The Loves and Tribulations of Detective Stephen Carlton

By Rene Natan

This novel won the silver in the romance category of the 2015 Global Ebook Awards

“Hi, I’m Mary White.”
Carlton tilted his head toward her.
“I’m with that tour group there,” she pointed to the bus, “heading for Bogotá. I traveled with the nuns from the Sanctuary of Our Lady of Coromoto. We were on our way to San Cristóbal.” She stopped, seemingly expecting some attention. When this wasn’t forthcoming, she continued, “The bus broke down three hours ago. There is no sign that we might leave soon. The driver walked back to El Llano, the main highway, to seek help.” She paus¬ed. “I heard you say you’re going across the border. I wonder if...” She stopped and then, “Would you take a passenger? I’d pay, of course.”
Mary moved her luggage very close to the aircraft and waited—her long hair and her blue skirt tugged by the breeze. Underneath her silky blouse she was wearing a necklace with a pendant in the shape of a large cross.
“I don’t give lifts,” Carlton answered dryly. He turned his back.
“That’s too bad. I wouldn’t be any trouble. Three hundred dollars cash.” Her tone was soft yet persuasive.
Carlton didn’t reply. He moved toward the landing gear and checked the wiring.
Mary followed him. “Five hundred. I could be of help.”
“Are you a mechanic?”
“No, I have nursing training—just in case.”
“I’m healthy, thank you.” Carlton skirted her to grab a wrench.
“One thousand dollars. I’d do anything you ask.” Her voice was just a whisper. She was so close to him that her hair, lifted by the wind, grazed his face. Carlton bent to pull on a cord to test its connection. It was then that he saw Mary turning around and lifting her bags. “Wait!” he called.
She instantly dropped her bags, made an about-face, and waited.
“Anything I ask?” Carlton finally showed his face completely and looked her over. “Anything at all? That is a pretty strong statement.”
Mary flickered her eyes between Carlton and the ground.
It would be interesting to find out how far she was ready to go. “Aren’t you concerned about making such an offer? What would you do if I asked for something...” he stopped and looked straight into her eyes, “for something of an intimate nature?”
This time Mary held his gaze. She folded her arms behind her and didn’t utter a word.
Carlton kept watching her as he stored the wrench in the toolbox. Slowly he moved again behind the propeller, waiting for her reaction.
There was none. No offense or anxiety shown and no withdrawal, thought Carlton. Vern Simpson was right; she’s a high stakes player. He was ready to continue the game and prod her further, when a sudden gust sent his voltammeter skidding on the runway.
The woman promptly recovered it and handed it back to him.
He had to leave. The wind was gaining strength by the minute. He quickly put away all his instruments and moved close to her. Seriously, he said, “Five hundred dollars will be enough and it will be all.” He extended his hand. “Stephen William Carlton, Steve for short. I’m a bush pilot.”
“Mary White.” The young woman gave his hand a solid shake. Her lips parted in an open, friendly smile. “I’ll be right back.” She ran to the bus, talked to a couple of the nuns, and returned immediately.
“Get in, Mary—that’s your name? I’d like to leave right away. A storm is approaching from the northeast. I want to stay ahead of it.”
Mary flung the duffle bag deep into the plane and was ready to do the same with the knapsack, when Steve stopped her.
“I’ll take care of that. I don’t want you to destroy my plane. It’s almost a relic ready for a museum. Just get aboard.” He lifted the knapsack high. “That’s heavy!” he exclaimed with surprise. “What do you carry in it?”
Mary sheltered her mouth with her hand and neared Steve’s ear. “Just a few condoms,” she whispered. As she moved away, she added, “brand names only.”
Steve watched her climb the stairway, brisk yet graceful. She may be

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rene Natan
• Release date: Sep 26, 2014
• ISBN: 9780993827013

