Deadly Mistakes

"What?" Charlie said, half-scared and half-angry. Her empty hand clenched at her side, her books grew heavy in the other.

"I wanted to ask you a couple of questions about your friend, Charlie," the stranger declared.

Charlie raised her eyebrows, stunned-speechless. The man grasping her shoulder could overpower her. Six-one, maybe six-two, and roughly guessing, she put him just under two hundred pounds, which in turn, put him at a great height and weight advantage over her slight frame.

"Who wants to know?" She thrust her free hand on her hip.

The tall stranger reached into his jacket. Charlie flinched and considered running again. But instead of a weapon, he produced a brown leather wallet. Inside, a Chicago Police Department badge and ID said Detective Robert M. Allen.

"You're a cop?"

"Yes." He nodded.

"Do you normally follow people around? Sneaking up on them?"

"Well, I..."

"Why have you been following me all morning?" she interrupted.

"I have been tailing Brian McMillen."

Charlie wobbled, lightheaded at the name.

The detective deposited his wallet back in his wool sports coat.

As far as Charlie knew, the police had not yet determined the dead man's identity. The media had not ventured a guess on who he was with nothing to go on. The fact the man who stood before her knew his name frightened her.

"I followed him down here from Chicago last week. I lost track and haven't been able to find him. I read someone died in your friend Charlie's apartment. From the description they wrote up in the paper this morning, I put two and two together. I know it has to be him."

"You're investigating him? This Brian?" Charlie toyed with the edge of her psychology book. "Is he some kind of criminal?"

"No."

Staring up at him, she waited for him to continue.

"I'm not exactly investigating him, but I have been following him for some time."

"What does any of this have to do with me?" Charlie ran her hand through her hair and replaced it on her hip, shifting her weight to other leg.

"I got Charlie's address from the police report, down at the station. I was watching the apartment when you and he left. I wanted to ask you if he had any kind of relationship with Brian." His dark brown eyes penetrated hers as he waited for an answer.

"But why follow me? Not Charlie?" She lowered her gaze to the books in her arms.

"I thought you might help me out first. I know the police have grilled him at length and he might not be willing to talk to me."

The detective was right about one thing at least.

"Maybe you could give me a straight answer. Help me get a handle on the situation. Before I go talk to him."

"There is no relationship between Charlie and Brian. They didn't know each other."

"And you're absolutely sure there is no relationship?"

"Positive." She nodded.

"Why?" Detective Allen pushed on.

"Man, what the hell is wrong with everyone?" Charlie looked up at the cloudless sky. Turning all her attention back to the newest detective in her life, she continued, wagging her finger in the detective's face. "Look, first you follow me around all morning, frankly scaring the shit out of me, then you tell me you want to get a better handle on 'Charlie's' supposed relationship with this dead guy.

"When I do answer your damn question you don't believe me and question my certainty. What the hell is wrong with you?" She didn't wait for him to answer. "Don't bother me if you aren't going to listen. As a matter of fact, don't bother me at all." She turned and walked away.

Detective Allen grabbed Charlie's elbow. "I am just trying to be sure about everything. I apologize for scaring you and apparently annoying you." His voice dripped with sarcasm. "But as you can surely tell, this is a sensitive situation. Can you please tell me why you're so sure?"

"Because I am Charlie." She placed her hand on her chest. "And I have never met the guy, never seen him before in my life. I have no idea how he wound up on my floor," she yelled at him, all her patience lost.