This is a short story in The Underworld Vents series. The main project under The Underworld Vents umbrella, the novel 3 Lives in Jury, can be found here: Three Lives of Jury
Photo by Aron Visuals on Unsplash
The light from his LED Torch 7000 headlamp, fastened to a strap he wore around his head, provided more than enough light to see the stones he bashed his knees on seconds before he went down.
Frank Kappens crashed to the ground, rolled about 10 metres downhill and swore.
Fuck, she better be worth this, he thought. He rose, rubbed his knee while he peered uphill. This mission was giving him far more trouble than expected. It was an easy position to achieve, really, little more than a stroll. He just needed to reach the top of the small hill overlooking those backyards.
The hill was rocky and jagged, and almost never trodden over because of crevasses that snatched at ankles and threatened broken legs. There were no reliable records of the hill ever swallowing a human, but there were tales to scare children clear. Dogs and cats had reportedly been taken by mammoth snakes that knotted and slunk through the cracks below the surface. Stories Frank was too old for.
For Christ’s sakes, it’s only a climb of 20 metres. Get with it Frank, he scolded himself. His chest felt clear, his cystic fibrosis was calm, under control for now and the only thing stopping his climb was his own caution.
Push, push, he said to himself as he started uphill again.
On the second effort, it took only a few minutes to reach the top. He stood on the rock overhang at the summit, which overlooked the backyards of four houses directly across a narrow alleyway. One of them, the one farthest to the left, belonged to his new coworker, Julie.
What’s her game? He replayed the day, filtering through everything, searching for motives. Why was she being so nice? She must be interested in him. He had impressed her and now she was curious to learn more. Frank saw no other possibility.
Julie was a full-time dispatcher at the Gold Rush police station and she’d taken Frank under her wing on his first day as a dispatcher trainee. She stayed next to him, showed him the equipment and how it worked, helped him fill in the employment forms, showed him how to file to the province for his certification when the time came, and even took him out for lunch where they talked about special tricks and hints Frank would need to better perform the job.
Why would she do this for him if she wasn’t feeling the itch? Frank thought.
He needed to check her out, find out all there was to know and if she seemed his type, he might ask her out on a date. But first, she had to pass the Frank Background Test, he joked.
With this new dispatcher job at the police station, Frank almost believed life was working out, finally. From a young age, he had studied criminology and psychology alongside his psychiatrist mother as she worked her way through university and later practiced from her office near their home. While his mother steered into the coves of depression, domestic abuse and the like, Frank pored over books on murderous minds, serial killer motives and their origin stories.
Given time, Frank had no doubt he’d be sitting in the criminal profiler’s chair at the police station, not caring that a town the size of Gold Rush barely had enough chairs for patrol cops.
From his hilltop position, he could see Julie’s place. A blue and white bungalow behind a white fence. The garage was in the back too, so now he knew she parked back here, and he filed that information away for later.
He was surprised at how close he was standing to her yard. The hill rose sharply from the edge of the alleyway. It loomed over the house and would keep the south-looking backyard in the shade for most of the day.
He spied a shadowy figure moving on the other side of the blinds inside the house. It had to be her. He imagined she might be setting out clothes for tomorrow, or drawing a bath.
His mind spun back to their lunch earlier today. Frank had almost asked her out on a date right then as they walked back to the station. At the last second, he thought better of it. He needed more collaborating data.
If everything went OK for the rest of the week, maybe he’d ask her out Friday. He had three days.
The next day unfolded similar to the first, except that Julie spent more time tending to her own work, leaving Frank to fend for himself more often. But she was never far from his side.
A few calls came in that required attention, but together, they handled them. It was the day shift and this was Gold Rush, population 50,000. The city had a drug problem that far outweighed its slight population, but otherwise, not much happened in the light of day.
That night, Frank clamoured up the hill again, being especially careful at the spot where he fell the last time.
She was there. Julie stood before sliding glass doors leading from the dining area, as though she was attempting to see something in the backyard.
The house went dark. Frank waited to see if the lights would come on again but when they didn’t, he departed, gliding on air all the way home, happy as a sandboy.
Julie acted strange the next day. She raised her chin and looked down her nose at Frank, as though peering through inscrutable fog.
She’s got a lot on her plate today, Frank imagined. Too busy to be holding my hand, but it’s fine. We’ll talk later.
She left for lunch with a police officer Frank didn’t know, except that he worked at the station, too.
After lunch, Julie was affable again and she demonstrated for Frank the correct way to answer and direct incoming calls, part of the duties he’d assume once he completed his psychological testing and sensitivity training, which he would be thrown into the following week.
She explained that she would work beside him for the next few weeks to help him out, and then he’d be assigned to take the next available sessions in Nor Loch or Vancouver to gain his certification.
Frank nodded and drank her in.
That night, the third night, Frank climbed the hill once more. He knew he wasn’t seeing much of her from up here, but it was more about what he didn’t see. No strangers or strange cars coming and going. She appeared single. No neighbours who liked to work outside who might see him if he approached closer. She had no dogs or other noisy pets.
