Bitter Sins

Gato patted Bitter's face.

What? she muttered as she tried to push the big tuxedo cat off her chest so she could roll over and catch a few more minutes of sleep.

Claws pricked her cheek with Gato's next effort to wake her.

Ouch, ouch, okay Gato, I'm awake.

Chica crawled out from under the comforter and stood at the foot of the bed, her ears perked up. She stared at the closed bedroom door and gave a little woof.

A sharp tap on the front door, and then another, echoed down the hall. Bitter sat up and rubbed her eyes. The clock read 2:13 a.m.

When the second series of taps started, she reached for her robe. With the .32 in her hand and cell phone in her pocket, she padded down the dark hall barefoot. A dark silhouette backlit by the streetlight filled the old-fashioned window in the door. She instinctively pressed her back to the wall when she realized the porch light was out. That light was never turned off, ever.

She took a few light steps back and slipped through the kitchen door, out of the direct line of the front door, before she called, Who is it?

No one answered.

She peeked around the edge of the doorframe, heart pounding, barely in time to see a figure turn away from the door. She waited until she heard a creak from the porch steps, then slipped back across the hall, into the living room. The streetlight's rays filtered between the heavy curtains, where they didn't quite meet, and filled the center of the room with a dim light. Cautiously, she crept along the wall next to the bookcase, where the soft yellow light couldn't reach, and shadows reigned.

When the wrought iron gate slammed closed with a metallic crash, she pushed the side of the curtain over enough to see the front yard. Nothing moved outside.

Slowly, Bitter made her way back to the hall. Before she stepped into the hall, she stopped and peered around the corner at the front door. The window remained empty, but her instincts screamed at the silence.

She waited.

The minutes dragged on.

Maybe I'm being paranoid.

As she prepared herself to cross the hall again, to the kitchen, the sound of quick steps on the porch stairs filled the quiet night. A bright light flashed through the window and someone knocked.

Bitter readied the Walther. Who is it?

Bullets crashed through the window and down the hall. An instant later, the door flew open, kicked in by a dark figure. It slammed into Bitter, knocking her down. The world went black and a crushing silence descended.

----------

Bitter abruptly sat up. Chica stirred under the comforter, then snuggled deeper into the blankets. The house was silent, except for Gato's soft purring.

Bitter fumbled for the light on the nightstand with a shaking hand.

A tap on the front door.

Still caught in the throes of the nightmare, she reached for her robe and the Walther in the nightstand drawer. She closed the bedroom door, leaving Chica and Gato inside. Barefoot, she padded down the hall. Before she reached the door, she stopped. Once again, a dark figure filled the window.

The porch light was on.

She stood sideways in the darkest part of the hall, well back from the door, with her back against the wall. Who's there?

Bitter, are you all right? O'Malley's voice.

She leaned against the wall, weak-kneed with relief, pocketed the .32, and opened the door.

What are you doing out here? she asked.

I'm not sure. I thought I saw Jean creeping around the neighborhood, but when I rounded the corner, he was nowhere in sight. He looked up at the porch light. I thought I should check and make sure you're okay.

Bitter breathed a sigh of relief, Come in, if you have time, I'll turn the coffee on.

He looked back toward Señor Suarez's house before he replied, Sure, and I'll be happy for a cup of coffee.

She led the way into the kitchen and flipped on the light. With the coffee gurgling into the pot, she motioned toward a chair. Sit down. Relax for a minute.

He settled into the chair. Is your neighborhood watch captain about?

Bitter frowned. He should be asleep. He starts early to avoid the heat of the day, but not this early.

I thought he might've seen who was lurking about your garden. I've had reports of a one-armed man wandering the streets, mostly north of downtown. Bitter handed him a cup of coffee as he continued, I swear I heard your gate crash closed as I came around the corner, but no one was there.

She took the creamer out of the refrigerator and set the sugar on the table along with two spoons on a saucer. The routine helped her settle herself. As she stirred creamer and sugar into her mug, she said, I had a nightmare. I dreamed that someone was tapping at my door. The gate slammed closed. She didn't mention the rest of the dream. I woke just before you knocked.

She took the Walther out of her pocket and laid it on the table.

Still carrying that little .32, are you?

Papá gave it to me. She cracked a tiny smile, remembering his devotion to James Bond movies. With that thought, she finally sat down and sipped her coffee slowly, forcing herself to calm down.

O'Malley gave her a sharp look. Are you sure you're all right? It was a night like this when your Papá was killed.

She stood abruptly and turned her back to him, looking out the kitchen window. He couldn't see her face, not even her reflection against the darkness.

