The Edge of Sleep by David Wiltse Page A

known to everyone as Tee, hitched at his belt again, pulling it up so that it fit tightly across his stomach. It would stay there until he inhaled again and then slip down to accommodate his paunch once more.
    “I know that a young woman was in town looking for you a couple days ago. She was a seriously good-looking woman. Had a whole lot of body stuffed under her clothes.”
    “Probably trying to hide it from your eagle eye.”
    “She forgot my powers of detection. She had breasts and hips and other stuff.”
    “Face?”
    “Also a face, yes. What a softer guy would call a lovely face. But she was trying real hard not to let on that she was such a looker. Flashed a very heavy badge at me. But I wasn’t fooled.”
    “Because you have a badge of your own.”
    “I have a badge and a gun. I’ve got a car with lights on the roof. I have a radio on my belt.”
    “You are the chief, after all.”
    “Fucking A. So I wasn’t fooled by this girl’s badge. I still knew she was a very seriously attractive woman. Now why in hell would a good-looking woman be asking about the whereabouts of a guy like you? I wondered. Especially when she was looking square in the face of a guy like me.”
    “Bad eyesight?”
    “Or too good. I think she spotted the wedding ring right away.”
    “You ought to remove it from your nose at times like that.”
    “I’ll tell my wife you said that. Does Cindi know about this handsome babe who’s asking about you?”
    “Cindi and I are divorced,” said Becker. “Just to remind you. You were my best man at the ceremony.”
    Tee shrugged. “Nothing unusual there. I’m the best man wherever I go.”
    “Because you’re the chief.”
    “Fucking A ... She still asks about you,” Tee said, his tone now more serious.
    “Who?”
    “Cindi. She asks how you’re doing, like that.”
    “You see her?”
    “In the course of my appointed rounds ... She still cares about you, John.”
    “I still care about her ... Is she—uh—okay?”
    “No, she’s not seeing anybody,” Tee said. “Although I can’t imagine why. I don’t know if you ever noticed it during your marriage, John, but Cindi is one very fine female.”
    “I was aware ... I was lucky to be with her. I didn’t deserve her.”
    “This is true.”
    “Unfortunately she finally realized it.”
    “That’s not quite the way she tells it.”
    “Even eyewitness accounts vary,” Becker said.
    “You know why no one’s asking her out, don’t you?”
    “They’ve all turned fashionably gay?” ,
    “I’m serious, John.”
    “Why?”
    “They don’t ask her out because they’re afraid of you.”
    “Bullshit.”
    “It’s true.”
    “Nobody in Clamden has any reason to be afraid of me. I’ve never hurt a soul here.”
    “They hear the stories.”
    “How do they hear the stories? I don’t tell them. Cindi doesn’t tell them.”
    Tee held up his hands in innocence.
    “Don’t look at me. Your past is private history as far as I’m concerned.”
    “So how do they hear ‘the stories’?”
    “I don’t know. Word gets around. Rumors are hard to stop.”
    “Does Cindi think I’m trying to scare people off?”
    Tee shrugged. “Not intentionally.”
    Becker studied his feet. “Jesus Christ, Tee, are people really scared of me?”
    “Not those who know you, John.”
    “But others. Those who just hear about me? They think I’m—what—dangerous enough? Demented enough? Bloodthirsty enough to hurt them for trying to date my ex-wife? I’ve never hurt a soul except as part of my job.”
    “I know that, John. Most people know that.”
    “I live here, god damn it! I can’t have people being afraid of me!”
    “I’m probably exaggerating it. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
    “Start another rumor ...”
    “I didn’t start this one.”
    “Tell them I’m harmless. Tell them I’m a pussycat. Tell them I quit the FBI because I was afraid of the work ... That’s the truth, anyway.”
    “You weren’t afraid of