It all seemed in order. Tomorrow was Friday. Take the plunge or not? He’d see. He’d see.
When Frank reached the top of the hill, all lights in the house were out. The house sat dark. It was too early for Julie to be in bed, Frank thought. Maybe she went out. He thought about where she’d go. If she’d gone out for dinner, she’d probably be back by now, if dinner was her only motivation for being out. Frank admitted to himself he was a poor judge of this, since he preferred to eat earlier than most people.
He was jolted back to the real world by the grating sound of the garage door opening. Julie came running out from the light behind the door toward the hill.
Frank slid off the back of the overhang, bumping and bruising his backside and legs all the way to the bottom.
Shit, the light. He’d forgotten about the light on his forehead. He clicked it off and sprinted into the tall grass between the hill and the highway.
He heard footsteps, Julie’s footsteps clattering over rocks, but they were distant. She was still working her way around the bottom of the hill, not anticipating someone as fast as he was. He patted himself on the back, and duck-walked away from the hill, coming out of the tall grass in the ditch next to the highway. His heart vibrated. The escape was exhilarating.
He stuck to the ditch for a distance, until he estimated he was far enough away, and then cut back onto city streets and made his way home.
The next day was Friday at last, but Julie had turned cold. She greeted Frank matter-of-factly. Her voice lacked the warmth Frank had felt radiating from it before.
He figured she could not have seen enough of him last night to make a 100 percent positive ID, so he’d play it cool and it would pass.
His theory was proven right and the day passed without confrontation. However, he also had only scant contact with Julie. Oh well, he sighed. Guess I’ll wait another week and see.
He headed for the exit at the end of his shift, when Julie rushed over and asked him to join her for coffee.
Frank’s heart jumped, his jaw dropped. She wanted to have coffee with me. That settled it. She is hot for my ass, he thought.
There was a chance that she was luring him to a place where she planned to confront him about last night, but he had to risk it.
They got their drinks and settled down at a large round table, far too big for the two of them, but it was the only table available.
“Thanks for coming Frank. You know I wanted to ask you about something.” Julie sipped on her latté.
Uh-oh, Frank thought. “What’s that?” he said.
“OK, I’m just going to go ahead and blurt it out,” she said.
“Fine.” Frank bit into his cookie.
“Do you still know Lucy Kloot? I realize it was a long time ago, must be 10 years ago now, when you two were friends and were caught up in that horrible Mud Valley tragedy. But have you stayed in touch?”
Frank looked back at her, bewildered.
Julie mistook Frank’s silence as a signal to go on. “It’s just that, you know, I thought if you had an ‘in’ with her, I might get an appointment. She’s become quite the spiritual healer across the lake. But you’ve got to show up and wait in line to see her. People camp at the hot springs over there and wait for days just for a quick consultation. I thought maybe you could get me in.”
When Frank didn’t answer, Julie pushed her chair away from the table. “I’m sorry. If it’s inappropriate, or if you don’t know her anymore, that’s fine. I was just taking a shot in the dark, you know, desperate times, desperate measures and all that.”
Frank nodded. He’d heard of Lucy’s success at a trailer park near some hot springs on the far side of Lake Charity. He had always meant to check into it.
“We’ve lost touch,” he told Julie. “Nothing I can do.”
“Ah, OK. Well, I just thought I’d try. You OK?”
Frank nodded.
Julie pushed her chair back in as though to settle in for a while longer. To leave now would be rude. It would seem like all she wanted was for Frank to get her in to see Lucy Kloot, which was true, but Julie thought she should at least attempt to pretend otherwise.
Frank perked up. He noticed things like a chair moved in closer to the table.
They chatted about other people around the station for a few minutes until the talk landed on constable Simon Nelson.
“He’s so fucking adorable. I gush every time he passes,” Julie said, squinting across at Frank. “Don’t you think so?”
What? Frank almost fell off his chair. She thinks I’m gay? What gave her that idea?
“Umm, not exactly,” he said. “I’m not gay. Although, I wonder sometimes if dealing with men would be easier.”
Julie laughed at the joke, not seeing how it might apply to their present situation. “Oh, OK. I’m not sure why I thought you were gay. It’s OK if you are, you know.”
“But I’m not.”
“Sure, sure. But do you think you could put in a good word for me with Simon? I mean, not that you guys are buddies or anything; you just started at the station, right? But just if you ever get a chance at coffee break or in the bathroom or something?”
Frank rolled his eyes. “Sure.”
For the next 15 minutes, Frank’s mind failed to register another complete sentence out of Julie’s mouth. He couldn’t concentrate. It was a calculated move Julie had pulled off, assigning him to the friend zone and then making damn sure she left no doubt.
He excused himself before too long and walked home alone next to a creek channelled through a concrete chute in the city’s downtown, and as he crossed a small arch for a bridge, the smells of the early evening, the day’s algae and sulphur, wafted up from the creek below.