I know. This is always a hard time of year, she sighed, Mamá, ten years ago. The fiasco with Sal, eleven years ago. Papá, she choked back her emotions, and Papá. It will be fifteen years next month. She didn't mention her husband, who died a hero, but pain and loneliness leaked through her soft words.

O'Malley sat there quietly. Nothing he could say would drive away Bitter's memories―and the dark shadows that gathered around the edges of the room.

She pushed away the anger and sadness that haunted her dreams. More coffee?

Please.

After she filled O'Malley's cup, she topped off her own mug and changed the subject, How is Kathleen? Better?

He sighed, As good as she ever gets. The meds help, but I have to make sure she takes them every day.

Bipolar disease is never easy, Bitter said softly. It's hard on her too.

O'Malley finished his coffee. When Morales shot Sally, I think it pushed Kathleen over the edge. She's better now, but Sally calls her every night to make sure she's all right. He gave Bitter a sideways look. She's still not too happy with you. She keeps complaining about her ribs, where you hit her with the stun gun.

Bitter shrugged. She had a baseball bat. So, did you get your house fixed?

He gave a short laugh, Don't talk to me about contractors. It's almost done, finally, but I had to threaten to call the Contractors Licensing Board before the general contractor finally got the subcontractors out there to finish the job. He shook his head ruefully. I started wondering if it would've been better to let it burn down.

And how is Aiden?

Pride glowed on O'Malley's face. He's doing well. Aced his exams last spring, so he focused on working out all summer. They're in preseason now. And he's excited that Kenny will be out on the football field with him this fall.

The radio crackled. O'Malley stood and put his cup in the sink. You'll be okay?

Bitter forced a smile. I'll be fine. I'll read for a while before I go back to sleep.

Stay safe. Lock the door behind me.

She bristled a little at his words. As if I need to be told, she thought.

He started for the door as the radio sputtered again. Bitter could hear the dispatcher―something about a peeping Tom trapped on a roof by a vicious dog.

Thanks for the coffee. Gotta go. O'Malley said over his shoulder before the door closed. Boots clattered down the steps and the gate clanged as he dashed to his unit. He waited until he was around the corner and down the street before the lights and siren filled the night.

----------

Dawn lit the eastern sky when Bitter started a fresh pot of coffee. Sleep had eluded her for an hour or more, but she'd finally fallen into a deep dreamless sleep. When the alarm went off, she'd hit the snooze button twice before she got up.

Chica yapped at the back door.

Oh, you want back in? Bitter opened the door and let Chica into the kitchen. A little too cool outside this morning?

The tiny Chi looked up and yipped twice before diving into the doggie bed under the table. She snuggled under the tattered fleece blanket with a huff of satisfaction.

The coffee pot gurgled as the last drops fell into the carafe. The warm smell wafted through the kitchen as Bitter poured herself a cup and added the fixings. Before she sat down at the table, she opened the door, this time for Gato. He strolled in and sniffed disdainfully at the food dish before joining Chica in the plush bed.

Bitter glanced at the clock on the wall, then turned the TV on. Weather, sports, politics―eventually the news cycled back to breaking stories.

In other news, the mayor announced that the police department budget will receive additional funding to update the security cameras and electronics in its main offices. The murder of dispatcher Cattee Candy Soto spurred the release of the reserve funds…

A jab at the remote muted the sound. Finally, she muttered in disgust, the city had the funding all along, they just needed a murder to spur them into actually coughing it up.

She allowed herself a moment of sorrow for the young dispatcher whose life had been cut short in a stairwell. Did Morales suggest the chaga tea to Candy? He knew it could kill me, she wondered aloud, not for the first time. She set the thought aside with a deep sigh, I guess we'll never know.

While the newscaster continued the story in animated silence, she sipped her coffee and looked out at the pink and blue sky. The nightmare lingered, but she pushed it back, refusing to examine the details.

The flickering screen caught her attention. She unmuted the TV in time to see O'Malley muscling a bald, naked man, with a strategically placed black circle obscuring his lower torso, toward the waiting emergency medical technicians. Though blood covered half his face and trickled down one hairy white leg, he struggled until O'Malley and another officer managed to secure him to the gurney.

Officers were able to secure the homeowner's rat terrier before removing the alleged peeping Tom from the roof of the Midtown―

He's lucky it was a small dog, she told Chica as she muted the sound again. A bigger dog could've caused a lot more damage. Though they did take him to the hospital, so those bites might've been worse than they looked.