Rene Natan

I always wanted to be a storyteller. At recess time I would gather some of my schoolmates and entertain them with stories—some of my own, others just summaries of books I read. My life, however, took a different turn, and I ended up following a career in information technology (as Professor Irene Gargantini). This over, I reverted to my old passion: plotting intrigues and mysteries and creating romantic or passionate encounters. I took several e-courses on fiction writing and began jotting down my tales. So far I have written nine novels, several short stories and co-authored a novella. The genre varies from romantic suspense (Mountains of Dawn, The Collage, The Loves and Tribulations of Detective Stephen Carlton, The Woman in Black, The Red Manor) to thriller (The Jungfrau Watch, The Blackpox Threat, The Bricklayer, Fleeting Visions). See www.vermeil.biz As an author, my goal is threefold: having fun in writing, entertaining the readers and offering them an uplifting vision at life. Honors Second place, the 2015 Five Star Dragonfly Book Awards for The Woman in Black Silver Medal, the 2015 Global Ebook Awards for The Loves and Tribulations of Detective Stephen Carlton Honorable Mention, Second place, the 2015 Five Star Dragonfly Award for The Woman in Black, Honorable Mention, 2014 San Francisco Book Festival, for Fleeting Visions First place, 2012 Five Star Dragonfly Award for the Blackpox Threat Finalist in the 2011 National Indie Excellence Award for the Blackpox Threat Honorary Mention, 2012 San Francisco Book Competition for the Bricklayer ---------------------------------------- From the Social Media From the Press: http://newsblaze.com/story/20110320075530zzzz.nb/topstory.html http://www.centralvalleybusinesstimes.com/stories/001/?ID=18849 From the Frankie Boyer BLOG: http://frankieboyer.typepad.com/blog/2011/07/ frankie-boyers-guest-line-up-for-wednesday-7611.html From KEMW-FM radio station Dr. Jim Lee presents Rene Natan: Interview ----------------------------------------- Review of Mountains of Dawn Romancing the Tone: Review of Rene Natan’s Mountain of Dawns By Frank Mundo Mountain of Dawns opens with a bang, literally: an explosion which kills one young woman named Kathy Alcin and injures another named Tanya Caldwell. 22 year-old Tanya Caldwell is an artist, “a dreamer” and a student at the Mackenzie Academy for the Visual Arts in Vermeil, Ontario, 80 miles outside of Toronto. “...Quiet. Well-mannered. Neat,” Tanya’s “a bit strange...like all creative people”. Orphaned as a child, Tanya dreams of dusty roads and the fosters homes she has bounced in and out of throughout her childhood. With no family, no money, and with no apparent connections to the world other than her art, Tanya seems harmless and rather insignificant in the grand scheme of things. So, why in the world would anyone want to kill her? The explosion we learn, however, is not an accident, but a car bomb. A mob-style hit which seems to have been intended for Tanya, who had only loaned her car to her roommate for the day. Oddly enough, we learn that this isn’t the first (and won’t be the last) attempt on Tanya’s life as we follow her through the twists and turns of Rene Natan’s novel billed as a Romance/Thriller. Okay, I know what you’re thinking: Oh no, Romance novel, right? Those cheesy books at the grocery store with a glossy, embossed picture of a pastel, ruffle-bloused Fabio and his big tan man-boobs on the cover. That’s what I was thinking too when I was asked to review it. Thankfully, this is not one of those books (which, depressingly, by the way, are among the most sellable and most sought after manuscripts in all of genre fiction these days). Mountain of Dawns is far more thrilling than romantic in that sense. As Tanya flees to the Riviera (a safe haven for her art as well) she does have a romantic affair with a publisher named Kevin Matwin, and does meet up with an Italian Count with suspicious international connections and serious clout. But the “romantic” element, if anything, is linked more to a type of storytelling made famous by “sentimental” writers of the past, writers such as Harriet Beecher Stowe or the Bronte sisters, and not the modern, escapist bologna that titillated housewives hide under their mattresses. In fact, Tanya Caldwell resembles, as a character, the character Jane Eyre in many ways, from her orphaned childhood to her mysterious ancestry and surprising windfalls. The plot of Mountain of Dawns owes quite a bit to the plot of Charlotte Bronte’s famous feminist romance Jane Eyre as well. Those familiar with Bronte’s story know that I can’t say much more about the plot of Natan’s novel without spoiling the twists and surprising turn of events which link the innocent Tanya Caldwell to the financial motive of her corrupted and desperate would-be killers. Those unfamiliar with Jane Eyre (which I was forced to read in five different lit classes over the years) will just have to take my word for it. Natan’s style, however, does differ from Bronte’s in that it lacks the strong biased tone and the heavy-handed ultra-sentimentalism of the old-fashion Romance novels. At times her prose even seems a bit journalistic and somewhat detached, (void of that tone or bias so apparent in those early romantic works) despite her story’s extremely personal nature and clever plot twists -- a story which closes, as it opens, with another surprising bang. Personally, I think her book might’ve benefited from a first person point-of-view, with a biased Tanya Caldwell at the wheel. After all, there’s nothing wrong with a bias in fiction. Honestly, I prefer it. I’ve even come, in many instances, to expect it. It is what creates the tone of most fiction. But, then again, I’ve always had a bias toward the first person narrative. Mountain of Dawns is Rene Natan’s first novel published in 1999 by Juppiter99 (available both in eBook and paperback versions) at very reasonable prices. Her other novels include Cross of Sapphires and The Collage (reviewed by Adrienne Jones and available in The Swamp’s “Review Archives“). Natan is also the author of shorter works Killing on Mount Yula, A Pair of Wings for Christmas, and Operation: Woman in Black. She is currently at work on a new novel. ---------------------------------------- Review of The Blackpox Threat The Blackpox Threat A Rene Natan Novel An Old Line Publishing Book ISBN-13: 978-0-9845704-5-4 ISBN-10: 0-9845704-5-4 Website: www.oldlinepublishingllc.com It is my belief that not many readers of this review have dreamed of becoming a spy for their country. In reading The Blackpox Threat by Rene Natan, you will meet Tamara Smith of London, Ontario who was challenged to do this very thing. It wasn’t an easy decision as the nightmares of her early youth had finally begun to fade, and she was living a comfortable life. Her parents, political refugees from the USSR, had been murdered because of her father’s covert activities. Endangering her own life was the last thing on her mind when she accepted a job with the Modano Company—Ship Me Safely—as a public relations person. Her boss, Charles Modano, hired her to assist at his antique shop two days a week and also asked that she occasionally accompany him to social functions where many potential buyers of antiques were contacted. The Modano Company had an excellent reputation for shipping valuable items without incurring any damage. At thirty-two years of age, Tamara felt the need for financial security and to have a relaxed, stable life. She loved her job and life was good. However, her new job brought challenges that she could never have anticipated! Vassilli Petrovic and Brad Wilson asked her to become involved in a dangerous covert operation in which she would actually spy on the company where she was now enjoying employment. Vassilli had been a lifetime friend who helped her before and after her parents’ death and she owed him much. But she didn’t owe anything to Brad Wilson, who was ever so determined that she go along with their request. She had been singled out because of her position with the Modano Company whom they suspected of handling the shipment of some very dangerous cargo. But what was this cargo? Tamara learns that it is a deadly virus called “The Blackpox” and that it is on its way to Canada. And so this beautiful woman who hadn’t wanted to leave her comfort zone agrees to participate in this dangerous mission; the operation is called “Bullfrog.” Tamara is giving some special training as well as recording devices and other equipment to help her carry out this undertaking with as much safety as possible. It is, however, her father’s gun—a Smith and Wesson—registered in her name that gives her the most confidence. The characters in this novel are all believable, and their personalities developed skillfully by the author who employs natural sounding dialog to move the exciting plot forward at a fast pace. Along with the excitement and danger, there is a romantic interest that slowly develops between Tamara and a young man named Justin Devry. Although she is obviously attracted to him, she is not eager to get involved because of her connection with “Operation Bullfrog.” Personally, I wasn’t sure I trusted him or even those involved with her in the covert operation. As it turns out, there was a mole in their team—someone they all