And now Durand had screwed him up.
After a moment's reflection, he decided to call it square. He'd acted like a jerk in the car, grilling Durand about Tiffany Marie. So let Durand get away with this. Besides, it was just as well. Durand would have wanted to know what he was talking about to the cabby, and that wouldn't have done at all. It had been hard enough to get the rest of the tip from Ed without him getting suspicious. Well, actually Ed probably was suspicious.
He let Durand pick up the tab and leave a tip, and even followed him out to the car. He was still trying to think of some way to let Durand know he knew he'd been out of line. He called in on the radio to let it be known he and Durand were back on the streets.He'd about decided he'd have to apologize, and was thinking of the right words when the dispatcher saved him. She acknowledged their call, then added in an almost human voice, "Three messages for Stepovich to phone Jennie Edwards at his earliest convenience."
Edwards. Jennie Edwards. Somehow it had really hurt him that she'd gone back to using her maiden name. And made a big point of notifying all their friends. Like she didn't want to keep the least little scrap of their life together. "Be a second or two," he grunted at Durand as he got back out of the car.
There was a pay phone at the rear of the diner,outside the restroom doors. He dialed her work number, dumped in a quarter when she answered. "You wanted me to call you," he told her without preamble. No hello, how are you, what's up, just get right to the message. This was how they did it now.
"Yeah. It's about Laurie…"
"She okay?" He cut in, visualizing hospitals, kidnappers, car wrecks, rapists.
"She's fine." Impatience at his fear in Jennie's voice. "And that's just the trouble, really. Since school started this year, she's been running with the wrong crowd. Faster kids, kids older than her. Some of them are driving, for Christ's sake. She's come in past midnight the last two nights, and I'm sure I smelt liquor on her breath. And the clothes she's wearing…"
"Hold on. Wait a sec." Something wasn't adding here. His Laurie was what, thirteen, no, fifteen? And into frilly blouses for square-dancing for the PTA, for God's sake, not staying out until midnight with older kids with cars. "What the hell are you letting her run around like that for, Jennie? And how is she dressing weird? Where the hell is she getting the money for all this?"
"From you, and don't think I don't know about it!Sneaking around, sending her extra checks behind my back! How do you think it makes Jeffery feel, when he finds out daddy sends big sister thirty extra bucks to blow and nothing for him? Not to mention what it does for my authority when she goes out and buys spandex leopard-spot pants without even asking me."
Spandex. What the hell was spandex? Whatever it was, it didn't sound like something Laurie should be wearing. "Jennie. Wait a minute. She phoned me up and told me she needed money for a blouse for a square-dancing program…"
"And you believe that? Without even checking with me? And you just sit down and write the check, because mean old mommy won't buy her a blouse? Michael, get real!"
The phone was getting slippery in his grip. Durand had come in and was leaning on the counter, talking to Tiffany Marie. They were both watching him, he knew it, taking quick little glances like he was a pimp under surveillance or something. He turned his back on them so they couldn't see his face, and turned back into Jennie's ranting.
"… maybe shoplifting. She was wearing these earrings, very pretty and very expensive-looking, and when I asked her about it, she said she just found them. And she gets this look on her face, I swear, it just makes me want to slap it off there. And that cheap little snot Chrissy that she's always running around with, she smirks and says, 'Just consider it a gift from the Lady, Ms. Edwards.' "
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Stepovich demanded.
"You tell me! Unless she's some drug pusher or into child pornography or something. Chrissy drops that name all the time, like it's some secret club or something and-"
"Look," Mike cut in. "It's obvious we have to talk. All of us. I'll come over tonight as soon as I'm off shift, and-"
"Oh, no. No way. I talked to her counselor at school, and Ms. Simmons said the worst possible thing would be for a male authority figure to suddenly descend and try to take control of Laurie's life. This "Lady" thing may be a sort of reaching toward womanhood-"
"For Christ's sake," Stepovich butted in, annoyed at her parroting the counselors at him, but Jennie talked right over him, her voice just getting more insistent.
"-that the girls are doing, a redefining of themselves as women rather than children. And Ms. Simmons says that while it does need to be talked about,it needs to be talked about in a nonthreatening atmosphere."
"Well, if Ms. Simmons has all the fucking answers,what the fuck are you calling me for?" He was mindful of where he was and that Durand might overhear him. So each furious word came out in a stiff separate whisper, though they wanted to burst from his chest in a scream. Every six months or so, Jennie seemed to find a new way to do this to him. He was Laurie's father, damnit, he had a right to know, he had a right to help, to be there for her. And now she was telling him that he'd hurt Laurie if he "interfered" by talking to her. His throat squeezed shut and he couldn't get anymore words out.
"I should have known you'd react that way. Listen, Michael, I don't buy everything this counselor says either. And we both know, real well, that you have big problems with believing that any woman can know more about something than you do. But I'm willing to listen to Ms. Simmons if it will help Laurie. So anyway, I'll tell you why I called you. Because Ms.Simmons knows of a women and girls encounter therapy group that she feels could help Laurie. But it's expensive, and my health plan doesn't cover it.All I want to know is if yours will. If the police insurance doesn't have some clause for family counseling,it should, all the families that your police work breaks up and destroys."
"I don't know." Little lead words. "Call Bewie at the services number. You've got my policy number.Ask her. Even though she's a woman, she knows more about the cop insurance stuff than I do."
"And that's all? Call Bewie. Don't you give a damn at all about your daughter?"
"You've already told me you don't want me to come over and talk to her. So what the hell can I do?"He couldn't contain his voice.
"Oh, forget it! I'm sorry I asked. I'll check with Bewie. I'm sorry you called at all."
"Yeah. Me, too." He slammed the receiver down on its hook. He looked over his shoulder and both Durand and Tiffany Marie looked hastily away. Durand said something to her, and she shook her head slightly, not a denial but a commiseration. Stepovich took a deep breath and turned and strode out past them. "Durand. Let's go," he said, and ignored Tiffany's timorous, "You take care now, Mike."
The afternoon passed. That was all he could say for it. Passed the same way time passes for a ball in a pinball machine. Hit the bumpers, light the lights,make the buzzers, but at the end of the play it falls through the flapper gates, and not a damn thing is really changed, not the ball nor the buzzers or lights. It's just time for a different ball to set them off. Neither he nor Durand spoke much, but the tension was different now, it was Durand keeping quiet because he didn't want to set Stepovich off, not keeping quiet to spite him. In an odd way Stepovich was grateful for that.
So when he had finished typing the nineteenth report up, he looked up at Durand and said, "I was out of line, earlier today."
"Yeah. You were. Well, let's forget it," said Durand, and in that moment they were as close to being real partners as they'd ever come.
Stepovich thought about that, driving home. Durand was doing better, no doubt about that. Sometimes, anyway. But a real partner would have noticed that Stepovich hadn't changed out of his uniform after shift, and wondered why. And a real partner would have told the kid that he was going to do a little after-hours rousting, and invited him along. Shut up, he told himself, and agreed with himself.