Chapter 32: Morelli POV (Thursday, October 20th)
I've been in Atlanta for a few months and still can't get over how warm it is. Today is the perfect example. It will be a high in the mid-80s with a partly cloudy sky. And this is normal. Mom told me it was 80 yesterday in Trenton, but by the weekend, it will be more seasonable, with temperatures in the 50s and 60s. Katrina told me that December, January, and February can get cold, usually in the 40s. But for this New Jersey boy, that's nothing. At least I know how to drive in snow if it ever does snow here.
I love my neighborhood. It's quiet, but there are a lot of good restaurants and cafes nearby. I have my favorite coffee shop, sub shop, and even pizzeria. However, the Italian food isn't comparable to the food at home. My apartment does not have a washer or dryer in my unit, and even though there are units in the building, I prefer to use the laundry mat. I've used the building's machines several times, but other residents often use them. I need to take advantage of any downtime with my schedule, so going out is a better option.
I'm off today, as I am every Thursday, so I am heading to clean my clothes. The place I go to has a dry cleaner on the premises, so I can drop off my suits when necessary without making a separate trip. I have my laundry bag in the car and drive, parking in one of the spots towards the back of the lot. I grab my coffee and my two bags and head into the shop. Once there, I find a few machines near each other and sort my clothes: t-shirts, boxers, and socks; shirts and pants; and towels. My bedding goes into a fourth machine. After putting the detergent and coins in the machine, I sit with my book.
I see Jaime enter. He's a junior at the local university who lives off-campus with his older cousin, Jake. We acknowledge each other and will probably start talking in a bit. He's a forensics major, and once he discovered I was a cop, he has been using me to learn more about life in the crime lab. His cousin is a teacher at a local high school. I think he teaches English.
On the other side of the store is Miss Louise. She's an older African American woman who is a retired nurse. She helps to care for her granddaughter when her daughter is working. Her daughter followed in her footsteps and is also a nurse. Finally, I see Bertha, the owner of this facility. She is a tough-as-nails, no-nonsense woman who you don't want to cross, but she has a heart of gold. She said her family has been here since the early 1800s. While her earlier ancestors were plantation owners, her more recent kin have had a penchant for gambling and drinking, which has dwindled any family fortune that existed. I'm not quite sure I believe her, but she's harmless. She wears light brown hair in a twist and always wears jeans and a button-down floral shirt. She has about ten of them. She has lived in Atlanta her whole life. She is my go-to person for getting recommendations for restaurants, stores, or services.
My washers start ding when they are done, so I get up to move my clothes to the dryer. As I toss my towels in one of the larger units, a person I haven't seen before enters. She is about 5'4" and 120 pounds. She has strawberry blonde hair and is fair. I guess she has Irish or Scottish heritage. She's wearing shorts that hit mid-thigh and a loose Braves t-shirt with sneakers. Her long hair is braided. I'm guessing her age is in her early thirties. She is beautiful, and I'm trying not to stare. Finally, after the dryer door hits my head, I return my focus to my laundry, starting the dryers before settling back down in my seat with my book. However, I cannot help but glance at her. She only seems to have women's clothes, though I also see some kids' clothes. I don't see any men's clothing. I look at her hand, and there are no rings. Not that it means anything. Not all women wear the wedding band when doing laundry. Once her machines are up and running, she sits at the table in front of me.
"How is that book? It's on my TBR list, which I'll probably never get to."
It took me a moment to realize the woman was talking to me. I look up and must seem a little out of it. "I'm sorry, did you say something?"
"No, I'm sorry. I asked if that book was good?"
"Oh, yeah, it is. I can't remember the last time I read a book. I'm only on chapter five, but I want to keep reading."
"I didn't mean to interrupt you. I'm sorry."
"Don't be," I reply, placing the book on the table before me. "Have you read any of the other books by this author?"
"Years ago, before Amelia. Since she was born, I haven't had much time to read."
"Oh, you have a daughter? How old is she, if you don't mind me asking."
"She's six. Mia just started kindergarten. She's so excited to be in school."
I smile, noticing how the woman's face lights up when discussing her daughter. "Is Amelia your only child?"
"Yes, she is. I always hoped for a bigger family, but I guess it wasn't in the cards for me," she said, looking out the window and pausing briefly. "My name is Alexandra, but everyone calls me Alli."
"I'm Joseph, but everyone calls me Joe. Nice to meet you," I say, extending my hand to shake hers.
"You must be new to Atlanta. You don't have our southern accent."
I laugh, "You're right. I'm originally from New Jersey. I only moved here a few months ago. I needed a change of scenery. What about you? Are you from Atlanta?"
"Oh no, I'm originally from New Bern, North Carolina. My husband was from Atlanta, which is how I ended up here."
I am disappointed she's married, but I am enjoying the conversation. "What does your husband do?"
She pauses as if trying to decide what she should say. "My husband passed away four and a half years ago. He was killed by a drunk driver on his way home from work. He was a letter carrier."
"I'm sorry to hear that. I hope the other vehicle's driver was caught and put away."
"Yes, he was. The police did a great job finding him and ensuring he paid for his indiscretion. What do you do?"
"I'm a detective with the Atlanta Police Department's Special Victims Unit. I was a Homicide cop in Trenton and worked in Vice before that. What do you do?"
"I'm a colorist, I dye hair."
"Is this your typical day off?"
"Detective, I'm not sure if that's wise to answer," Alli replies, smiling.
"You're right, and I should ask personal questions like that. We are strangers."
"Well, I wouldn't say strangers, but maybe acquaintances."
Before I can respond, my washers ding, indicating my laundry is about done.
"Look, Alli, I don't know many people here. In fact, I only hang out with my coworkers and their spouses. I would like to get to know you better. I typically do my wash this time every week. If you want to get to know me better, you can meet me here, and we can slowly learn more about each other. If you are uninterested, just let me know, and I'll leave you alone."
I take my clothes out and fold them before returning them to the clean laundry bags. My mother always taught me to wash the laundry bags before putting the clean clothes back inside them. In the meantime, Alli has started moving her clothes from the washer to the dryer.
"Okay, I think that's a good compromise. We will meet here, during the day, with other people present. I can handle that. However, do you have a card? I would like to verify some of your information first."
I'm surprised by Alli's request but impressed at the same time. I took out my wallet and handed her a card with my information and cell phone number.
"Joseph Morelli, it was nice to meet you."
"Same here, Alli. No pressure. If I see you here, then I know you're interested. If not, well, I enjoyed our conversation."
After saying goodbye, I gather my laundry bags and book and head out. I hope to see Alli here next week.