Chica peeked out from under the blanket and gave an inquiring woof.

Bitter looked at the clock.

Time to get ready for work.

----------

Bitter pulled her apple green Maverick into the space next to Sally's bright yellow Mustang. As she got out of her car, she noticed that Sally was still sitting in the driver's seat. She tapped on the window. Are you all right?

Sally jumped a little, startled, and rolled down the window. I was just texting Kenny before I went inside. Wait a minute, I'll walk in with you.

The brisk morning breeze cut through Bitter's black slacks. Fall is already on its way, she thought as she shivered. It's early this year.

The Mustang's door swung open. Sally climbed out and hugged Bitter. Thank you.

I was just doing my job, Bitter replied, uncomfortable with Sally's gratitude.

You saved my life. And I am so glad to be back at work. She smiled brightly. I need to get my office back in order.

Bitter led the way to the outer door. She slowed her pace when she realized that Sally still moved a bit stiffly. How are you feeling?

Well, I'm doing much better, Sally turned to show herself off, and I've finally lost that weight the doctor's been nagging me about for the last 15 years.

Hell of a way to lose it, Bitter muttered, not quietly enough, as she swiped her key card.

Sally lost a little of her sparkle.

Bitter turned aside to let Sally swipe her own card and saw Sally's dejected face. Horrified at the callous remark that had slipped out, she quickly apologized, I'm so sorry, Sally, that was wrong of me. I don't know what I was thinking―

No, Bitter, you're right, it is a hell of a way to lose weight. Sally pasted her smile back on as she swiped her key card. But the main thing is that we made it through. After my daughter died, her smile faded a little, and I took custody of Kenny, I had to learn to take life one day at a time. I've made a lot of mistakes, but I'm happy to be alive.

Bitter thought of Papá and the nightmares that still haunted her sleep. Her face grew pensive.

Sally mistook Bitter's expression as regret for the gaffe. She patted Bitter's shoulder. We all make mistakes, Bitter. It's okay. And besides, Kathleen was helping me while I was recovering and she's all into healthy eating―salads, veggies, and no sugar―so it's not like I had a choice. She hooked her arm through Bitter's and practically dragged the smaller woman into the building. Believe me, every day that you get out of bed is a good day.

O'Malley stood waiting in the hall, blocking the path to the elevator. He waved the women into the break room. This way.

Surprise! The shout filled the entire first floor and spilled through the open door into the main lobby. Sally's coworkers, dispatchers, and blues filled the room, with the Chief waiting in front of the crowd.

Chief Brown stepped forward and hugged Sally. Welcome back, Sally, he said with a broad smile.

Bitter faded into the background as quickly as she could as a wave of office staff and officers surrounded Sally. She glanced toward the coffee urn but it was surrounded by a crowd of older blues.

She started to turn back toward Sally when Sapp materialized from the mob. Coffee? he asked as he handed Bitter a mug, properly lightened and sweetened.

She took the cup and gave him a relieved look. Thank you. I wasn't sure I could make my way through that crowd.

Ah, the perils of being the shortest cop in the room, Sapp teased gently. But I didn't get you a donut. I wasn't sure what kind you like.

Thank you, but I don't do gut-bombs. Too much fat, too many calories.

Ayyyy, Bitter, O'Malley said behind her. He looked at Sapp. She's never been one for donuts. He shook his head sadly. How can you be a proper copper if you don't like donuts, especially Krispy Kremes?

Bitter tisked at him, "I still fit in my dress uniform. And I prefer sweet potato pie or bibingka. That's a Filipino coconut cake."

Sapp looked at the donut in his hand and made a face. "I'd rather have bibingka, too. He looked hopefully at Bitter. Maybe you can bring a cake over for Sunday dinner at Gema's? We're grilling tri-tip―"

She gave him a suspicious look. We'll see.

He grinned at her. Don't worry. It's only family this time. No surprises.

Mrs. Mitchell?

Oh, well, he gave her a mischievous look, yes. Mrs. Mitchell and a couple of the neighbors. Her great-grandson is staying with her for a while, and he and the boys play on the same hockey team. The boys invited him for dinner. We can't leave her out.

They invited Aiden and Kenny, too, O'Malley said. I hope they mentioned it.

Of course, they didn't, Sapp huffed. I'll let Gema know. Are you and Kathleen coming too?

Not Kathleen. She has plans to go shopping at the Vacaville outlets. She and Sally are planning on breaking the bank at the Labor Day sales. It'll just be the boys and me.

No black pudding this time, warned Sapp.

No, I'll bring my grandmother's soda bread, piping hot from the oven.

