Paging Detective Reynolds

With a killer to catch, Tiff forgot it was Valentine’s Day. Sauntering around the suspect’s home, she noted the tagged evidence and made her way to the bedroom. Seafoam green ceramic pieces were scattered on the shag carpet. A smashed light bulb, and a lamp shade across the room. Wardrobe drawers sat ajar with shirts and pants hanging over the edge. Remembering her training days, she maneuvered to the closet, light on her feet.

Once there, she scanned the shelves of shoes: Reebok sneakers and slouch boots. Tiff preferred loafers. She looked at rails of clothing: one of tracksuits and the other of strong-shouldered jackets and skirts. Tuning into her detective intuition and desperate for a discovery, she scanned the top shelves. Boxes stacked on boxes, but one caught her eye. Tucked in the corner, stripes of cream and mauve. With her plastic-glove-wearing hands, she raised to the tips of her toes and grabbed her target. Once it was in her grasp, she realized it was shaped like a heart. If she wasn’t so enthralled by chasing a fugitive murder suspect, then this would’ve reminded her of her dinner plans with her fiancé. However, all her energy was with this box. As she envisioned her team hoisting her on their shoulders because she found the missing clue, she lifted the lid. With the contents revealed, she gasped.

***

While panting, she swung open the restaurant’s door and jogged to the host.

“Hello, ma’am. How may I help you this evening?”

“I’m late,” she huffed and puffed, folding over and resting her hands on her knees. “Reservation under Wright.” As he scanned his list of names, she exhaled through her teeth, drawing stares from fellow patrons. She didn’t notice them. All she wanted was a cold beverage and to take off her coat.

“You can follow me, ma’am.”

She nodded and mustered the stamina to stand straight again. Like a no-fun conga line of two, they walked past the bar and toward the tables. Using her police brain, she noted the dim lighting and folded napkins. All the servers wore tuxedos, so she smoothed out her ponytail and rolled back her shoulders. But she didn’t maintain the posture for long. Once she saw Jerry, she waved like a kid seeing their best friend. However, all he did was finish his drink before nodding in her general direction. As she took off her coat and placed it on the back of her chair, the host waited. While they tried pulling out and pushing in her chair for her, she fumbled around, new to this high-class chivalry. Once seated, she muttered a thank you and faced her dining partner.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, honey,” she said before puckering up for a kiss. He didn’t meet her, so she pulled back. “I’m sorry I’m late. You won’t believe what happened at work today. We searched the house of a fugitive murderer, and I found a box of --”

“Good evening, ma’am,” a new voice interrupted and stood before them. “My name is Charles. I'll be your server this evening. What would you like to drink?”

“Do you have Coors here?” She asked.

Jerry scoffed and shook his head. Tiff turned to him, her eyes burning into his side.

“Yes, we do, ma’am,” the server responded.

“Thank you, Charles,” she added. 

“Would you like another drink, sir?”

Jerry offered a “mhm” and a small nod, as if it was obvious he needed more liquor. With this, Tiff cleared her throat to see if he would look at her. She was disappointed, so they sat in silence, both of them too stubborn to converse. As he looked at everything but her, she stared straight into him. She analyzed him as if interrogating. He had been drinking and avoided her with the grace of a toddler. 

“What’s going on with you?” She asked.

“Nothing.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“Nothing’s wrong, Tiff.”

“You should just tell me the truth, before it eats you alive.”

“Fine. Tiff, you’re an hour late.”

“Not quite. Fifty-two minutes,” she laughed but soon stopped, seeing him roll his eyes. “But I understand. I’m sorry. But today was a crazy day at work. I found this box of --”

“Do you two know what you’d like to order, or do you need more time?” Charles interrupted again with the two drinks in hand.

“Some more time would be great,” she replied.

“I’ll have the Beef Wellington,” Jerry ignored her.

“Of course, sir. Ma’am, would you like more time?”

“No, it’s alright.” She snatched the menu. “I can decide in ten seconds.” She began scanning, skipping over the words she didn’t know how to pronounce.

“Ten. Nine,” Jerry added, while twirling his thumbs.

“Please stop. You’re making me nervous,” she said with a smile, to not worry their server.

“Charles, what do you recommend?” She asked.

“The lobster is a popular choice.”

“She’s allergic to shellfish,” Jerry replied for her, leaving her paralyzed with a gaping mouth.

“The pork chops are also well received,” Charles said to her, recognizing her dignity.

“I’ll go with that. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Charles took the menus and headed to the kitchen.

As soon as his back turned, Tiff leaned in and whispered, “I already apologized for being late, so I don’t understand why you continue making an ass of yourself.”

“I don’t understand how one person can love their job so much.”

“I don’t understand why you don’t have a job you love.”

“I like my job, but I don’t overwork myself and show up late to a Valentine’s Day dinner that’s been on our calendar for months because that’s how far out I had to get this reservation.” With this, Tiff became the one to look at everything but her partner. Jerry continued, “I don’t talk about dead bodies and weapons over dinner, but I’m sure that’s all you want to chat about right now. It’s probably killing you inside to think about something besides the case that’s been eating away at you for months. Honestly, I’m surprised you even made it to dinner. I should be thankful that I have even a minute of your time. Thank you so much, Detective Reynolds. How can I ever repay you for this honor?”

Just then, they heard a beeping noise. They had both heard that sound many times before. With this interruption, Jerry threw up his hands, and Tiff rushed to her waistband. She grabbed her pager and saw her captain trying to reach her. They both knew what this meant. Although her chin always remained high, her heart sank. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Just go.”

Tiff grabbed her coat and left, looking over her shoulder with every fifth step.

Then, Charles arrived with two plates of hot food. Although new aromas warmed the table, it felt empty. “Do you need anything, sir?”

“Just the check and a doggy bag.”

“Indeed, sir.” He walked away, leaving Jerry to finish his meal on his own. He hated how good the food was. As he chewed, he looked around at the couples surrounding him. Some old, others young. Despite his desire to try the pork chop, he restrained himself. She would be hungry once she got home.