[March 31, 17:30]
They sat on the park bench, stretching out their tired legs. Upon arriving at Central Park, Don had made a beeline for the zoo. They made it just in time for last admission and spent half an hour doing a lightning quick tour of the animals on display. Since he was the one with the cell phone, Don was in charge of photos. Truth be told, he sucked at it. In their giddy rush to see as much as they could, he mostly forgot about photos and the few he had snapped were blurry. They did manage to get one nice picture though. The zoo had a picture souvenir station in front of the sea lion pool where they posed for a classic we-went-to-the-zoo shot. Don purchased a small print that was tucked in his car's visor for safekeeping, until he could give it to Juliana when he dropped her off at home.
After the zoo closed, they explored the park. Juliana chose their route and he pointed out the popular attractions they passed, statues, fountains, bridges, and castles. Some street performers were out, demonstrating their skills for tips. Their long legs had carried them halfway down the length of the park when she spotted the bench where they now sat. Don nodded in agreement, ready for a rest.
The bench faced a small lake that was spanned by a low green-painted bridge. An occasional ripple disturbed the surface, caused by the local wildlife. The man pulled two white paper bags from his coat pocket. "Triple chocolate for you, chocolate chip for me," he said, handing her her cookie. It was a little beat up from their sprint around the zoo, but one bite confirmed that it tested as good as ever. "That bakery makes the best cookies in Manhattan. My first word was 'cookie'. I would know."
"They must be the largest cookies in Manhattan." It was at least twice the size of the cookies they had seen in the coffee shop. Not that it was a complaint. The more chocolate, the better. She took a bite, letting the three different types of chocolate melt on her tongue. "Mm. Delicious." Juliana leaned back, taking in the scenery. No doubt this place would be much greener in a few months during the height of summer, but the first signs of spring were beautiful all the same. "Thank you for showing me Central Park." Their New Yorker style rush, completely at odds with her usual carefully planned routines, meant they had seen more of the gigantic space than she thought possible. She was tired, but she had to admit she had had fun. Spontaneous, unplanned, impulsive fun. "It's a beautiful place."
"Gotta say, it gets less beautiful with each dead body we find in it," Don said wryly between bites.
"...Dead body?" Murders took place in the world-famous park? Wouldn't you get caught? And well, "Where?" There was so much grass everywhere.
Don cleared his throat and pointed straight ahead. "In that lake."
She stared at him, her cookie halfway raised to her mouth, forgotten. "No..."
"Yup, about 4 years ago."
She felt a strange uneasiness, but also a morbid curiosity. "What happened? If you're allowed to say," she added.
He could picture the peaceful area surrounded by crime scene tape, officers in blue everywhere, a couple guys putting on waders to keep dry while pulling out the body. "Some guys put lobster bisque in the vic's meal to play a prank on him. They knew he was allergic to seafood, but they didn't think it would actually kill him." He shook his head. "He collapsed, and instead of calling 911, they panicked and sunk his body in the lake."
"A prank? That is so... tragic." The last mouthful of chocolate cookie suddenly tasted too sweet.
He sighed and rested his elbows on his knees. "After all these years, I'm still not sure if the accidental murders are worse than the intentional ones." He crumpled the white paper bag in his fist.
"How many years has it been?"
"8 years with homicide this September," the detective realized. "All in all, 12 years with the department." And despite all the horrors he faced every day, he had no desire to leave the force. He really was his father's son.
"A long time. To be seeing the worst side of people," she said softly.
"There are moments that make it worth it. Like a mother saying 'Thank you for finding my son's killer'. Or," he put his hand on her knee, "the very very rare times the victim isn't actually dead," he smiled.
"They said I got lucky," she said pensively.
Don draped his arm on the back of the bench behind her. "And I say that we should stop talking about murder on such a nice Wednesday afternoon." It was a cool, sunny day, and he didn't want to dampen the mood.
"So what should we talk about then?" she asked playfully, leaning back against his arm.
"We could talk about whether or not you like hockey. There's a Rangers game tonight and," he stroked her shoulder, "I'm not in a hurry to go home."
Her eyes went wide. "How could you possibly have known?" Really, it was just unfair!
"You like hockey?" He had lucked out. She was tall, gorgeous, had a cute accent, and liked hockey? God, now he was really kicking himself for not calling her sooner.
"Of course. We used to watch the game on television on my father. Every Friday night." She had learned her first swear words while watching hockey, much to her mother's chagrin. "Is there a sports pub nearby? What time does it start?"
"I can do better than that." Every year, a group of the guys at the precinct pitched in to share a pair of season tickets. He had kept swapping his week with the other guys since he'd been so busy. But this week, the tickets were his. He stood up and offered his hand. "Ever been to a live game?"
"No," she gasped, her face lighting up.
He curled his fingers at her. "C'mon. Puck drops at 7. We're gonna have to hurry if you want to see warm up."
With a brilliant smile, Juliana grabbed his hand and they raced back towards his car.