How does a young guy spend time around here anyway? You never seem to be hungover, so I’m guessing you’re not that type.”
“No,” he said.
“Come on,” Bishop prodded. “Give me something. I’m almost a half century. God, that sounds bad. My free time is spent at basketball games, ballet recitals, chores—did I say ballet recitals?”
Hackett laughed.
“It’s my duty to live vicariously through my good-looking, young partner who’s probably swinging from chandeliers. I mean, look at you!”
Hackett laughed. “Hardly. You’d be so disappointed.”
“You got a girl?”
“No.”
“And your family’s in Indiana?”
“Yeah. Chesterton. I haven’t seen them in a while.”
“Well, I guess that’ll change soon.”
“What do you mean?”
“Christmas.”
“Oh right, yeah, maybe.” Maybe. His mom had left several messages, and he knew it might make things worse if he didn’t go, but everyone else was much better at pretending the family hadn’t been irreparably damaged. And he didn’t want anyone looking at him like he was some wounded bird. He couldn’t stand their pity.
“Well, we need to solve this case ASAP.”
“What’s the rush?”
“It’s just shitty timing.”
“Christmas?”
“That and I’m on double duty right now. Sandy’s mom is in the hospital again. Doesn’t look good.”
“What is it?”
“Cancer. She’s battled it for years, but looks like the fight is about over. Sandy won’t leave her side, sure she’s going to go any minute, so she’s up in St. Joe night and day.”
“That’s tough.”
“Yeah, and don’t get me wrong, I love my mother-in-law and I know it would be shitty to lose a parent, but I’ve never been in charge at Christmas. She’s leaving it up to me to make the magic happen.”
“How old are your kids?”
“Fifteen, thirteen, eleven, and nine.”
“Wow, that’s a brood. At least they’re older, right?”
Bishop shook his head. “You have no idea how hard it is to shop for these kids. The older ones understand that because of Grandma, it’s not a great year, but Paige, my nine-year-old, is still talking about Santa. Last night she asked me to download this app on my phone that tracks his movements so we’ll know exactly when he’s getting close to Michigan on Christmas Eve.”
“They have that?”
“Oh yeah. And the older ones just want electronics: PlayStations, Wiis, Xbox. Lucky for my boy, I enjoy a game or two. But those iPods, iPads, iPhones—I hate that frickin’ i company. They need to stop marketing expensive shit to my kids.”
Hackett smirked at his tirade.
“I say no to everything,” Bishop added with a grin, “but nothing makes you feel like more of a failure than disappointed kids on Christmas morning.”
Hackett’s thoughts went to Donny, opening up his gifts on Christmas, probably the first one he’d understand. Beaming as he ripped through wrapping paper, content to play in an empty cardboard box—and Hackett wouldn’t see any of it.
“Well, you’re a chatty Cathy, aren’t you?” Bishop said.
“Sorry.” His thoughts were now stuck on Christmas, on how every future Christmas would bring nothing but dread.
They drove another twenty minutes in silence. As Bishop turned onto Shawnee Road toward the center of town, he smacked the steering wheel to break Hackett’s spell. “Okay, I got another quote for ya.”
“Hit me.”
“Now, this is a classic. Everyone in the world has seen this movie.”
“Okay.”
In his most strained voice, as if he could barely get out the words, Bishop said, “I got no place else to go. I got no place else to go! I got nothin’ else.”
Hackett grinned, watching him mug for a few seconds before giving up. “I got no idea.”
Bishop’s tone was now deeper and gruff. “Oh, come on, May-o-nnaise.”
“What?”
Bishop continued in his best imitation of the unnamed actor, throwing at him some insulting remarks about Oklahoma.
“This is all the
“No,” he said.
“Come on,” Bishop prodded. “Give me something. I’m almost a half century. God, that sounds bad. My free time is spent at basketball games, ballet recitals, chores—did I say ballet recitals?”
Hackett laughed.
“It’s my duty to live vicariously through my good-looking, young partner who’s probably swinging from chandeliers. I mean, look at you!”
Hackett laughed. “Hardly. You’d be so disappointed.”
“You got a girl?”
“No.”
“And your family’s in Indiana?”
“Yeah. Chesterton. I haven’t seen them in a while.”
“Well, I guess that’ll change soon.”
“What do you mean?”
“Christmas.”
“Oh right, yeah, maybe.” Maybe. His mom had left several messages, and he knew it might make things worse if he didn’t go, but everyone else was much better at pretending the family hadn’t been irreparably damaged. And he didn’t want anyone looking at him like he was some wounded bird. He couldn’t stand their pity.
“Well, we need to solve this case ASAP.”
“What’s the rush?”
“It’s just shitty timing.”
“Christmas?”
“That and I’m on double duty right now. Sandy’s mom is in the hospital again. Doesn’t look good.”
“What is it?”
“Cancer. She’s battled it for years, but looks like the fight is about over. Sandy won’t leave her side, sure she’s going to go any minute, so she’s up in St. Joe night and day.”
“That’s tough.”
“Yeah, and don’t get me wrong, I love my mother-in-law and I know it would be shitty to lose a parent, but I’ve never been in charge at Christmas. She’s leaving it up to me to make the magic happen.”
“How old are your kids?”
“Fifteen, thirteen, eleven, and nine.”
“Wow, that’s a brood. At least they’re older, right?”
Bishop shook his head. “You have no idea how hard it is to shop for these kids. The older ones understand that because of Grandma, it’s not a great year, but Paige, my nine-year-old, is still talking about Santa. Last night she asked me to download this app on my phone that tracks his movements so we’ll know exactly when he’s getting close to Michigan on Christmas Eve.”
“They have that?”
“Oh yeah. And the older ones just want electronics: PlayStations, Wiis, Xbox. Lucky for my boy, I enjoy a game or two. But those iPods, iPads, iPhones—I hate that frickin’ i company. They need to stop marketing expensive shit to my kids.”
Hackett smirked at his tirade.
“I say no to everything,” Bishop added with a grin, “but nothing makes you feel like more of a failure than disappointed kids on Christmas morning.”
Hackett’s thoughts went to Donny, opening up his gifts on Christmas, probably the first one he’d understand. Beaming as he ripped through wrapping paper, content to play in an empty cardboard box—and Hackett wouldn’t see any of it.
“Well, you’re a chatty Cathy, aren’t you?” Bishop said.
“Sorry.” His thoughts were now stuck on Christmas, on how every future Christmas would bring nothing but dread.
They drove another twenty minutes in silence. As Bishop turned onto Shawnee Road toward the center of town, he smacked the steering wheel to break Hackett’s spell. “Okay, I got another quote for ya.”
“Hit me.”
“Now, this is a classic. Everyone in the world has seen this movie.”
“Okay.”
In his most strained voice, as if he could barely get out the words, Bishop said, “I got no place else to go. I got no place else to go! I got nothin’ else.”
Hackett grinned, watching him mug for a few seconds before giving up. “I got no idea.”
Bishop’s tone was now deeper and gruff. “Oh, come on, May-o-nnaise.”
“What?”
Bishop continued in his best imitation of the unnamed actor, throwing at him some insulting remarks about Oklahoma.
“This is all the
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