trusted with their lives. Boris Youkenoff, a man knowledgeable in microbiology and organic chemistry, had worked in a natural, underground cave in Western Ukraine where there were the remains of an old lab that had been established by the Soviet Union for the development of biological weapons. When he meets Frank Milton, who has expertise in Biology, they become a deadly duo focused on coming up with a virus that would make them rich. Then there was Nekton who would go to any lengths to get hold of the virus. Just how many people were involved in this threat? Was there a vaccine? Could they be stopped by “Operation Bullfrog?” Tamara faced many hurdles in her short spying career that included murder, her own kidnapping, betrayal, and other breathtaking twists and turns. This is a mesmerizing novel, and individuals who purchase it will agree with me that it is a “must read.” I give The Blackpox Threat my highest recommendation. Bettie Corbin Tucker For Independent Professional Book Reviewers -------------------------------------- Review of The Red Manor The Red Manor Rene Natan PublishAmerica ISBN: 1-60672-325-1 344 pages In reading The Red Manor by Rene Natan, I found myself totally captivated by the storyline, the characters, and the creativity of the author. With a book of this caliber, we reviewers tend to say, “I just couldn’t put the book down once I started to read it.” Although a cliché, I can honestly say that this is how I felt as I eagerly progressed from chapter to chapter of The Red Manor, anticipating what would follow. Christopher Sandcroft, one of the main characters, is introduced in the first chapter as he agonizes over his decision to move his father Lucio from the Red Manor, a castle in Italy that had been in the family for 600 years. Chris was taking him to Harrisville, Canada to live with him in a magnificent house where he hoped this elderly man in a wheelchair would adjust and find some contentment. The son was very well off, having taken over a company his grandfather had started that built seismographs as well as some other equipment. Living with Christopher on his estate was Kathy, the housekeeper and her husband Gideon who was in charge of maintenance. Before long Chris hired Lillian Carrigan as a caregiver for his father who very slowly seemed to be adjusting to his new surroundings. Lucio liked the staff and the fact that a few paintings from the family collection had also made the trip to his new living quarters; however, in the back of his mind he often thought about the ancient curse that had been cast on his family, one that predicted the extinction of the Red Manor and its occupants. By going with Chris to live in Canada, he hoped to break the curse. When his other son Rick had lost his life at sea as a young child, his wife had left Lucio and taken Chris to Canada to live. Rick and Chris had been identical twins. As the storyline unfolds, readers are introduced to other characters—some friendly and trustworthy while others are sleazy and dishonest. The Howards, friends from England who had stayed at the Red Manor in the past, visit Lucio and his son in Canada. The visit opens a door that leads to danger and romance. The romance is between Vivian, the visiting couple’s daughter and Chris. A spark of an old romance is rekindled and quickly grows into a serious relationship. The danger involves a search for two missing cups of historical value that were once part of a collection of four that had been manufactured for a coronation. Lucio had given the two missing cups to his wife when she moved to Canada. When found, the publicity leads to much more than they had bargained for. Among the twists and turns, readers learn that Lillian Carrigan is raped by a man who looks very much like Chris but, of course, it wasn’t him. If you are thinking that his supposedly-deceased twin brother is the one who attacked Lillian, you would be wrong. DNA cleared Chris, and identical twins have the same DNA. But why did this man look so much like Chris and why did he rape Lillian? Also who later broke into the Sandcroft estate to steal what they believed to be the valuable cups? Chris returns to Italy to take care of a life-threatening situation. As all the pieces of this intriguing puzzle fall together, readers will feel satisfied when they read the final chapter. Although there is a funeral; there is going to be a wedding. This is an exceptionally well-written book by a very creative author who has researched her material and knows how to keep the eyes of readers riveted to the pages. The storyline reflects realism, the description is outstanding, and the dialog flows naturally. I give it my highest recommendation as a “must read.” Bettie Corbin Tucker For Independent Professional Book Reviewers ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Red Manor Reviewed by Reta Ross In the Red Manor Rene Natan has a total grasp of the lifestyles of the affluent as well as that of Romania gypsies. The juxtaposition and polarities are fascinating and the rip-off mentality of the fleece-artists knows no bounds. Lucio Sandcroft, Lord of the Red Manor, is burdened by an ancient family curse, the loss of his son, Rick, and the subsequent abandonment by his wife. To add insult to injury she took the remaining son, Rick’s twin, Chris Sandcroft when she absconded to Canada. Lucio’s wealth, although extensive, can’t compensate for his depression over the family curse and its predicted threats. Wheelchair bound he is almost at his wits end when his, now grown son, Chris, asks him to come to Canada and move in with him, he accepts, hoping to escape the curse. Chris is equally as wealthy as his dad, Lucio, thanks to his success in running his grandfather’s seismographs manufacturing company. Christopher’s estate is managed by Kathy and her husband, Gideon. Leaving no stone unturned in his efforts to ensure the old man is well cared for he hires Lillian Carrigan to tend to his every need. Lucio hoped the move to Canada would somehow dispel the ancient curse which foretells the annihilation of the Red Manor and its occupants. Even if the curse was overturned by this maneuver there was still the pain of losing his other son, Rick, who was washed overboard at sea as a young child. The sons were identical twins. Other characters—thicken the plot, the Howards from England who once, while in Italy, stayed at the Red Manor. Their daughter, Vivian, accompanies them to Canada and she and Chris fall in love. The Howards are keen on tracking down some valuable heirlooms, a couple of coronation cups, Lucio had given to his wife. Discovery of the cups generates publicity which brings undesirables out of the woodwork. The sub-plot focuses on a couple of Gypsies who exploit, use and abuse all and sundry in order to feather their nests. The cast of characters under their thumbs makes for an interesting mix. Lillian Carrigan gets raped by a man who looks like Chris but it is not him. Twins share the same DNA and tests prove the rapist was not Chris or his supposedly-deceased twin brother. So readers are left to ponder over the resemblance, the rape and the break and entry. The story unfolds in an intriguing and fascinating way. It is loaded with plot twists and surprises. Rene Natan is usually one for happy endings but often it seems like this won’t be one of those time. The theme of twins’strong bond woven throughout and the angst over the missing twin is crafty and clever and keeps everyone on their toes. ---------------------------------------------------------------- Review of Fleeting Visions 5.0 out of 5 stars Got me pinned in the book for hours February 18, 2014 By Earl Reylan Sarsuelo Amazon Verified Purchase All puzzles are getting solved in a very sophisticated manner. Detective Stevenson, a remarkable law enforcer tied up his career to a case he's been handling for several months only to end up doing it all over again after a missed operation. I do not want to be spoiling the readers, but I might say some details that you will find interesting in the book. I got seriously pinned down in to reading the early chapters of the book. Every character has its unique issues and personalities, yet all of them are delivered well to the public. Each plot/scene of one's character is simultaneously telling us his personality and life and his role in the entire story. I consider that as an asset in making books like this very intriguing. Jocelyn, is an example of a highly intimidating character but boosting with charm and is seriously attractive. Det. Stevenson even got his first regrets being single(spoiler alert!) after a scene with Jocelyn. One thing I really love most about these kinds of stories is that the continuity and the interconnection of scenes and events are puzzling enough to be interesting but not reaching to a point where readers dont get any idea over it - they dont get BLANK. Rene Natan wrote this book with ease and the concept is somewhat very clear in her mind. I was envisioning everything as I read. That's why I skipped a meal in reading this(not a good example but a good thing). I am commending the author Rene Natan for a well written, highly thought of, careful selection of characters, and intensifying book. A very good read. I recommend this to lovers of Thriller stories. -------------------------------------------------

