Chapter 5

Gerry had agreed to keep his eye on the comings and goings to the building and help keep the police abreast of any strange faces around the neighborhood.

Later that same evening, Inspector Gibbons called to check up on me and to see if I recalled anything important. Right now the case was lukewarm at best and they were working on the list of leads they had. Right in the middle of the conversation, there was an earthshaking kaboom in my parking lot. I stretched the phone cord as far as I could get it to peer out the window. My onsite protection had just gone up in smoke—meaning that the unmarked had blown up, complete with the officer aboard.

“Oh my God!” I screamed into the phone. “Call 911, and get over here.”

“Why?” he yelled back. “What’s going on out there?”

“The unmarked just exploded.”

The line went dead. It didn’t take long for EMS and police to surround the building. Gerry and Gibbons showed up on my doorstep at the same time.

Thank goodness no one else was in the back lot and my own car was far enough away from the unmarked. It had been parked in the back forty next to the dumpster to help me remain inconspicuous—but not inconspicuous enough, I guess, as someone had figured it out and eliminated my only source of official protection. The only thing to catch fire besides the car was the dumpster. There really wasn’t enough left of the patrol car, or its driver to examine. I had to wonder if the next kaboom would be the building. Gibbons sent a bomb squad through the building along with a couple of hounds just to make sure we weren’t going up in smoke anytime soon.

Just at that point the phone rang. As a reflex I answered it, prepared to ask the person to please call back. What I got was a voice on the phone that sent chills up and down my spine.

“Whatcha gonna do now, bitch, without the cops to protect you?”

“Who is this?” I demanded. “What do you want with me?”

“It’s my way of letting ya know I don’t appreciate the attempts made to repo my car.”

“So why are you calling me? I didn’t do it.”

“You tracked me down. That’s enough for me. You turned your hound onto me to make the collection. I can deal with a lot of shit lady, but no one takes my car. Ya get my meaning?”

“Uh, yeah.” I motioned Gibbons to come and listen in but instead he grabbed the phone.

“Gibbons here. Who is this?” Click, the line disconnected.

“Damn. What did you do that for? I was handling it!”

“It’s not for you to handle—it’s police business,” he yelled back.

“The hell it is! It’s my life he was threatening, not yours!” I was nose to nose with the detective at this point.

“Okay,” he said, “I can appreciate that. But you aren’t the one investigating, we are.”

Yeah, well a lot of good that is with a dead cop and burning car in the back lot and no solid leads and I got a strange man whispering threats in my ear what’s next, I thought.

“What are you going to do now Einstein, replace him with another sitting duck?”

“Easy, we bug the phone. Move you to a safe place and move a decoy in to make it look good like everything is normal, like you are still here. More enforced obvious police presence in the neighborhood.”

“I agree to bugging my calls: But a decoy? And where am I going to go? I have pets! I have a life. I have to work, pay bills.”

Gerry jumped in at this point. “I want to help here—Laura and the menagerie can stay with me. I will go where she goes, except of course to the ladies room.”

“Thanks, Gerry, but you can’t guard me 24/7. You have to work, and what are your girlfriends gonna say about me on your sofa bed?”

“Well, I just won’t have the girls over. Anyway, my life is dull. A couple of cats ought to shake things up. I also have vacation time coming to me for a few weeks. To tell you the truth—there aren’t that many girls.” He winked.

It takes a real man to admit to that much. We both looked at the police detective for approval of the plan—to which we got a nod.

“What I need,” says Gibbons, “is to know word for word what he said. Was there any accent or vocal inflection?”

I told Gibbons pretty much word for word what the guy on the phone had said to me.

No accent but he had the street lingo down pretty good.

“Street lingo?” asked the detective

“Yeah. like rap talk, gangsta stuff.”

Gerry looked at me like, What do u know about that shit?

“I listen to 50 Cent. I’m down with that.”

“You scare me, Laura,” Gerry said.

“Don’t worry. I scare me too.”

“Well,” said Gibbons, “we’ll get the decoy in here and put the bug on the phone. Take everything you’re going to need out of here, down to Gerry’s—and you might want to get a wig or a dye job so you look different. We want to make sure our suspect thinks he is following you around when it’s the decoy. We’ll provide you with a rental car so the decoy can drive yours. Meanwhile, you and Gerry ride together for tonight.”

Gerry grabbed a baseball hat and a pair of sunglasses and said, “Come on ‘cousin’ Cindy, we’re going shopping.”

Gibbons headed for the door, and looked at both of us. “Good luck Gerry. You may need it with this one.”

I stuck my tongue out at both of them, grabbed the cat carrier and headed out of my apartment.

Gerry got my stuff settled in his room after he lost the toss over who got the bed.

“I was going to give it to ya anyhow.”

“Yeah sure, I believe you. Millions wouldn’t but I do.”

“Come on, Red,” he said. “We've got some things to do. Like shop for hair dye.”

“Red? As in what, hair colour? How do you know I didn’t want to go blond?”

“You ain’t any blond, schweetheart”

“Schweetheart? Who do you think you are, Bogie?”