What's wrong with black pudding? It's a blood sausage. Pork, right? asked Bitter.

Sapp and O'Malley looked at each other and burst out laughing.

You'll have to ask Gema. Sapp finally choked out, wiping away tears of laughter, I'm not telling.

The crowd thinned as blues and dispatchers left, leaving empty donut boxes scattered on the tables and full trash cans in their wake. Sally and the Chief had already gone upstairs with Judy, the temp who had filled in for Sally over the last two months while she recovered from her gunshot wound.

Bitter finished her coffee. Crime waits for no one, she declared, and I'd better get upstairs. I need to clear my caseload. The holiday weekend is coming and if it follows the usual pattern, I'll be busy all weekend.

Double shifts and overtime for everyone, O'Malley chuckled, and Kathleen is planning to spend it before I earn it. Luckily, I'm off on Sunday afternoon―so far anyway.

Bitter looked up at the two men. Well, if I'm not out on an investigation, I'll be there. What time?

Try to be there by one, if you can, and we'll be eating about three or so. And if Julio and Liz and the boys show up on your doorstep, or you talk to them before the weekend, bring them along. He gave her a sly wink. And if you have time to make lumpia―

I'll see what I can do.

By the way, he added hastily, Mom wants to know what you put in the lumpia. It was so good that Dad has been pestering her to fix it your way.

Oh, Bitter gave him a conspiratorial smile as she answered, ground turkey and lamb mixed together, sautéed in butter until they're about half cooked. Then, I add the usual ingredients: garlic, green onion, cabbage, carrots, ginger, soy sauce, and a dash of lemon pepper.

He grinned back. She said it wasn't pork, or turkey by itself, so she'll be happy to hear that she was right. Thank you.

Bitter winked at him. Sometimes I mix ground beef and turkey. I just happened to have lamb that day.

But no pork? Sapp laughed as O'Malley stacked the last of the empty donut boxes next to the trash can, ready for the janitor to pick up later. He ticked off the list in an imaginary notebook, No donuts, no pork, no mushrooms. Right?

Right.

She gave him a smile and a nod as she washed and dried the mug. He took it from her hand and put it on a top shelf in the cupboard, safe from careless rookies and the occasional earthquake. She left the two officers in the break room, still joking about Irish food.

What is it about black pudding? I'll have to get the story from Gema.

Chapter 2 – Still Monday

The folders on Bitter's desk lay in three piles: Current Cases, Ready for Court, and Storage. She picked up the folders from Candy's case and put them into a records box. No trial needed, she thought sadly, Time to put this case to bed.

She added the odds and ends, including the evidence bag holding the blood-stained envelope with her name written on it, complete with a little heart dotting the i, put the lid on the box, and attached the label. It joined the stack of boxes in the corner, ready for pickup.

As she reached for the next set of files, the phone rang.

Bitter.

The Chief wants to see you, Sally said, as soon as possible.

Bitter looked at her desk and held back a sigh. Sure. I can come up now.

See you in a few minutes.

She carefully locked her office door before she turned toward the emergency exit. Stairs are good for you, she said out loud as she opened the steel fire door. The stairwell sported a fresh coat of pale blue paint and someone, probably Tom the janitor, had scrubbed the metal handrail to a gleaming shine. As she slowly climbed the stairs, the hum of the fluorescent light and a lone fly combined into a soft echoing background buzz that melded with her footsteps.

The door to Sally's domain was open. Judy, the temp, rolled a cart filled with paper out to the shred bins. Oh, she squeaked, startled at Bitter's appearance in the hall, I didn't hear the elevator.

I took the stairs.

Judy looked down the hall and shuddered. I won't miss this job. It's too creepy for me.

Bitter gave her a thoughtful look. Didn't you do tours in the underground city at your last job?

Yeah, but that was different. I didn't know any of the dead people who live there.

Before Bitter could ask Judy who she thought was haunting the building, Sally bustled out of the Chief's office. Bitter, come in. I have fresh coffee with the fixings. Get a cup while the Chief finishes this phone call.

Thank you, Sally, Bitter said gratefully. The last time she'd visited the Chief's office, the stench of burnt coffee filled the air. Today, the freshly brewed coffee tasted as good as it smelled. She added a pinch more sugar to her cup before she settled into the chair next to Sally's desk.

Sally poured herself a cup and sat down.

No fixings? asked Bitter. Sally had always enjoyed her coffee with a generous tablespoon or two of sugar and creamer.