Book preview

Chapter One

Life is beautiful, Stephen William Carlton thought as he took the path that wound around the small lake in Prince Albert Park. He loved seeing nature coming back to life, a few tender leaves at a time, an early bird making his mating call with impatience.

In good weather, his mother used to take him here to play on the swings or simply to listen to the twittering and warbling of the birds. With a keen ear for sounds of different pitches, Steve would try to reproduce some of the birds’ songs with his guitar as soon as he was home. It was difficult, but he kept trying until one day his mother said, It isn’t easy to imitate those sounds with a guitar. You need a much better instrument, Steve. She’d caressed his hair and added, Your mother doesn’t have the money to buy you one.

Steve smiled at his memories as he kept walking through the park, which was huge considering that Leesmer, a small, quiet town near Moncton in New Brunswick, boasted only fifteen thousand inhabitants. Steve had just come back from Regina, where he’d completed a training course with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Soon after, he’d applied for a job with the municipal police station. He still wondered why they’d hired him on the spot, since they already had two constables, a sergeant and a chief of police. My lucky streak, he thought with satisfaction.

A plane crossed the airspace, leaving the usual white trail behind it. Steve looked up and stopped for a moment. How much he would like to be up in the air, hovering freely in the sky, flying over mountains and waters…His father was a pilot, and as a child he cherished the dream of following in his steps. It didn’t happen. No regrets, however, since now he had a job he liked that interested him and would allow him to get a place of his own.

