The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry(46)

—A.J.F.

What bothers me in a story more than anything is a loose end,” Deputy Doug Lippman says, selecting four mini-quiches from the hors d’oeuvres Lambiase has provided. After many years of hosting the Chief’s Choice Book Club, Lambiase knows that the most important thing, even more than the title at hand, is food and drink.

“Deputy,” Lambiase says, “it’s a three-quiche max, or there won’t be enough for everyone.”

The deputy puts a quiche back on the tray. “Like, okay, what the heck happened to the violin? Did I miss something? A priceless Stradivarius doesn’t vanish into thin air.”

“Good point,” Lambiase says. “Anyone?”

“You know what I freaking hate,” Kathy from Homicide says. “I freaking hate shoddy police work. Like, when no one wears gloves, I’m yelling, Shut up, you’re contaminating the crime scene.”

“You never get that in Deaver,” Sylvio from Dispatch says.

“If only they could all be Deaver,” Lambiase says.

“But what I hate more than bad police work is when everything is solved too quickly,” Homicide Kathy continues. “Even Deaver does it. Things take time to figure out. Sometimes years. You got to live with a case a long time.”

“Good point, Kathy.”

“These mini-quiches are delicious, by the way.”

“Costco,” Lambiase says.

“I hate the women characters,” Rosie the firefighter says. “The policewomen are always ex-models from families of cops. She’s got, like, one flaw.”

“Bites her nails,” says Homicide Kathy. “Unruly hair. Big mouth.”

Rosie the firefighter laughs. “It’s some fantasy of a lady in law enforcement is what it is.”

“I dunno,” Deputy Dave says. “I like the fantasy.”

“Maybe the writer’s point is that the violin is not the point?” Lambiase says.

“Of course it’s the point,” says Deputy Dave.

“Maybe the point is how the violin affects everyone’s lives?” Lambiase continues.

“Boo,” Rosie the firefighter says. She makes a thumbs-down sign. “Booooo.”

From the counter, A.J. listens to the discussion. Of the dozen or so book groups Island hosts, Chief’s Choice is his favorite by far. Lambiase calls over to him, “Back me up here, A.J. You don’t always have to know who stole the violin.”

“In my experience, a book is more satisfying to readers if you do,” A.J. says. “Although I don’t mind ambiguity myself.”

The groups’ cheers drown out everything after the word do.

“Traitor,” Lambiase yells.

At that moment, the wind chimes sound as Ismay enters the store. The group goes back to discussing the book, but Lambiase can’t help staring at her. She has a white summer dress on with a full skirt that emphasizes her tiny waist. She wears her red hair long again, which softens her face. He is reminded of the orchids that his ex-wife used to keep in the front window.

Ismay goes up to A.J. She sets a piece of paper on the counter. “I’ve finally picked the play,” she says. “I’ll probably need about fifty copies of Our Town.”

“It’s a classic,” A.J. says.

Many years after Daniel Parish’s death and a half hour after Chief’s Choice, Lambiase decides enough time has passed to make a particular inquiry of A.J. “I hate to overstep here, but would you check if your sister-in-law is interested in going on a date with a not-bad-looking law enforcement officer?”

“To whom are you referring?”

“Me. I was kidding about the not-bad-looking part. I know I’m not exactly the blue-ribbon cow.”

“No, I meant who do you want me to ask. Amelia is an only child.”

“Not Amelia. I mean, your ex-sister-in-law, Ismay.”

“Oh, right. Ismay.” A.J. pauses. “Ismay? Really? Her?”

“Yeah, I’ve always kind of had a thing for her. Going way back to high school. Not that she ever noticed me very much. I figure none of us is getting any younger, so I should take my chances now.”

A.J. calls Ismay on the phone and makes the request.

“Lambiase?” she asks. “Him?”

“He’s a good guy,” A.J. says.

“It’s only . . . well, I’ve never dated a police officer before,” Ismay says.

“That’s starting to sound awfully snobbish.”

“I don’t mean to sound that way, but blue-collar men have never been my type.”

And that worked out so well with you and Daniel, A.J. thinks but does not say.

“Of course, my marriage was a disaster,” Ismay says.

SEVERAL EVENINGS LATER, she and Lambiase are at El Corazon. She orders the surf and turf, and a gin and tonic. No need to put on a show of femininity as she suspects there won’t be a second date.

“Good appetite,” Lambiase comments. “I’ll have the same.”

“So,” Ismay says, “what do you do when you aren’t being a cop?”

“Well, believe it or not,” he says shyly, “I read a lot. Maybe you wouldn’t think it’s that much. I know you teach English.”

“What do you read?” Ismay asks.