Read Online Unleashed (A Sydney Rye Novel, # 1) by Emily Kimelman - Free Book Online
Authors: Emily Kimelman
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not mixed up in shit, OK? I just walk dogs.”
“Did Mrs. Saperstein seem like a jealous woman to you? Please, sit down.”
“What?” I looked around the office. Its glass walls were covered by dirty white Venetian blinds. The institutional gray filing cabinets piled with manila folders seemed close, and getting closer.
“I asked that you please sit down.”
“No,” I put my hands out palms forward. “What are you talking about me being next? Are you just trying to scare me? Is that your thing? You like scaring young women.” I was pressed up against the wall now, my weight bending the blinds, causing them to crackle and snap.
“Mrs. Saperstein was arrested for assaulting Mr. Saperstein not three months ago. Did you know that?” I had a flash of Mrs. Saperstein hurling a pot of something boiling at Mr. Saperstein, him ducking and the pot smashing onto the wall behind where his head had just been.
“Why don’t you answer my question?”
“I think if you would sit down and think for a moment you might understand my point.” I didn’t sit down.
“I get your point. You’re implying that Mrs. Saperstein killed her husband and is going to kill me next. But that’s bullshit. I don’t even know these people.”
“I’m just letting you know that Mrs. Saperstein is not the woman you think she is.”
“You have no idea what I think of her. You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know you have a short temper. You have proved that this evening.”
“Yeah, well, I learned you’re a dick.” Fuck, I should not have said that. But the Detective just smiled and looked down at his paperwork.
“You are free to go, Ms. Humbolt. Get home safe.”
I grabbed my bag off the chair and flew out of his office onto the street and into the subway. My adrenaline was pumping hard as I waited for the train. This guy was clearly insane. I mean, what kind of psycho implies that a woman you only just met is plotting your death? He obviously had no leads and was lashing out at whatever made a remote amount of sense according to his deluded understanding of the case. Then it occurred to me that I had forgotten to clean Oscar’s litter. “Dammit,” I said out loud. No one even glanced at me. The glassy stares of my fellow passengers continued to deny their surroundings. “Fuck,” I said a little louder. Nothing. I love this city, I thought to myself as the train clacked and squealed me back to Brooklyn.
Back at Charlene’s
I was running late when I got to Charlene’s apartment the next day. Snowball had escaped the dog run through a hole in the fence and then evaded me by hiding in a shrubbery. Oscar followed me into the bathroom where his litter was and meowed purposefully as I cleaned it out. “What, boy? You want more food or water?” He released a meow, arched his back, and puffed his tail. I rubbed his head. He took the pettings gladly and encouraged me by flopping onto his back. “I’d love to hang out and scratch your belly all day, but I’ve got to get back to work.” He just purred with his eyes closed. When I stood up, Oscar’s eyes opened, and he rolled back onto his paws.
I left the bathroom. He got under my feet, moving between my legs in a figure eight, purring, and tripping me. “Oscar, come on, I’ve got to go.” He just rubbed himself against my leg, begging for a little more attention. “Poor guy, you must be lonely here all by yourself.” He meowed in agreement. “Listen, buddy, I’ll come back later, alright? I have to go now.” I passed the open bedroom door and about ten steps later realized I was almost positive there had been a man in there. I stopped mid-stride, filled instantly with fear, the same kind I get at night when I’m alone, and I can’t sleep, and I swear I hear something, or someone, creak outside my bedroom door. Oscar took my pause to mean that I wanted to pet him, so flopped onto his back, wiggling his belly and stretching his paw toward
“Did Mrs. Saperstein seem like a jealous woman to you? Please, sit down.”
“What?” I looked around the office. Its glass walls were covered by dirty white Venetian blinds. The institutional gray filing cabinets piled with manila folders seemed close, and getting closer.
“I asked that you please sit down.”
“No,” I put my hands out palms forward. “What are you talking about me being next? Are you just trying to scare me? Is that your thing? You like scaring young women.” I was pressed up against the wall now, my weight bending the blinds, causing them to crackle and snap.
“Mrs. Saperstein was arrested for assaulting Mr. Saperstein not three months ago. Did you know that?” I had a flash of Mrs. Saperstein hurling a pot of something boiling at Mr. Saperstein, him ducking and the pot smashing onto the wall behind where his head had just been.
“Why don’t you answer my question?”
“I think if you would sit down and think for a moment you might understand my point.” I didn’t sit down.
“I get your point. You’re implying that Mrs. Saperstein killed her husband and is going to kill me next. But that’s bullshit. I don’t even know these people.”
“I’m just letting you know that Mrs. Saperstein is not the woman you think she is.”
“You have no idea what I think of her. You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know you have a short temper. You have proved that this evening.”
“Yeah, well, I learned you’re a dick.” Fuck, I should not have said that. But the Detective just smiled and looked down at his paperwork.
“You are free to go, Ms. Humbolt. Get home safe.”
I grabbed my bag off the chair and flew out of his office onto the street and into the subway. My adrenaline was pumping hard as I waited for the train. This guy was clearly insane. I mean, what kind of psycho implies that a woman you only just met is plotting your death? He obviously had no leads and was lashing out at whatever made a remote amount of sense according to his deluded understanding of the case. Then it occurred to me that I had forgotten to clean Oscar’s litter. “Dammit,” I said out loud. No one even glanced at me. The glassy stares of my fellow passengers continued to deny their surroundings. “Fuck,” I said a little louder. Nothing. I love this city, I thought to myself as the train clacked and squealed me back to Brooklyn.
Back at Charlene’s
I was running late when I got to Charlene’s apartment the next day. Snowball had escaped the dog run through a hole in the fence and then evaded me by hiding in a shrubbery. Oscar followed me into the bathroom where his litter was and meowed purposefully as I cleaned it out. “What, boy? You want more food or water?” He released a meow, arched his back, and puffed his tail. I rubbed his head. He took the pettings gladly and encouraged me by flopping onto his back. “I’d love to hang out and scratch your belly all day, but I’ve got to get back to work.” He just purred with his eyes closed. When I stood up, Oscar’s eyes opened, and he rolled back onto his paws.
I left the bathroom. He got under my feet, moving between my legs in a figure eight, purring, and tripping me. “Oscar, come on, I’ve got to go.” He just rubbed himself against my leg, begging for a little more attention. “Poor guy, you must be lonely here all by yourself.” He meowed in agreement. “Listen, buddy, I’ll come back later, alright? I have to go now.” I passed the open bedroom door and about ten steps later realized I was almost positive there had been a man in there. I stopped mid-stride, filled instantly with fear, the same kind I get at night when I’m alone, and I can’t sleep, and I swear I hear something, or someone, creak outside my bedroom door. Oscar took my pause to mean that I wanted to pet him, so flopped onto his back, wiggling his belly and stretching his paw toward
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