He resumed walking and in no time he reached the police station, which was housed in an old building in need of repairs. The parking lot pavement was uneven, the steps leading to the entrance had chunks broken off, and the paint on the walls was peeling off in several spots. The interior, however, had been remodeled recently. Cells, the cafeteria and labs were located in the basement. The main floor hosted the offices: one, small, for each member and all opening onto a common, huge, octagonal area, with a coffee machine in one corner, a fridge and a water fountain in another. The floors were a gray linoleum, the walls an off-white.

As he entered, Carl Atkin, one of the constables, came out of his office and approached Steve.

Lucky son of a gun! Your first day at work and you get a pleasant task. Going to the fanciest place in town to investigate what’s going on.

Oh, and that would be…?

The Tiziano.

***

Veering a flashlight left and right, the hostess guided Steve and Carl to one of the booths, each separated from the next by high-backed seats. The table’s ceramic top was shaped like a painter’s palette; a soft light underneath it brightened smudges of fake paint.

Steve and Carl were both on a mission, undercover. There had been a shootout at the Tiziano Club, and questioning hadn’t shed any light on the incident. Their job was to find out whether anything illegal was taking place at the club. The Tiziano Restaurant, adjoining the bar, had an excellent reputation for food and clientele. The club, recently added, was supposed to serve as a place for the patrons to have a drink while waiting for a table. Some guests, however, lingered all night.

What’s so special about this place, Steve asked Carl, except that it’s so dark you can’t see? I can hardly tell that you’re sitting in front of me.

That’s the idea. Light effects are reserved for the waitresses. Carl lifted a control from the table. On this small panel there are four buttons: white, green, red and blue. When a customer presses a button, a cone of light of the matching color illuminates a girl, who then comes to the table. The beam originates from the ceiling, where the girl’s position is tracked by a sensor. The effect is impressive.

Background music was the only audible noise. Steve wondered what he was supposed to do. Looking around wouldn’t help the investigation; listening to other people talking was impossible.

I’m thirsty, Steve finally said. I’m going to have a Blast-off. I like its taste of rum tempered with triple sec. He pressed the white button, curious to see what would happen.

In a far corner of the room a feminine figure, enveloped in a bright cone of white light, moved toward their table in an unhurried tempo, as if she were walking in a procession. Her silhouette, at first nebulous, took shape as she approached. She wore a short, sleeveless dress with a large scooped neckline. Little golden dots, scattered all over her dark outfit, reflected light in every direction, creating the effect of gold dust. She reached Carl’s side of the table and introduced herself.

I’m April, at your service. Her voice was soft, almost as ethereal as her look.

Two Blast-offs, please, said Carl hastily, looking away from her. Carl had recently married and had been reluctant to participate in the snooping operation. The Tiziano Club was famous for its young, classy-looking waitresses. Judging from first appearances, the club’s reputation was well deserved.

Anything else? April asked.

Not for the moment, thanks, Steve answered.

I’ll be right back. The pool of light holding April moved away as slowly as it had come.

Steve looked around as another waitress triggered a red light on a far-away table. Clearly, the place was trying to attract customers not only with beautiful women, but also with a very fancy setup.

April was soon back with their order, surprising Steve, who spotted her silhouette only when she was very close to the table and had started depositing the drinks. How can you see in the dark? he asked.

The little lights on the floor are enough. One gets used to the dark after a while.

"Well…I can’t see you now," replied Steve. He had to say something to keep the girl around a little longer.

This will help, she said, pressing the white button.

April was a strikingly beautiful creature. Her hair, held at the top, rebounded in curls and ringlets on the upper part of her neck. Her long eyelashes moved up and down rhythmically. Her eyes bent slightly upwards. Their color didn’t come through, unfortunately.

Steve’s own eyes were glued to her. You can’t see me, however, he said finally, just to overcome his embarrassment.

No. She giggled. But I can guess a lot from your voice. You’re an older fellow, twenty-five maybe. She giggled again.

Close enough, said Steve.

Call me again when you need my services, April said and disappeared.

She looks awfully young, commented Carl.

I bet she is barely eighteen.

***

Steve and Carl returned to the Tiziano Club twice. The place appeared to be what it claimed to be: a relaxing spot to have a drink in a pleasant atmosphere. Steve had gathered that April worked there twice a week, but nothing more.

Tonight he was there on his own, alone and for the last time.

April walked up to him in almost total obscurity.

I thought about what you told me, she said in a soft tone. I can hardly see the people I wait on.

We can remedy that, said Steve. You sit next to me and I’ll press the button. Are you always the white light?

Yes. My boss says that I’m the only girl who looks good in that color. April sat so close to him he could feel the warmth of her body and smell her scent.

Steve waited for a while, then turned on the white light.

April looked at him. I was right! You’re a young guy! What are you doing here? Most people are couples waiting to dine or lonely old men.

I just came to check up on you for the last time. I want to be sure you behave.

You’re not coming back?

No.

Leaving town?

Something like that.

Too bad, I got to like you. I thought you came here for me.

In a way, yes. Steve paused for a moment, lost in her beauty. He then said, Do you think this job is appropriate for you? You look quite young. How old are you?

I turned eighteen three months ago. April turned off the light.

Don’t you think that you should be in school?

I am, in the daytime. At night, I work. I need money to go to the Modeling Academy.

I see. Well, I wish you luck.

Thank you. She kissed him lightly on one cheek and disappeared.

