The Comic

Chapter 6

Parker stood in his kitchen and looked up through the ground level window at the clouds in a pale blue sky. He sipped the last of his coffee and rinsed the mug in the sink. A stiffness had settled in his lower back and he wasn't sure whether it was from diving away from the car last night or sleeping in his chair.

He went back into the living room and grabbed up his phone book, perusing it for a Desdemona Jones. He had the address but there were pages of Jones' so he flopped down and began a slow trace. He found the address but not under her name; it was a Monica Jones and he wondered about that. Parker tossed the book aside and dialed the number.

"Hello." Sleepy and slow.

"Des? It's uh, Parker."

"Parker? How'd you get this number?"

"Good morning to you as well. I checked the phone book. Who's Monica?"

"What do you want, Parker? What time is it anyway?" There was a sound of rustling and thumping and then he heard a low groan. "Seven? Really, Parker? Seven in the morning?"

"I'm calling because I thought you should know I was nearly killed after I left you last night."

"Entertaining pedestrians?" The line went dead.

******

Desdemona hung up slowly and stared at the carpet in front of her. Parker's warning might not be without merit if his story was true. She stood and walked to the bathroom. Was it? A quick detour to the phone and she dialed the number on the card she'd left on the table.

"Homicide, Detective Holt."

"This is Desdemona Jones, from the other night."

"Yes, Miss Jones. What can I do for you?" She went through Parker's story and sagged against the wall when Holt confirmed it.

"We even found the car last night. Our people are going over it right now."

"Parker suggested that I might be in some danger since we were together last night and that this person, since he followed Parker, would also know where I lived."

"Actually he might have a point. He went home with you last night?"

"He walked me to my door, Detective." She replied testily.

"Sorry, bad phrasing. I know where he was, I just meant−"

"It's all right." She paused. "So what do you think I should do?"

"Is there someplace else you can stay for a bit? There's really nothing I can do without proof of some specific threat. We don't even know who this person might be yet."

"So I need to be in actual distress before you can help."

"Look, Miss Jones−"

"Thanks, Detective." She hung up and swore, heading back to the bathroom.

Calmed, dressed and fed, Des called Parker's cell, and over his objections, arranged a meeting with him at the same bar they were at the previous night.

******

"I'm sorry about the crack on the phone."

"Yeah, okay. Whatever. He followed us from here the other night you know." Parker said as they sat in the same booth and ordered coffees.

"These people know us, Parker and I feel safe with them around."

"They don't know me."

"Okay then you sit here and worry."

"Hey, it wasn't you he tried to run down; this wasn't my fault."

"I didn't say it was your fault, Parker; but I'm blaming you."

"Oh well then..." He slouched back in the booth and looked at her.

Gordie stopped by the booth with more coffee and with a glance at Parker he did a quick about face and left. Des fidgeted with her mug and closed her eyes.

"Look, Parker, I'm sorry okay. I know you aren't to blame and I appreciate your calling me and showing concern for my safety . . . I called Holt." Parker sat up. "He said they found the car and hoped to learn who the driver was."

"What did he say about me?"

"When I told him you called he seemed impressed . . . I don't know . . . " She shrugged and pushed the mug away. "The thing is he suggested I stay someplace else for a while."

"Does he believe you're in danger?"

"It would seem so, Parker." She shook her head.

"You have someplace to stay?"

"No." Her eyes flicked briefly to his and away.

"I wonder if I should think of moving out for a while."

He caught the look on her face and felt his neck heat. "Uh, I'm sorry, Des. That was kinda selfish thinking. I'd love to say stay with me but, well . . ."

"Parker, never miss a good chance to shut up, okay?" Gordie arrived in time to save him from further embarrassment, refilling the mugs and dropping the bill on the table.

"Is that a hint?" he asked as the waiter left.

"I gave him a sign." she said, opening her purse.

"Hey, I got it." Parker sat up, digging for his wallet.

"No, I have." She placed some money on the bill and began sliding out of the booth.

"There are two theories about arguing with women. Neither one works." He followed her out of the booth and out of the bar.

A drizzling rain had started and the sidewalks were already darker in colour as was the sky above. Des checked her watch and stepped into a doorway, taking out her phone. Parker edged in beside her and waited silently while she listened for an answer.

"Damn."

"No answer?"

"No," she looked at the date on her watch. "I bet it's disconnected for vacation and I don't have another contact number."

"Let me guess, a place you might have stayed for a while."

"You win a cigar, Parker."

"Don't smoke but I do machinate." He shrugged his head down into his collar from the rain.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm devious... when it's called for. If your friend is away on vacation, what better place to hide out? Nobody would know you were there."

"You mean just break in and make myself at home."

Parker shrugged again and smiled innocently. "Maybe I could help you and you would let me stay too . . . for a while."

Des stepped out of the doorway and headed back up the street toward the bus stop. "In your dreams, Parker."

He sighed and watched her go, muttering to himself. "That's happened lately."