18. Debrief At Breakfast

Brampton was feeling good as he drove to Rosy’s Diner to meet Kathy. It was their routine to meet for breakfast and compare notes, and he looked forward to it. Kathy brought new insights and perspective to the facts. He often thought she’d make a good cop if she could stand the discipline. He smiled as he turned into the parking lot. Today he had information that would blow her socks off.

“Howdy,” he called to Lucy the morning waitress as he slid into their regular booth by the wall. They never sat at the window, too many distractions, too many people they knew walking by.

The diner hadn’t changed much in all the time he’d been eating there. He doubted it had changed much since it opened in 1949. The tables were black and white flecked Formica but he remembered when they were battered old wood, burnished by decades of diners’ elbows. He missed the scars and the wobbly hearts, the I Love You’s and phone numbers carved into them. Five years ago, Rosy had them refinished. The retro Formica was a nod to their past, but all those sweet emotions were invisible now, hidden beneath the plastic.

Kathy arrived dressed business stylish as always. She slipped out of her jacket before shimmying across the bench seat opposite him. She smiled and squeezed his hand briefly. It was always briefly.

“You doing, okay?”

“Couldn’t be better.”

As Lucy approached to take their orders, she wondered, not for the first time, just what was their relationship. Sometimes they were relaxed and smiling, sometimes deadly serious. She wouldn’t see them for months at a time, and then they’d come in regularly, sometimes twice a week, and have breakfast together, deep in discussion. She was sure they were more than business friends, but she rarely saw them touch, let alone hug or kiss.

“Scrambled eggs, bacon, fried tomatoes and brown toast for me please,” he said briskly and smacked the menu down.

“I’ll have an egg white omelet with mushrooms, brown toast and tea, if you please,” said Kathy without looking at the menu. Lucy jotted down the orders, smiled and stole a glance at Kathy’s left hand ring finger before walking away.

“So how are you really doing?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she said, emphasizing the last word and doing a little jazz hands.

“Really?” he pressed. “It’s only a couple of days since a woman died in your lap. That’ll leave a bruise on anyone, so, I’ll ask again, how are you really doing?”

Kathy relented, reached across and touched his hand again. Lucy had her back turned and missed it. “All things considered, I’m doing okay,” she said. “I sometimes think if I’d stopped there sooner maybe I could have prevented it, but then I realize I wouldn’t have stopped because I wouldn’t have seen the jewel in the bushes. I wouldn’t have noticed the open door. I don’t think I could have helped in any way,” her voice broke. “I suppose maybe it was meant to be.”

Images from that day passed through her mind. She blinked to stop the parade and brought her eyes back to Brampton.

Concern was etched on his face and he fought the urge to take her hands in his. Instead, he smiled and shrugged.

“How did your meeting with Grant Ashbury go?”