"Because You Just Can't Trust Cops"
Nine Months Ago in Manhattan; 1998
"Why are you here, Officer—” Emma Post struggled to remember his name.
“Dennis,” he answered awkwardly, police hat in hand as he shuffled nervously from one foot to the other. “But you can just call me Dennis.”
“That’s right,” Emma remembered. “You were one of the cops who interviewed me a few months ago, after my two best friends were murdered.”
The last time Officer Dennis had paid a visit to Emma’s apartment complex, it was to help investigate the murder of a singer named Clarissa Sauer, and her art model friend and actress, Ursula Gorky.
Not much had changed since he’d last visited… she still occupied the same bland-white studio apartment with noticeably low ceilings, cracked tile, and an efficiency kitchen that melded into the bedroom. Frankly, while Officer Dennis’ digs were not that much bigger, he had to admit to himself that his living arrangement was far better.
What had changed, however, was Emma Post’s hair. He remembered. The last time, it had been a short brown-haired cut that curled under once it reached her shoulders, coupled with a few blonde streaks through it. He smiled to himself. While she still retained the same athletic look today, she had obviously bleached her hair blonde and had it permed. Officer Dennis decided she looked just as pretty both ways. He even thought that her plain gray hooded sweatshirt and jeans, with no makeup on, suited her.
“Yes.” Officer Dennis glanced sheepishly at the floor. “I guess I just wanted to see how you were getting on… er… seeing how you lost two people who were close to you.”
“That seems highly uncustomary for a police officer, doesn’t it?” Emma answered. She had let him in her apartment, nonetheless, and Officer Dennis’ husky frame took up an enormously large amount of space, made evident when he sat on a small metal chair with a tiny plastic seat that was one of Emma’s two kitchen seats. They looked as if they once were used in an elementary school classroom… they probably had been.
Officer Dennis thought a moment, as he shifted his weight uncomfortably in the chair. “How would you know that?” he asked curiously. “I mean, what makes you think it’s uncustomary?”
“It just seems like a nice thing to do and —”
“Cops aren’t nice?” Officer Dennis finished.
“Your words, not mine,” Emma answered flatly. While Officer
Dennis sat, she began unpacking the groceries she had procured just prior to his arrival. She paused for a moment as she put a carton of milk, eggs, and fresh vegetables into her refrigerator. Emma let out a sigh. “The truth is, I’ve been better. It’s like there’s this giant hole in my heart. And sometimes—” she paused at the door and looked over at Officer Dennis. “I forget they’re gone, like when I get good news I want to share or feel like catching a movie. I pick up the phone like old times and then it hits me. I’ve no one to call.”
She closed the door of the refrigerator. Then, as if remembering, “You want some coffee or juice or anything?”
“Nah, I’m good,” Officer Dennis answered. “Thanks, though.”
Emma returned to the kitchen counter and reached into a second paper bag, pulling out two pink candles, a round rose quartz stone, and what looked like a small bag of dried rose petals. The name on the bag read, ‘Elementals Magickal Gift Shop.’
“You know,” Officer Dennis suggested, “I wouldn’t be opposed to catching a movie with you sometime.” He coughed slightly. “Just so you wouldn’t have to go alone and all.” He eyed the objects Emma was holding curiously.
Emma blushed. “They’re for a money spell,” she lied, disappearing behind the large accordion screen that separated the kitchen from the bedroom. Officer Dennis couldn’t see much into the room, but it appeared as if she placed them on a little table that sat low to the floor. On it, was what looked like an incense burner, several gemstones and a small gold ring. He couldn’t see what else was there.
“Officer Dennis—” Emma called from behind the screen. “Er… Dennis.” She peered around it like a curious cat. “Were you just asking me out?”
“Well, that depends” He grinned cautiously. “If you were accepting, then definitely yes. If you weren’t, then definitely not.”
“Hmm.” Emma returned to the kitchen and hoisted herself up onto the counter, sitting with her legs dangling below her as she rested her hands on each side of her hips. “What did you have in mind?” She eyed him suspiciously.
“Well, there’s a really great steakhouse near the movie theater on—”
“I’m a vegetarian,” she interrupted, pursing her lips distastefully.
“Oh.” Dennis recoiled slightly. He wasn’t entirely sure what vegetarians actually ate, mind you. He assumed a lot of lettuce. But he was quick on his feet. “Well, there’s a nice vegetarian Japanese restaurant in Midtown that we could try… at least, I think it’s good. I’ve never been there.”
“And the movie?” Emma asked. “What would we see?”
“Anything you like, really.” Dennis sat up optimistically. “A romantic comedy, a foreign flick—”
“What makes you think I want to see either of those?” she challenged. “Because I’m a woman?”
“Fine, an action movie?”
“Too violent.”
