Overstep Himself

 

 

Trevor walked up the front sidewalk and stopped next to Riley, breathing in the citrus scent of her. Not perfume, he was sure, more like soap, or shampoo. Just a touch, and just enough to make his hormones want to control the show.

“I’ll wait here if you want to go and get Richie for me,” he said, standing in her foyer.

“No problem.” She walked past him, then turned and climbed the stairs. He was trying to look around at her place, see what was being done, but he was blocked off for the most part by walls.

He didn’t have long to wait, with Richie walking briskly down the stairs. “It’s those hooligans down the street. I’m telling you, Trevor,” Richie said.

“Now, Mr. Sanders.” He’d be respectful to his elders, even if they didn’t show him respect and address him as chief of police. He’d learned the hard way that some things didn’t matter in the scheme of life, and this was one of them. “We don’t know that for sure. Why don’t you tell me exactly what happened?”

“I’ll tell you what happened,” Richie said. “It’s parents nowadays. No one disciplines their kids anymore and then they turn from hooligans into pricks that go around stealing. Timeouts don’t do crap to a kid. A whack on the butt is what they need.”

Trevor felt his lips twitch, but held back as he pulled out his pad to take notes. “Just the facts for now, Mr. Sanders.”

“Fine,” Richie said, crossing his arms. “I got home at five fifteen like I do every night, pulled into the driveway, got out, and went in the house. Had dinner with Melody at six, like we always do. Watched our shows and were in bed by nine. I got up at six this morning, had my coffee and my cereal, showered, and left the house by seven. Got here at seven fifteen, fifteen minutes earlier than normal. Then I—”

“That’s a lot of facts and more than I needed,” Trevor said, having just written down arrived home at five fifteen and left at seven the next morning. “Did you hear any noises last night? Anyone outside your house? Did you lock your truck when you got out?”

“No to them all. I don’t need to lock my truck in my own driveway. What’s this town coming to? Do you know what caused all these problems?” Richie asked, lifting his eyebrow.

Trevor sighed, not wanting to hear about 1980 again. “What did you notice was missing and when?” he said.

Richie crossed his arms in front of his stained overalls that were probably purchased in 1980. “About an hour ago, I went out to my truck to get my tile cutter out of the back and it wasn’t there. My grout mixer is missing too,” he said.

“That’s it? Two things?” Trevor asked, finding it strange that two things that went together were missing and nothing else. “Are you sure you didn’t take them out or leave them at another job?”

“Why would I take them out?” Richie said. “I’m laying tile here. And I only work on one job at a time. No, someone stole them. I’m telling you, it’s them kids down the street.”

Trevor closed his pad and put it in his pocket with his pen. “I’ll look into it and get back to you on anything I can find. Let me know if they show up, though.”

“Hey, Dad,” Bryan Sanders said, opening the door behind them. “What’s going on? I was surprised to see all the cars here. Hey, Chief.”

At least Bryan addressed him properly when needed. “Your father is reporting some stolen tools.”

“Really?” Bryan said. “What’s missing?”

“My tile cutter and grout mixer,” Richie said gruffly.

Bryan laughed. “They’re in my truck. I came here to drop them back off to you just now. Mom didn’t tell you that I stopped to get them last night after dinner?”

Richie turned, his face red. “No, your mother never said a word. Sorry about that, Trevor. Didn’t mean to take up your time.”

Trevor shook his head, not surprised it turned out the way it had. “No worries. It got me away from the paperwork. I’ll just get out of your way.”

“I’m blocking you in the driveway,” Bryan said. “Actually, so is Riley, so you’re stuck for a few minutes.”

“I’ll just wait.”

Trevor stood there while both the Sanders men went outside, then he turned and saw Riley standing at the top of the stairs watching him. She’d probably watched the whole circus for the past few minutes too.

“That was some entertainment,” she said, walking down and stopping in front of him.

“Just another day in the life of the Lake Placid Chief of Police.”

“Guess you don’t need to hunt down those hooligans or the parents that only put them in timeout?”

Gosh, she sure was pretty when she flirted. “Nope. Would have been the highlight of my week too.”

“What, having me pull your wisdom tooth wasn’t a highlight? I sure am hurt over that.”

He grinned. “It was a highlight, but not one I’d care to repeat.”

She laughed at him. “Since you’re stuck while the two of them bicker out there, would you like a tour of my house? I noticed you angling your head around trying to get a peek.”

Observant again. He liked that about her. “Sure, why not? We could be a few minutes while the two of them go on about how embarrassed Richie is right now.”