Not anymore. I don't plan to gain that weight back. Sally smiled brightly as she sipped the dark brew. Kathleen was right. Cut back on sugar and walk or swim every day and I'll keep it off. And since I lost weight, my heartburn is better, too. She glanced at the phone. Oh, it looks like the Chief is off the phone. Let me see if he's ready to see you.

Bitter topped off her coffee and, with a guilty glance at Sally's back, added more creamer and sugar to her cup.

Bitter, come in. The Chief's cheery greeting raised her suspicions.

What does he want me to do this time?

Sit down, sit down.

Reluctantly, Bitter sat in the worn chair next to the Chief's desk. She cradled her coffee and waited.

He started to smile, but it faded to a pensive, thoughtful look. Bitter, I was talking to my friend about the talk that you gave at the high school back in June.

That presentation? How did he find out about it?

The video.

Bitter gave him a puzzled look. What video?

Well, apparently one of the techs and the lead teacher in the program, Davidson, took videos. They pieced it together for Davidson's class. And, he paused, knowing that Bitter would object, Davidson is a friend of my friend and sent him a copy of the video.

She frowned at him suspiciously before she asked, And?

Well, my friend is chair of the Criminal Justice department at Las Vegas University―

Oh no, I never want to go to Las Vegas again. Bitter stood abruptly, spilling her coffee. She grabbed some tissues from the Chief's desk and dabbed at her slacks.

He hit the intercom, Sally, could you grab some paper towels, please? We spilled some coffee.

Armed with paper towels and a spray bottle of cleaner, Sally waved off Bitter's attempt to help and quickly wiped up the coffee. As she blotted up the liquid, she blurted out, Chief, I told you she wouldn't go. And it's cruel to even ask.

Sally, the Chief tried to interrupt.

She wasn't having it.

I don't know how you could even think that Bitter would go back to Las Vegas after her last trip there. She almost died, no thanks to anyone in this department. Nobody even questioned that Bitter, of all people, brought back some man she met in Vegas. The Chief opened his mouth, but Sally stormed on, And then he poisoned her. If it wasn't for O'Malley, the only officer with good sense who responded to the 9-1-1 call, one of these idiots would've let that man back into her house. Her Mamá and the boys would've been all alone with no protection from that murdering bastard.

Bitter laid a hand on Sally's arm, but Sally wasn't done yet.

The nerve of you and your buddies, to expect her to go back to Sin City for a presentation that will just make all of you look good. What good will it do her? Except dredge up old pain and memories? Maybe she'd like to leave that bit of her life in the past.

Sally shook off Bitter's restraining hand and flounced out of the office. The door slammed hard enough to rattle the double-pane windows, and the boom of the hall door followed a few seconds later.

Bitter stared after her. Sally was the calm hand that kept the Chief's office running smoothly despite all interruptions. After a moment of stunned silence, she looked at the Chief. He held up one hand, his face filled with guilt. She's right, Bitter. I have no right to ask you to go. We failed you eleven years ago. I failed you. He shook his head. To ask you to return to the scene of the crime, even after all these years―

Despite her first reaction to the mere thought of going to Las Vegas, her sense of duty kicked in. Let me think about it. I can't hide from the past forever.

No, Bitter, I'll call him back and tell him that you aren't available.

When did he want me to do this?

If it was possible, the Chief looked even guiltier. Friday. Fly in Thursday night, fly out Saturday morning. In and out, fully paid, with two nights at that new casino and hotel, the Kalahari.

It's Monday. When did he ask you?

An hour ago.

She stalked to the door, jerked it open, and went into the outer office. Judy turned, and at the look on Bitter's face, choked down the perky remark that nearly escaped her lips.

Bitter fixed herself another cup of coffee and went back into the Chief's office. She sat down and took a calming sip before she asked, Okay, what happened?

Bitter?

Most university professors have every class planned well in advance, especially the first week of classes. For the chair of the department to call in a favor, she held up a hand to stop the Chief when he started to speak, to call in a favor, something bad has happened and he's scrambling. What happened?

I can't discuss his personnel matters―

Bitter huffed impatiently. Jail, hospital, or suspended?

I can't tell you. The corner of the Chief's mouth quirked up. But I'm sure that if it hasn't made the news, you can find it trending on social media.

That bad, huh?

I'm afraid so.

He raised himself from his chair as she stood up.

Have Sally call me after lunch, Bitter said quietly, recalling the nightmare that kept her up half the night. I'll think about it. Maybe I need to lay some demons to rest.

He gave her one quick nod. She didn't offer her hand. He stood, silent, as she left. The hall seemed longer and dimmer as she walked