“Yeah, so…”

“That’s the worst Bogie I have ever heard. And why red?”

“Got a visual of you as a redhead—Julia Roberts red. Works for me somehow. With sexy librarian glasses and stiletto heals – fishnet stockings…”

I picked up a pillow and threw it at him.

“Can the fantasies, Fitz.”

We left the apartment building out the side door and headed out back to his truck. I was sporting his jean jacket, Jays cap and Ray Bans as a disguise. We decided to eat dinner first and then go shopping. I lost the toss on the radio station so we headed toward the No Frills with Eminem booming from the stereo.

I hoped our “rooming” together was going to work out before I went totally nuts or the guy got caught, whichever came first. I called my mom to tell her I was going on vacation for a bit. This was just to sidetrack the issue that I really didn’t want to stay with them instead of Gerry. If they knew I was staying with Gerry there would be too many questions asked. So I just figured I would tell them I was staying at Elaine’s cottage and they could reach me on my cell. I hung up before Mom could start up with the safety lectures. It was better off that she thought I was going off with the girls for a week.

The next call was to the agency to state that I was taking a stress leave and I would call when I was available for work.

I think all the bases were covered. I told Elaine that my folks thought we were off together so she shouldn't call their place looking for me. None of my other friends would call my folks, so that tied up those loose ends. We stopped at a fast food joint to grab dinner, and make a list of provisions we would need.

We got our shopping done. After returning to Gerry’s apartment, I dyed my hair “Julia Roberts” red, dried it and put in brown contacts. The transformation was amazing! I felt like a new woman. Gerry had fallen asleep on the couch while I was in the bathroom. I turned off the TV and headed to bed early. There was a message on Gerry’s answering machine that my car was being dropped off at ten am at the expense of the department.

My new life, such as it was, was about to begin. Until the killer/stalker was caught I was Cynthia Fair, Gerry’s cousin.

Chapter 6

My first day incognito.

How was I supposed to not act like me and not do the things that I normally do? What if I did all those things anyway? How would whoever our mystery man is know the difference?

I could not wrap my head around these questions without a coffee and a pile of donuts. I went out to the kitchen to pour the cup of coffee. I opened the fridge and found no donuts. There was something wrong with this picture.

“Where are the donuts?

“No donuts—there are, however, trail bars in the cupboard.”

In my mind, squirrel kibble does not mix well with coffee.

Gerry was going out to do the usual stuff he does around the building. He asked if I wanted to tag along.

“Why?”

“Cousin Cindy would help,” he said. “Besides, there’s a bag of donuts for ya if you do.”

“She would, would she?” I was doubtful about this. I wanted donuts but I also have principles about bribery. “Nah… I have some errands to run and the car should be here soon.”

“Oh yeah,” he said. “The rental guy dropped it and the keys off already.”

“Great. I’ll get ready and go then.”

“Go where?”

“Out and about,” I replied. “I really don’t need a babysitter and there are some things a girl just wants to do on her own.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t feel I need to tell you everything. We have to make this work but I can’t be sat on either.”

“Okay, but take your cell phone so I can find you. I made a promise to protect you and I intend to keep it. Besides, you are my friend and I care about you.”

“Okay, okay, I get the point. Enough mush before I lose it. You can come along. And,” I added, “you get to buy me donuts.” So much for going out to buy my personals, I thought to myself. I felt like a road trip just to get out of the smog-ridden city. I called Gibbons just to let him know we were heading north for the day. He wasn’t in so I left him a voice mail.

“Heading north?” Gerry asked. “Why?

“We need some fun, Gerry. Let’s not think about my predicament for one day. You go do your chores and I will pack us a lunch for the road and I’ll meet you back here.”

Gerry looked at me with a few doubts, but was willing to go along with the plan, and shrugged. We met in the apartment an hour later and I was packed and ready with enough stuff for a week as usual, just in case. I had checked the weather channel and had dressed in shorts and my Jays jersey, and advised Gerry that it was a stinker out there.

We grabbed our stuff and headed toward the rental, which turned out to be a brand new Honda CR-V. I looked over the controls and the wiper fluid situation. I noticed the car had Onstar, and a bitchin’ stereo system to rival the one in Gerry’s truck. I looked over at Gerry, and he was grinning and shaking his head.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“You’re worse than my cousin Mike, the mechanic. I bet your dad wanted a boy.”

“Yep. He wanted a garage mechanic but got my two sisters and me instead, and I was the closest thing to a tomboy he was going to get. I grew up learning how to change a flat, replace the oil, and pump gas.”

We finally got going. I wasn’t even on the 401 heading east before Gerry nodded off and was snoring away. Great, I thought, treat a guy to a road trip and he’s got to nap.

It wasn’t long before I felt the back of the car being nudged from behind. I looked in the rear view mirror. The driver behind us was wearing a menacing look on his face. I was tempted to flip the bird at him but did I really want to incite road rage in an already crazed driver.

