I went up the steps, almost pretending to not notice the two officers. They both watched me wondering when to interrupt my daily routine. The older one was graying at the temples, a little over-weight. His partner was young, early twenties, and looked like a social worker. Maybe Jeff should have hired him.
Half out of my own amusement, and half because sarcasm has become a natural reflex for me, I smirked at them both. “Let me guess. You have a warrant for Jeff’s arrest, and you’ve come to sweep him away to a lifetime of prison and bad shower scenes?”
They both stared at me, the younger one, whose name I would soon learn to be Randy, looked like he may die of shock. His partner just flipped through his little tablet scanning for something then looked up at me. “Kathleen Marter?”
“It’s Kathy, and Marter is my mother’s last name. My last name is Hart. Second marriages cause that kind of confusion.” I unlocked the door and stepped inside turning to the two of them. They both looked confused and a bit frustrated by now. I sighed. “Well since you’re obviously not going to grant my wish and take Jeff away, I suppose you’d like to come in and have a talk with me?”
They both nodded and walked inside. Randy nervously thanked me as he walked by. I turned to them both and motioned with my hands toward the kitchen. “Right this way gentlemen.” They followed obediently; obviously I haven’t done anything wrong. Or I have and they just think I might lead them towards donuts. I started to laugh at my own joke.
“Miss Hart, I’m Officer Chuck, and this is Officer Randy.” Randy nodded politely at the mention of his name. “We’re here about your parents, Susan and Jeff Marter.”
“Oh, they’re probably drunk on the floor at a bar somewhere. It’s Friday night, they do that.” I shrugged and grabbed a glass out of the cabinet. Then tossed my jacket on the counter. “Do either of you want anything?”
The two men exchanged a glance and shook their heads in unison. Randy decided to pitch in and add to the conversation. “Kathy, I don’t think you understand. Your parents have been in an accident.”
That should have put me into a panic, but I was used to Jeff driving home drunk. He was constantly complaining about the cost of insurance because he was in so many accidents they practically considered him a liability to the company by now.
“Yeah, well what do you expect happens when people fall off the barstools to go home?” I was still being sarcastic and somewhat uninterested in the conversation. Randy took a step back, returning the ball to Chuck’s side of the field.
“Miss Hart, this is very serious. Your parents didn’t survive the accident.” Chuck said the last sentence quietly; losing that bit of professional edge he was trying to keep so badly by calling me miss.
I turned to face them both again. “What did you say?”
All works on this page were written by and under copywrite to Krystal Hicks 2002.