Steve walked to his car. He was mesmerized by April’s beauty. Her eyes seemed to caress him when she looked at him. He felt a strange attraction, a desire to get close to her. He’d like to know her, ask her out…She wasn’t an appropriate date for a policeman, though. Steve sat in his car, pondering his dilemma.

Chapter Two

Steve rested on a lawn chair, sipping a bottle of water. He was tired. In the morning he’d installed a new front door and repaired and painted the frames of three windows; in the afternoon he’d chopped wood for hours—creating a good stockpile for the approaching winter. The family house was two-story with burgundy-red brick walls and burgundy-red window frames; the roof was black. Bought just before he was born, the dwelling was a medium-size with two bedrooms, a large kitchen area, a little den and a living room with an old fireplace. The garage was adjoining; the front yard was crossed by a short driveway flanked, on either side, by flower beds and décor stones.

Steve had been away at school for almost two years, and the place needed attention. His mother, Madeleine, had coped well with being alone, relying on hired people or friends for the upkeep. Now that he was back, Steve would spend some time to make sure everything was in good shape. Naturally, his mother was happy to have him back, and she was literally thrilled when she found out that he’d managed to get a job in town. When he’d mentioned his intention to get a little place of his own, she’d been all in favor. You need a bit of freedom if I ever hope to see grandchildren, she had said with an impish smile.

Mother! She would never miss an occasion to stress the importance of having a family!

Steve finished his water and stretched his legs on a nearby clay pot.

Since he’d seen April last, he thought about her often, mesmerized by the recollection of her beauty and the sense of vulnerability she exuded. He wondered why she’d impressed him so much. Until now, women had held a passing role in his life, offering a pleasant and often pleasurable diversion.

The effect April had on him had been different, something he’d never known; it was as if his senses had been abruptly sharpened, almost as if his body had been awakened from a state of torpor.

Daydreaming? a voice said behind him. His mother, gardening tools in her hands, came to sit close to him.

Kind of.

Everything looks like new. She had a satisfied expression. Now I’m going to take care of what has to be done inside.

Anything I can help with?

Oh, no. I can do some painting myself. And I’d like to replace some of the old furniture.

The grandfather clock doesn’t work properly. The chimes are off; they croak. It must be pretty old.

Madeleine laughed. It is; most of what I have in the house was bought when your father and I got married. A long time ago. Madeleine rose. There is a shop not far from here, in Alversteen, I believe, where I could take the clock. It’s called Clocks of the World. I heard they do a good job. For a long moment they rested in companionable silence. Then Madeleine said, Anything exciting at the station?

Not a great deal. No more troubles at the Tiziano Club, but accidents at Sicomore Hotel. The Chief wants to go to the bottom of it. Ah, another piece of information. They may hire an extra person. It would be great—I won’t be the latest newcomer.

Do they treat you well at work? I heard the Chief is a pretty tough guy.

I hear that too, but so far he’s been nice to me.

Madeleine rose. Time to get busy. We need a good supper after all the work we’ve done. She moved away, her steps brisk and secure.

Steve watched her. Medium-height and skinny, Madeleine had an elegant figure; her blond hair framed a face with delicate features.

He’d seen his father only in pictures. He’d died while he was testing a new aircraft. He, Steve, was only two weeks old. His mother often said that the only thing that kept her going was his presence—so much in love was she with her husband. She’d never remarried, and Steve wondered if he was the cause of that. She’d dedicated herself to the upbringing of her offspring. Her job as a part-time teacher at the elementary school allowed her to be home when he came back from school.

A sudden recollection swept his mind. He was fourteen when she asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up. A test pilot, like Dad, he’d replied without hesitation.

He would never forget the icy silence that followed. The next morning he found Madeleine sleeping in the kitchen, her head on the table, the box of Kleenex empty, the wastebasket full.

That day he tiptoed out of the kitchen and quickly left for school. Then, one Sunday, while watching a detective story, he simply said, By the way, Mum, I don’t want to be a pilot—not as a job. It’d be more exciting to be a detective. To be in constant contact with people. He’d prepared that little speech for a full two weeks.

Even today, he doubted his mother believed the sincerity of his statement. However, the subject was never again touched, not even alluded to, in any shape or form. So, Steve was on his way to becoming an investigative policeman. Maybe one day he’d learn to fly.

Chapter Three

In the months that followed April’s image started to fade, even if very slowly. Then one day, as he wandered in the octagonal common area of the police station, Steve saw her waiting to be questioned. He felt a pang. He entered his office and tried to start working. In the corner of his eye he could see the chair where she was sitting. He couldn’t concentrate, however. Was April in trouble? What kind of trouble? Half an hour later he exited and approached Carl. What’s with her? he asked. She’s the waitress we’ve seen at the Tiziano Club.

Yes. She’s suspected to be on the stroll for some time, Carl answered. Today she had sex with a guy in a car. She was seen accepting money. She said the man was a friend of hers—she knew his name—and the man said she never asked for anything. She’s April O’Kelley, eighteen. He’s Greg Greenspan, fifty-seven, married and the owner of a retail store in town. If they push hard enough, they’ll get the truth out of her.

Hmm. I’d like to handle the case, if you don’t mind.

Fine, less work for me.

April O’Kelley was ushered into Steve’s office. He wanted to help her—if she’d let him.

Hi, Ms. O’Kelley, I’m Constable Stephen Carlton. Do you recognize me?