I woke Gerry up and called his attention to the situation. We agreed that we should pull off the highway and see if the guy just wanted to move along in traffic or was he kissing my rear bumper for a reason. Secretly I hoped the moron would just keep going, but much to my curious displeasure, he followed us off the road. We pulled onto the shoulder and he slammed me from behind. What the hell was this guy trying to pull? I got out of the SUV and went back to his car, which to my pleasant surprise was a top of the line Ferrari.

Gerry, not wanting me to face the driver alone, came up beside me when I knocked on the driver side window. The driver rolled down his window, and I was greeted with noxious cigar breath and a mouthful of half rotted teeth. Obviously, good oral hygiene was not on the gentleman’s list of priorities.

I held my breath while the smoke cleared, and then asked him if there was any reason why he had his nose up my exhaust pipe. I also informed him he’d be getting a bill for the damage on the Honda. He stepped out of the car and got in my face. The weasel that he appeared to be was trying to intimidate me. Gerry stepped in between us.

“What’s your beef, pal?” Gerry asked him.

“Get lost, Bluto,” the weasel replied. “My business is with the little lady here.”

“Do I know you?” I piped up. “What possible business could you have with me? If you are trying to jack my car you are obviously trading down.” I was trying to act tough but my knees were shaking. It was easy to do the hard-ass bitch routine with Gerry along. A guy his size is a good deterrent to harassment of any kind. The weasel was trying to get by Gerry—who by the way was having none of it.

“Spit it out, pal,” Gerry said.

“Okay if you must know,” he relented, “we have a mutual acquaintance.”

“And that would be who?” Gerry persisted.

“Our mutual friend, whom I am not at liberty to identify, would like you and your little bitch friend here to tell the pigs to back off before there are further 'accidents'.”

Shivers went up my spine. It was him—the phone guy from the night of the explosion at my building. I motioned to Gerry that I was going to call 911 and get Gibbons over here.

I reached Gibbons and told him there was an incident and gave him directions—and asked him to hurry before Gerry made a citizens arrest. I was not entirely sure that a citizen’s arrest was the proper term but he had the weasel by the scruff of the neck of his coat, and up against his car.

It was obvious that we had foiled Plan A. I couldn’t prove it but my guess was that the weasel was planning to follow me further east and onto an isolated side road. Meanwhile, we had him detained until the police showed up. I wanted to laugh at the lack of professionalism—the guy was a pathetic amateur at this sort of thing from all the mafia movies and police shows I watched. Tony Soprano had better intimidation tactics than this guy. He looked like a weasel, and the only thing about him the least bit deadly was the disgusting overall body odor.

Gibbons arrived in his car followed by a regular patrol car. An officer read the guy his rights and escorted the man in cuffs to the patrol car. He was screaming about his rights and claimed we were trying to jack his ride.

Gibbons was questioning us. ”Are you positive it was him, the same guy?”

“Pretty sure,” I said. “His tone when he referred to me as Gerry’s bitch was the same.”

“We’ll have to see if he is equally talkative at the station, or if he clams up. We won’t be able to hold him on much besides dangerous driving.”

“Yeah,” I said, “and while you have him there, give him a good shower and advise him of the importance of good oral hygiene.”

Gibbons shook his head and chuckled. “Always a woman to think of these things. You’re one tough cookie, Laura.”

“Thanks,” I said. “It’s a lot nicer than bitch.”

Gerry slung his arm around my shoulder. But, he said, smiling, “You’re my bitch.”

I punched him in his gut.

“The hell I am. I’m your cousin and don’t you forget it.” I walked toward the SUV. “You going to stand there and look pretty or are you coming?”

“Looks like cousin Cindy has a temper.” Gerry winked at the inspector.

Gibbons grinned and said he would let us know what was going on with our weasel.

Gerry looked at the Honda. There was no real damage to the bumper. The Ferrari was being towed to the police impound.

“So,” he said, getting into the SUV, “you still up for a road trip?”

“No. I am not in the mood. Just imagine if he had gotten us out on the open deserted road. What if he'd had a gun and managed to shoot one of us, or both.” I had to stop with what ifs or I’d corkscrew myself into a good panic attack. However, these were legitimate worries—and they were starting to get to me. It was quite clear that I was not safe to drive alone because I was being tailed. The question was still why.

After that ordeal all I wanted was a pepperoni pizza with double cheese and a beer. We found ourselves a reputable pizza joint and proceeded to eat and drink too much. Gerry drove us home. I must have conked out on Gerry’s couch because the next thing I remember it was 8 p.m. and very dark outside, and I was covered with his quilt.

He didn’t seem to be around so I snuck into the bathroom to grab a quick shower in peace. I opened the bathroom door and screamed—as there was Gerry standing in the bathroom, buck-naked.

“What the—— What are you doing?”

“Um, I believe this is what you call shaving.”

“Don’t you have towels?”

“Can’t I shave nude if I want? It is my bathroom.”

“Yes, but you have a roommate…who happens to be female. At least lock the door.”

He turned to face me and said. “You just can’t handle seeing a real man, can you?”

I covered my eyes. “For the love of God, please just put on a towel.” Then I stalked out of the bathroom and yelled at him to lock the door, and let me know when he was done.