“I have nothing more to say to you,” Josie replied. “We’re done.”
“Okay. Please stay here. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Des got out of her cruiser and hopped into the back of the EMT van, where the Jewett girls were bandaging the wound on Casey’s forehead.
“How are you feeling, Casey?”
“I’m fine,” he grunted.
“It’s just a superficial wound,” Madge informed her. “His pupils are normal and responsive to light. He has no dizziness or nausea.”
“I’m fine,” he repeated, this time with a whiny, hostile edge to his voice.
Casey Zander happened to be a whiny, hostile guy. Also an immature one. He was twenty-eight going on fourteen, a petulant, overgrown fat boy with a jowly face, a weak chin and a sulky, almost girlish rosebud mouth. He dyed his hair a garish henna color and wore it in a peculiarly retro Meet the Beatles mop top, complete with bangs that he combed down almost to his close-set eyes. The dye job contrasted starkly with his dark brown sideburns. He was dressed in a he-guy plaid wool shirt and corduroy pants. The shirt didn’t flatter him. Fat boys should never do plaid. It also didn’t go along with his transgendery do. Des really, really didn’t know what was up with that hair.
“Would you like me to notify your next of kin for you?” Des asked him. “That would be your mom, right?”
Casey tensed visibly. “Why do you need to call her?”
“You’ve suffered a head wound. Maybe you shouldn’t be driving home.”
“I’m not a kid.…”
“Didn’t say you were.”
“And I don’t want you calling my mom, bitch.”
Des raised an eyebrow at Madge and Mary. “What did he just call me?”
“I believe he called you a bitch,” Mary replied tartly.
“He is one fierce customer,” Madge chimed in. “Better watch out.”
“Would you ladies excuse us for a sec?” Des asked them.
The sisters left them alone in the back of the ambulance.
“Want to tell me what was going on in there, Casey?”
“What did Josie say?” he demanded, fingering his bandaged forehead.
“I’m more interested in what you have to say.”
He shrugged, his girlish mouth tightening. “We were having our regular weekly session. She’s been trying to help me with-with…”
“With what, Casey?”
“I don’t want to talk about it!”
“Has anybody ever told you that whiny never scores cool points? Women don’t like to be around whiners-unless you’re paying them to be with you.”
“Look, you just shut up,” Casey shot back. “You don’t know anything about Josie and me.”
“So school me.”
“It’s none of your damned business.”
“Actually, it is my business, Casey. Bryce Peck took his own life this morning, but Josie wouldn’t stay home to mourn his loss. She told me she had a client who needed her. That client would seem to be you.”
He blinked at her in shock. “I–I didn’t know. She didn’t say a word.”
“Pretty good deal for you. The field’s clear now.”
“Field?” He shook his mop top at her. “What field?”
“We’re all adults here. If you and Josie have been getting busy behind Bryce’s back that’s your business. And if you two like it rough, well, so be it. Not my thing at all, let me tell you. Any man used his fists on me he’d be picking his teeth up out of the carpet for a week. Josie’s had a real bad morning. She’s upset. She’s vulnerable. I’m wondering if I should be worried about her. You know her a lot better than I do. What do you think?”
Casey considered his answer carefully. “I think she’ll be fine. I’ll take care of her. I–I love her.”
“Have you told her that?”
“Not exactly, but she knows how I feel. I mean, she must know.”
“And what about Gigi Garanski? I hear you date her.”
He let out a derisive snort. “You don’t ‘date’ Gigi.”
“Just use her for sex, you mean?”
“I’m not the only one who does,” he said defensively. “But it’s Josie who I want to be with. Josie’s … She’s wonderful.”
Des studied this man-boy curiously. He was definitely bizarre, but what flavor of bizarre? Harmless or the other kind? “Okay, Casey. Thanks for your insight. I appreciate it.” She hopped out and found Madge and Mary jawing in the snow with a couple of firefighters. “Is he okay to drive home?”
“I don’t see why not,” Madge replied. “Assuming he can dig out his car.”
“Casey’s a real catch, isn’t he?” Mary said. “It’s a shame he doesn’t find himself a nice girl.”
Des looked over at Josie Cantro, who was still sitting in the front seat of the Crown Vic nursing her swollen eye. “The boy’s way ahead of you, Mary. He thinks he has.”
Dorset’s Post Office was located in a squat, brick-faced building that was plunked down all by itself in the same shopping center that was home to the A amp;P and to the local branch of First Niagara Bank, which had formerly been the local branch of New Alliance Bank and before that New Haven Savings Bank. Des thought that a side from the flagpole out front, the Post Office bore a remarkable resemblance to a Friendly’s family restaurant.
She parked her cruiser out front and strode inside, allowing herself a sigh. She’d already seen a week’s worth of action and it wasn’t even 11:00 A.M. Days like this required stamina. Not the physical kind, which she had in abundance. The emotional kind. If she wasn’t careful she could lose her patience with people. The public didn’t care for snappish behavior from its sworn personnel. Especially sworn personnel who happened to be women of color.
There was a mud rug on the floor just inside the door of the vestibule. Flyers were tacked to a bulletin board there for the upcoming Dorset High production of Fiddler on the Roof. Inside the lobby, which was painted pea-soup green, a tinny sound system was playing Christmas carols. Tinsel was draped here, there, everywhere. But thanks to the blizzard there wasn’t the usual crush of holiday customers waiting in line to send off presents. No customers waiting in line, period. There wasn’t even anyone behind the counter. Billie, the counter clerk, had left a hand-lettered sign there that read, “I’m out back. Holler.”
Des didn’t have to holler. The postmaster’s office had a window that overlooked the parking lot. Paulette came right out of her office to escort Des in. The village’s mail carriers hadn’t left on their routes yet. Des could hear them out in back, joking with each other while they finished their sorting.
“Casey just phoned me,” Paulette stated stiffly as she led Des into her small, spare office. There was a desk. There was a safe that was almost as big as the desk. There were no personal flourishes of any kind. No photos or Christmas cards. No invitation to sit down, either. “He was extremely upset. It seems he’s had quite an ordeal.”
“He has indeed. He got a cut on his head but he’s okay.”
“Did I hear him right? Kylie slammed her car into Josie’s office?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Tina and Lem have had nothing but trouble with that little airhead. She’s so irresponsible.” Paulette raised her chin at Des. “Casey told me you were extremely abrupt with him.”
“I’m sorry if he felt that way, but it was an emergency situation. Kylie suffered a serious injury. The building was in danger of collapsing. I had no time for kid gloves.”
Paulette studied Des, her eyes crinkling. “And you had a job to do. I understand. Casey can be a bit thin-skinned sometimes. Hank thinks I babied him too much. He has trouble sticking to things. Gives up too easily when someone says no to him. And then gets all down on himself. I’m hoping Josie can help him find some direction. She sure worked wonders with Hank. Hank was a heavy smoker for thirty years. He quit when his doctor warned him that he was in the early stages of emphysema. But then he had some personal setbacks and before we knew it he was reaching for the nearest Marlboro. Josie helped him kick the habit again. Hank thinks she’s a miracle worker. Mind you, we knew Casey would flat-out reject the idea. So we had to be a bit devious. Josie arranged to ‘accidentally’ bump into him at the flu clinic back in October. He’s been seeing her ever since.”