April gave him a quick glance. No, I don’t think we’ve met.

The Tiziano Club, about three months ago.

She looked at him with a strained smile. Now I do.

Tell me what happened.

I don’t want to talk about it. At first she looked around, discreetly, then she stared at the floor and kept silent.

Steve waited a few seconds then said, I’ll let you go—on one condition.

No, was the abrupt answer. She bored her eyes into his.

Steve laughed. "What do you mean no, when you don’t even know what the condition is?"

I can imagine. She lifted her hazel eyes. In a simple skirt and a sweater, without makeup, April appeared even more beautiful than at the club. She sat rigidly in front of Steve, who was sitting on the forward edge of his desk.

What do you imagine?

I have to let you fuck me. Her big eyes flickered from the floor to Steve and back.

For a moment Steve didn’t know what to do or say. He couldn’t come to term with the crude opinion April had of him. When he recovered from the surprise, he leaned toward her and said, Much worse than that! The condition is that you take counseling—my counseling—twice a week, for a full month. A long silence followed, during which Steve saw only incredulity on her face. He should give her time to think about it. I’ll get some coffee, he said. You’ll have to give me an answer by the time I come back.

When Steve returned April looked up at him. I’m not a real hooker. If a man is kind to me, I don’t mind pleasing him. And I leave it up to him to give me money and how much.

Don’t you think that’s a dangerous business?

Not really. I refuse many times, especially when I spot a bully. And I spot them right away.

So I’m a bully— That wasn’t what she’d meant, Steve knew it, but the words were out of his mouth before he could help it.

April retreated right away. When I said no, I didn’t mean…

Steve interrupted her. April, I want to help you. I’m able to do so, and I have no hidden motive. I just think that you deserve better than what you set yourself up to receive. I’d like to speak with your parents to start with.

In an undertone April said, Father disappeared when I was a baby, and Mother went to California with a man two years ago.

This could make his job difficult. Steve slowly finished his coffee. We will meet Tuesdays and Fridays at 5:30 p.m. We’ll get supper then return here. You must tell the truth, and you must listen to me.

To his surprise, April nodded.

Don’t get any wrong ideas. I’m one of the toughest policemen when it comes to applying the law. This is a one time deal. If you blow it, you’ll be alone, and I’ll be the first to have no mercy.

April looked at him without saying a word.

One more thing. We leave sex out of it. In any shape or form. The F word, too. Understood?

April rose, looked intently at Steve and said, I’ll be there, Mr. Carlton.

***

Steve got to know April from what she’d told him, and from the counselors at school. April’s mother, Alma, had married a wannabe actor when she was sixteen, for the simple reason that she was pregnant with his child. The man, however, had left the family soon after April’s birth, leaving Alma with the responsibility of raising the little girl. Alma had passed that job on to her own parents, who were anxious to help. Things had gone smoothly until the death of the grandparents—April was fourteen at that time—when the family situation worsened, since her mother was hardly capable of supporting a family of two. April did all sorts of jobs—mainly housecleaning—like her mother.

When Jacob, a truck driver, came along and offered to take Alma to California, she accepted without hesitation. April was left behind.

Two days after her eighteenth birthday April was hired at the Tiziano Club. The tips were generous; but she had to cope with a temperamental boss, who would fire and rehire a waitress according to his mood and in a matter of hours. It was at the club that April had started to entertain men to augment her income.

Not an unusual story, Steve thought with sadness. He wondered if he really could help her, or if it was a waste of time and effort. He needed to do something drastic, something that could have a strong impact on her and make her change her behavior. Next time, he’ll take her on an educational trip: a visit to a correctional facility.

Chapter Four

At the next counseling session, as April was ready to leave, he told her, Next time, come earlier. Right after school. I want to take you on an educational trip.

Immediately after classes April went to the station. She had been waiting only a few minutes when Steve stepped out of his office and said, Let’s go, I have arranged a visit to the Popham Women’s Penitentiary. He paused. Not a nice sight…but something that will give you an idea where your behavior may lead you. It takes about an hour to drive there.

During the trip April reported on her activities, mostly what happened at school. She was cheerful and loquacious, and her descriptions were vivid.

When they reached the correctional institution, Steve and April got out of the car and cleared security.

The building was old, the space surrounding it small and doubly fenced. Steve and April slowly made their way inside, escorted by two guards. After they’d moved past a set of gates, an officer met Steve at the entrance and said, I’ve been waiting for you, Mr. Carlton. In view of the age of your charge, should we just take the short tour?

No, said Steve. The full tour, please, Jeff.

They went through empty, ghostly corridors; walked along rows of cells with screaming female convicts; visited the first aid section and the desolated, spectral cafeteria with long metal tables and microscopic seats. Toward the end the guide explained the role of solitary confinement and showed Steve and April the vacant cell; it was so dark they had to guess at its interior.

Steve remembered the effect that the first visit to that jail had on him, just a few years back. He wondered whether the sight would be too much for April.

She had been walking close to him, at times brushing his coat. She hadn’t uttered a sound.

An hour later Steve and April were outside again, heading for the car. She had a bad headache, she explained to Steve, and asked him if he could stop at a drugstore.

Steve glanced at her. Look in the glove compartment, April. There is some Tylenol. Take as many as you need. The visit had clearly disturbed her, but that was exactly its purpose—to make her see with her own eyes the consequences of defying the law.