“They’re a nice team. Doing great work here. I’d like it done faster, but I can’t complain. I mean he has a life too, has to be home to have dinner with his wife by six.”

“Every night for the past forty years,” Trevor said, smirking at her.

“Well, come this way to the back of the house.”

He followed behind her, and noticed all the hardwood floors gleaming. “New floors, or just get them refinished?”

“Refinished,” she said. “I like the light color, but they were scratched in some places.”

“Couldn’t have been too bad. These townhouses are less than five years old.”

“Not bad. They had a dog though, so you could see marks from their nails.”

He nodded, sort of understanding, but then again, that wouldn’t have bothered him too much. Scratches on the floors gave a home character. When he got to her kitchen he realized there wasn’t any character at all. It was white. All white. Everything. Cabinets, counters, walls.

“I think I need my sunglasses in here,” he said.

She laughed. “It’s not that bad.”

He lifted an eyebrow at her. “Really?”

She sighed. “Okay, maybe the walls need some color. But the previous owner painted every room white before they listed it. I guess they wanted it to look fresh. On one hand it’s nice, on the other, it’s hard for me to figure out a color.”

“And the counters and cabinets?”

“Cabinets are original, countertops are new. They were black and I didn’t care for them. Plus, I’ve got a germ thing, so I wanted them new.”

“Germ thing?” What the hell was that?

“Yeah. I don’t know how neat or clean the previous owners were, so I had the counters all replaced in the house, the bathrooms all retiled, and new vanities too.”

He wanted to laugh, but felt it would be unwise. “Did you get new toilets too?” he asked, joking.

She blushed and looked away. “Yeah.”

Now he did laugh. “You make a living sticking your face and hands in and around people’s mouths and you’re worried about germs from a house that looks spotless.”

“Crazy, I know, but there you are. Stop laughing at me and follow me through the rest of the house if you want. Or we can just leave and go listen to them arguing in my driveway.”

He reached out and tugged on a lock of her hair playfully, but she flinched, making him pause. Did he overstep himself? Probably.

“Sorry about that. Guess I just got lost in the moment.” He didn’t think he was reading her wrong, but obviously he was.

“No problem. It took me by surprise. Come on, I’ll show you the rest of the place.”

But it was a problem. He hadn’t wanted to make her uncomfortable.

They went through the downstairs living room, dining room and office. All nice gleaming floors and white walls. The half bath had new tiles, a new toilet, and vanity. Again, it was white. Upstairs was more of the same. Every room looked no different than the next. The bathrooms at least had some colored glass tiles partially set in them, giving them a bit of character.

“You have no plans on painting anything?” he asked. The stark whiteness would drive him insane.

“I want to. I just can’t decide. I was going to talk to them about it today. I’d like them to paint before they finish up. They’re almost done.”

“You really want to ask Richie for color choices?”

“No. Probably not. He’s a bit old in his thinking. I’d be better off asking my brother or his wife for some help.”

“I’m sure Quinn is a better choice than Max,” he said.

“You know my brother?” she asked, showing some surprise on her face.

“We’ve met,” Trevor said, keeping it simple. He wasn’t sure how much information about that incident was known from a few years ago.

“When their house was broken into?” she asked him.

“Yeah.”

“You’re probably right. Max’s house was pretty plain when he moved in. Quinn put some nice touches on it. Still, I should figure out some colors. I better get some samples soon.”

They turned when Bryan walked in, followed by his father. “Sorry, that took longer than we thought. I moved my truck out of the driveway. Riley just needs to move hers and then we can let you leave, Chief.”

“I’ll go do that now so the chief can leave.” She turned to the Sanders men. “I’d like to talk to you about painting all these rooms before you finish,” Riley said.

“Just get us the paint colors,” Richie said. “If you have them to us in two days, we can get the house done by this weekend. Otherwise the longer it takes you to decide, the longer it will be to get done. We’ve got another job lined up next week.”

Trevor looked over and saw her pause. Torn, for sure. He wasn’t sure if it was the testy response from Richie, or the fact she had to make a fast decision. “Yeah, I’ll try to decide tonight and let you know tomorrow. I’d like to be able to start moving in this weekend, for sure.”

Richie nodded his head and walked away from her, Bryan laughing. “Sorry about that,” he said, then followed behind his father.

“Guess you’re all set to leave now, if you just want to move your vehicle,” Trevor said.

“Sure,” she said, moving ahead of him.

He wasn’t watching her tiny rear swish in front of him at all.