Love with the Proper Killer Short Story Valentine Mystery by Rose Deshaw
Love with the Proper Killer
by Rose Deshaw
Page 3 of 7
"You're home early." Mac was just getting into the elevator
when I stepped out.
"Not soon enough." I started to brush past him.
"I was thinking, well, maybe this isn't a good time," Mac
hesitated. "I was just going down to the diner on the corner for a
burger. But I suppose you've eaten?"
"I'd love to," I made a quick decision and it wasn't till we
were sitting in a back booth over coffee that I realized how I must
look with my pantyhose flapping around my ankles. Mac hadn't even
snickered.
He was good company. Mac worked as a property manager, he
said. Our building was on his list. I had to admit it was well-kept
up. He didn't have any pets, a real plus and he did have a lot of
funny stories about tenants who had them, that kept me laughing.
"This large woman sat on her Chihuahua ..." he began and I
watched the corners of his eyes crinkle like Mrs. Patrickson's did.
He was wearing a yellow sweater over a white shirt, very
collegiate. Our waitress came and he joked with her and left a big
tip.
I'd almost forgotten about the horrible start to the evening
when Mac walked me back to the lobby. "I'll be fine," I told him
when it looked as though he was going to come on up.
"You sure? See you again soon, then. It's been... terrific."
When I reached my apartment there were no keys in my purse. I
thought back to the bag falling open in Jerry's apartment. Oh well.
I ran down the stairs to Mr. Masterson, the superintendent. Mac was
still there, talking.
"I can let you in. Just take a minute." Mac took a ring of
master keys from a hook near the door.
"No, its fine. Mr. Masterson has had to do this lots of
times".
"I wouldn't take losing your keys lightly, Donna," Mac
frowned. "With all these attacks on women in this area, lately. I
think we'd better have your locks changed. In the meantime, you can
borrow the master."
Jerry called at the end of the week to say how much he missed
me. "It was my fault," he said. "I should have prepared you for
meeting him. Fitzhugh was mistreated as a kitten so it's hard for
him to trust."
"Me too," I said.
"I thought he'd be familiar with you by now. I've taken him on
all our dates."
"What?? You and me and Fitzhugh?"
"He's been in the backseat. In his cat carrier," he said
hastily. "It gets lonely in the apartment and I don't like to leave
him overnight. I take him with me everywhere. So I thought he'd
sort of know you already. I'm sorry. Please let me pay for having
your shoes repaired."
"No need," I lied, looking at the toe of one pump protruding
from the trash I'd been about to take to the incinerator when he
called.
"Show you forgive me and let me take you to dinner tomorrow.
It's Valentine's Day, after all," he said with a plea in his voice. He named
a restaurant I'd been dying to try but not alone. "At seven?"
"All right," I said, hating myself for being weak. There was
something about the man. "By the way, Jerry, did you find a set of
keys after I left?"
"No," he said. He sounded truthful. "Were they important?"
"Nothing special. See you tomorrow."
