Ten Plagues

Paul thought of how he’d grabbed Keren and the disrespectful way he’d treated her. She’d gone to her car and he knew she’d be waiting for him … waiting to take him apart.

“And facing forward takes you straight into the angry clutches of Detective Collins,” Rosita said. “And by the way, anything she does to you … you deserve.”

“Good luck, amigo,” Manny called after him.

Keren kept both hands on the wheel to keep them off Paul’s throat as he slipped into the car beside her.

“So, Stupidville just took a vote and you’re the new mayor?” Keren slammed her foot on the gas before he got the door closed.

“It was a landslide.” Paul grappled for his seat belt, as if he suspected she had violent plans for his side of the car.

“What’s the point of having a head if you’re not going to use it?” Keren left rubber behind on the pavement as she pulled out into the traffic.

“I promise I’ll sit here quietly while you let me have it, even if it takes all day. I deserve every word of it.”

“Don’t think you’re going to get out of this by being sorry and nice,” Keren snarled. “It won’t save you.”

Paul sighed. “I’d hoped it would.”

“I know this is hard for you.”

“Please don’t start sounding like you feel sorry for me.” Paul waved her politeness away. “I woke up just as you came in, and it was like I—I sort of time traveled back to the days I was a cop. I’m awake now. I deserve scorn, contempt, rage, compound fractures. But I don’t deserve sympathy, and if you start being nice instead of crushing my out-of-control ego, I promise I’ll maul you again just to get your angry juices flowing.”

She glanced over at that last bit, and his eyes weren’t really back to normal—there was still heat when he said he’d maul her. And plenty of cynicism. She did need to abuse him. It was the right thing to do.

“I don’t know where to start.”

Paul said, “Why don’t you start by telling me what I did to you that made you so mad at me in the first place. It wasn’t something like that was it?”

Keren slammed her palm on the steering wheel. “Was there a time when you did things like that? You were married when you were on the force. Please don’t tell me you were that big of a slime. I don’t know if I could forgive you, even if God is up to it.”

“No, I never cheated on my wife. But I sometimes … well, I didn’t always treat women with … well … respect. The thing is, there might be a few women who’d tell you I was kind of a … a …”

“Jerk?” Keren supplied.

“Well—”

“Pig?” Keren wheeled around a corner.

“Some of them might—”

“Letch?” The back end of the car fishtailed.

“I don’t think letch is—”

“Scumball?” She straightened out and floored it.

“Now, Keren, scumball seems a little—”

“All of the above? You want to supply your own words?”

“You’re doing fine. You don’t need my help.” Paul shrugged. “Anyway, I wasn’t unfaithful. Disrespect to women, yes, but I disrespected men, too. Nothing sexist about it. I was an equal opportunity, arrogant jerk. All my trouble with my wife was about how important my work was and how unimportant my family was.” Paul slid lower in the seat and she caught him taking a quick look at her.

She clamped her mouth shut, trying to figure out whether to commiserate or go after him with her nightstick.

“Aren’t you going to yell at me? Please don’t tell me you’re done, because I really can’t stand the guilt if you let me off the hook this easily.”

“Okay, no problem.”

Flinching, Paul said, “That was reverse psychology.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Tough luck. I guess the only reason I’d stop yelling at you would be because I decided you were hopeless. And I really don’t want to think that.”

“Don’t give up on me.”

“Now you’re being the kindhearted pastor again. Turn back into the cop so I can yell at him.”

“I’m not brave enough to do that.”

“This weird morphing thing you’ve been doing, into the cop you used to be, has to be an aberration.” Keren glanced at him, but mostly she watched the road. “Maybe tearing a strip off your hide will help you get a handle on it.”

Paul squared his shoulders as if he were prepared to wave farewell to his hide.

“How do you reconcile manhandling me, insulting me—’You’re pretty when you’re mad.’“ Her voice was pitched low,

whiny, pure mockery of a man’s voice. “How do you go from urging O’Shea and me to call Juanita by her name, to referring to Wilma as a vic? What’s happening to you?”

“I told you, anger is a sin I struggle with,” Paul said. “The last few days, I’ve been letting my anger rule me. And as my sin ruled my temper, it began to rule my life.”

“That stunt this morning wasn’t anger, you moron! It was pure ego. Pure disrespect for me. Blaming it on your temper is a cop-out, and I’m sick of hearing you make excuses!” Keren wheeled them around a corner and two wheels left the pavement. Paul didn’t suggest she slow down. She hoped it was because he was too scared.