'd never really been able to distinguish words unless they were loud or emphatic, or fell into one of those odd spells of silence. It seemed to me that the only way Gerry could know with absolute certainty what went on in my office was if he were lingering very close to that closed door. "Were you eavesdropping?" I asked in as mild a voice as I could manage.
"Oh come on, boss! Everyone knows what goes on in your office when you go in there with a guy and the door is closed. Okay, yeah, I was watching, he's hot."
I looked at Darrin, who nodded affirmation. "No secret, Chance. It's pretty obvious when you go in with a good looking guy like that and you both come out all sleepy eyed and smudgy mouthed." He shrugged. "Rory was smudgy mouthed all right, but he didn't look very—"
I'd seen knowing glances passed around, sure. But somehow the difference between people speculating on what I'd been doing and people actually knowing…unsettling. "Okay, I get it." I'd have to give serious thought to finding a new place to go. Then again, what the fuck do I care who knows I'm getting blown? "Sex and lies…two different things, Gerry."
"You can't believe that guy over me! He's not even an experienced cop. You've known me for years, Chance. Why would I lie to you?" More big eyes and trembling lips.
Why indeed? "Oh, I didn't send him out of the room because I thought he was wrong, Gerry. I sent him out of the room because he was interrupting. I didn't need Rory to tell me you were lying, and I don't need Darrin to tell me either. Are you going to tell me he's a rookie and inexperienced, too?"
And there, I was calling him Rory again. Time to accept that maybe Rory was going to be something more than a few minutes of relaxation in the office? I could picture him, pacing around in that tiny space, simmering over my dismissal, and angry in a way that he hadn't been at the one-sided aspect of our little encounter.
"What about this?" Gerry demanded, yanking his hair back to expose the injury to his scalp. "Does this look like a lie?"
"Yeah. That looks like it hurt."
"It does! I didn't fight back; you always said if someone holds us up to give them what they want, that the money isn't worth losing a life over. I figured the same thing applied to mugging."
"Sure, the same thing would apply to mugging. But it doesn't apply to stealing." Gerry kicked the rung of the stool he was perched on, and a clump of debris from his shoe hit the floor. I scowled again. Sweeping and mopping were the last things I wanted to do tonight, especially with the new ideas I was having about Rory…but in addition to the aggravation of stealing my money, Gerry'd tracked enough muck in that I wouldn't have a choice.
A bright yellow poplar leaf in the muck held my attention and everything clicked into place. I'd seen exactly what Darrin had. I was just out of practice in drawing conclusions. Nothing had changed. I reached out and grabbed the hand that Gerry had used to push his hair away from his injury. Yes. A smear of whitewash ran across the sleeve on the underside, as though he'd leaned on the freshly painted cinderblock wall that divided my parking lot from the subdivision to the rear.
The exact opposite of the direction Gerry should have walked to get to the bank and his bus.