“A drama?” Dennis tried again.
“Too depressing.” Emma bit back a laugh. It was then that Dennis realized that Emma Post was having a little too much fun messing with him.
“You know, Emma,” he said, leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Your love spell might work better if you don’t shoot down every guy you meet.” Emma’s face dropped.
“What? How did you?” She glanced toward the altar in the bedroom and back at Dennis.
“My little sister, Rose, got herself kicked out of Catholic school on account of practicing witchcraft.” Dennis laughed at the memory. “My folks were fit to be tied, the only one out of the six of us to have to go to public school.” For some reason, Dennis thought this was hilarious.
The color drained from Emma’s face. “So you’re—”
“Roman Catholic, yes,” he confirmed.
“And you’re one of six—”
“Kids,” he nodded, finishing for her.
“Officer Dennis,” Emma began, suddenly appearing woozy.
Dennis sat upright. Her reverting to addressing him by title set off alarm bells in his head. He had pushed too hard and said too much. “I really don’t think you and I would make a good match at all.”
“Well, I wasn’t asking for your hand in marriage or anything. Just a dinner between friends.”
“We’re not friends,” Emma scowled, sliding off the counter and standing. “It was really nice of you to check in on me, but —” She moved toward the front door and held her hand on the doorknob leading out of her apartment.
Dennis stood. “So, you’re going to shoot me down because my family is Roman Catholic?”
“Do you have any idea what the Catholic Church did to Wiccans throughout history?”
“Not really,” Dennis confessed. “But I can tell by your expression that it wasn’t good.”
“No, Dennis,” she answered anxiously. “It wasn’t good. They were tortured and brutally murdered—”
“But I wasn’t there then,” Dennis pleaded. “And I hardly ever set foot in a church… except for Christmas and Easter.”
Emma sighed again, this time more loudly. Dennis was quite a bit taller than she was and a little chunkier around the middle. He obviously didn’t exercise regularly and probably visited that steakhouse he mentioned a bit too much. From what she could tell, he was also several years younger than her. Honestly, Emma wouldn’t have given him a second glance if she passed him on the street. And yet, after two brief encounters, she sensed there was something really… sweet… about him.
“How old are you, Dennis?” She eyed him curiously.
He knew where this was going. “What does that matter?” he answered defensively. “How old are you?”
“None of your business,” she retorted. Then she remembered, she told him her age the last time she met, when he and Detective Ortega, his boss, were investigating the murder of her two friends. “Thirty-six,” she finally answered.
“Well, I’m thirty-one. Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way—”
“Officer Dennis, I have been nothing but difficult since the time you arrived. Why on Earth are you so set on taking me out on a date?”
“Well,” he thought about this. “You just seem really put together is all.”
Emma’s face became flushed. “What do you mean ‘put together’? You mean my body?!”
“No, no,” he tried again, holding his police hat in his hands and rotating it awkwardly in a circle. “I mean, as an overall person. You seem to know what you’re about. You’re obviously smart and independent and… will I get tossed out on my ear if I tell you I think you’re kinda cute?” Dennis turned his head away, glancing sideways sheepishly. Emma smiled despite her attempts to be as disagreeable as possible.
“If I’m remembering correctly,” Dennis cleared his throat, “the last time I was here, you told Detective Ortega that you, and I quote, ‘have terrible taste in men.’”
“Yes,” Emma nodded. “That is true.”
“Well, have you ever thought of going against the grain — trying someone different?”
“Like you, you mean?”
Dennis nodded. “Yes, I’m an omnivore who comes from a long line of Catholics. I’m a little younger than you and am obviously not as athletic as you are. And… drum roll please… I also happen to be a cop, which you hate. In fact, I’m probably the last person on Earth who would be considered your ‘type’.” Dennis put the word ‘type’ in air quotes. “And yet I’m asking you, Emma Post, will you go on a date with me?”
Emma couldn’t recall the last time anyone made that much of a fuss over her and couldn’t believe he hadn’t given up at the start. He was definitely a determined young fella, that was for sure. Finally, she smiled. “Okay, Officer Dennis. I will go out with you. Vegetarian Japanese food, then? With a movie to be determined?”
“Perfect,” Dennis smiled back, placing his police cap on his head. Emma cringed a little out of habit, but quickly recovered. He reached into his shirt pocket and procured a small pen and notepad. He scribbled a note, peeled off the slip of paper, and handed it to her. “Here’s my number. How does Saturday at 6:30-ish sound? I can meet you here and we can catch a cab together?”
Emma opened the door for him, reaching out to take the paper. She smiled with the tiniest glimmer of hope. “Saturday at 6:30-ish,” she agreed. “See you then.”
She closed the door behind him and leaned against the door, glancing at the note, wondering if this was a good thing or the biggest mistake of her life.