I’ll take four, April said, her voice barely audible.

It’s very late. I’ll drive you home.

***

At their next appointment April was very quiet, barely responding to Steve’s questions. So, you had about a dozen affairs in the last three months and you keep some permanent clients. How many men do you see on a regular basis?

Two. One is a very kind man called Ron Goldberg—not too healthy. I go to see him mainly to keep him company. She stopped, afraid to continue. I have sex with the other. He’s married and his wife won’t do it.

Steve sighed. April, you told me that you want to be a model. Do you realize that you’re building a past that can hound you for the rest of your life? Not to mention the danger of these kinds of relations.

April looked at him blankly.

What you do is against the rules of our society. You saw what we do to people who step outside of the law.

I have seen, said April, tears streaking her face. How can you do that to human beings?

Forget the how. That’s what happens, period. Just remember.

April kept sobbing. I don’t want to depend on men as my mother did, and I don’t want to scrub floors for the rest of my life. What I do is the only way I can think of to get enough money to go to modeling school.

I see, said Steve, putting a box of Kleenex in front of her. Prostitution is against the law, he recited. It consists of soliciting or practicing sex for remuneration—money, that is. Punishable with a minimum of two months and up to two years of imprisonment. Loose association in promiscuous sexual activities is against the moral code. It’s difficult to frequent a decent social environment if you do that. He paused to make his next words more poignant. Finally, women like you are endangering their lives; some customers are weirdos, as you probably know.

April stared at him without saying a single word.

The law, along with morals and safety considerations, suggests you stop what you’re doing. Altogether. Not tomorrow, now! Steve kept his voice low, but firm. He continued, You may have to work harder to save money to go to school, but you’re a talented person. You’ll make it. What you need is to build more confidence in yourself.

I never had anybody speak to me like that. You care for me.

I do. I don’t want you to be as vulnerable as you are now.

What’s vulnerable mean?

When people can hurt you easily. Sometimes, not because they’re better, but just because they have the power to do so. I’d like you to achieve your goals without paying the price your actions will force you to pay.

I’ll think about all you told me. She flickered her slanting eyes onto him. I’d like to have your respect.

Steve felt a warm feeling pervading his entire body. I respect any human being, April. You already have my respect. He embraced her in a passionate glance. You don’t have to work for that. I’d like you to work for yourself, only for yourself. Life didn’t give you supporting and caring parents, so it’s harder for you. But you’re a resourceful young woman, you can make it without throwing yourself away.

The phone rang and Steve grabbed it at the second ring. It was the Chief. I have the report ready. I’ll come right away, he said into the speaker.

I have to leave. See you next week, April. Take care.

***

April was late. Maybe she won’t show up, Steve thought as he patiently waited for her. Maybe her agreeable attitude of the previous weeks was just a mask of convenience…

Finally he heard steps in the hallway and April appeared, books under her arm. Even if she was dressed in a pair of cheap jeans and a faded T-shirt, and her hair was gathered in a ponytail, April’s presence was striking. She wasn’t smiling, though; she wore a worried expression on her face.

Any problem? Steve asked, as he gestured her to a seat.

April slumped in the chair in front of him, her eyes blinking.

There’s this guy—Sean Keeman is his name. Bright fellow. He went to school a lot.

College?

I don’t know. He was the manager of the Tiziano Club. He was the one who hired me. On the spot, two minutes flat. I filled out the application after I was hired.

Steve could very well understand that. She was perfect for the job: beautiful, young, and eager to please.

April was twisting her hands nervously. He was fired two weeks ago. Since then, he’s been coming to the club as a customer. He’s there every evening I work.

So—you’ve an extra admirer. I don’t believe you count them anyhow…it would take too long.

April laughed softly. He waits for me outside. The rule is that we walk to our cars alone and leave right away. The owner enforces this rule. Sean enforced it when he was manager. No exceptions; the penalty is being fired. We can’t pick up men at the club. But Sean—he keeps walking with me, holding my arm and making it difficult for me to enter my car.

Steve looked at April inquisitively.

I know what you think, Mr. Carlton. No, I didn’t have sex with him, not before and not after he was fired. There’s something strange about him. He’s very moody, too.

What does he tell you?

That he’s crazy about me; that he’d do anything to please me.

Did you talk to the management?

Not yet. I feel sorry for the guy. He doesn’t have a job now. And I owe him my job.

Do you know why was he fired?

Not really, but he was hard on us girls. We could be fired today and rehired tomorrow. Some went to complain. He also called us names. April laughed. My English teacher always says I should expand my vocabulary. Well—there I got a chance! When Sean was angry, he would also smash glasses and dishes if we didn’t do exactly as he asked. Iron your dress again. Serve faster. Be more graceful. There was always a negative remark, a different one every time.

An urgent call came in, so Steve waved April a hasty goodbye. Don’t hesitate to talk to the new manager. If that doesn’t work, let me know.

Chapter Five

Steve wasn’t in a hurry to see April again. Her presence had been provoking an awakening of his senses, stronger as the days went by. His main purpose was still to keep her out of trouble, but others thoughts began surfacing; he felt like hugging and kissing her…

Fortunately, there was only one counseling session left. He’d take her out for a nice dinner, then never see her again.

We’re going to celebrate, he said as they sat at a table of the Tiziano Restaurant. "But first, tell me about the old