Death, Doubt and Denial

An Important Notice to Readers...

     Although this fiction blog is illustrated with photos of dolls, and dollhouse miniatures, the language and content of the storyline is intended for an adult audience.  Please be advised.

Thank You,

The Author

   

Beckett deals with the body

    She stared at her husband as if he had grown two heads.  Just who the hell was this person squating over the dead guy on the floor, going through his pockets?  She had known from the very start that Ted Beckett was edgy.  Someone who didn't seem to play by the same rules.  And maybe that was what had attracted him to her in the first place.  But holy shit!  There was a human being lying six feet away from her with an oozing bullet hole in his forehead, bleeding a river all over the ceramic floor.  And for some odd reason, all she could focus on, was the way the red liquid seeped from the wound, and filled the grout lines of the surrounding tiles.  Suddenly woozy, she lowered herself to the edge of the bed, the cotton sheet still the only article of clothing she wore.

      Pocketing the man's cell phone, Beckett looked up, and noticed that his wife had gone several shades of gray.  "You okay, babe?  Maybe you better lie down, or something."

      The absolute calmness in his voice both shocked and repulsed her.  How could he be so matter of fact about any of this?  After all...he had just shot somebody dead.  In cold blood.   "Of course I'm not okay!  There's...there's a dead man on the floor of our...our...", she waved her arm to indicate the space around her, "whatever the hell you want to call this place.  Dead because you shot him!  Right in the frickin' head!  Are you some kind of unfeeling psychopath, Ted?  How could I be anything but totally freaked out?"

        Beckett stuck Arroyo's semi-automatic into the waistband of his boxers, and crossed the floor to sit next to her on the bed.  He attempted to put his arm around her, but she gave him a hard shove and scooted to the far end of the bed.  The negative contact earned her one of his "looks", which caused funny feelings in her stomach, and regions much further south.  She found her self moving back towards him, embarrassed over the amount of control he seemed to have over her without much effort.

       Wrapping both hands around her smaller ones, he lowered his voice, serious, but calm.  "Look, baby...I'm truly sorry about dragging you into all of this.  I should have never agreed to take this drop on.  But what's done is done.  Now, I need for you to be brave, and do as I say, alright?"

       Maureen could only nod her head in agreement, unsure that any words would come out even if she could happen to think of any that suited the moment.  He kissed the top of her head.  "That's my good girl.  I promise...I'll get us safely out of here, and then we'll have a real honeymoon.  Anywhere you want to go.  Paris...Rome...the South Seas...you just name it, baby.  I swear I'll make it happen."

       Finding her tongue, she pulled her hands reluctantly away.  "Do you mean that, Ted?  Anywhere?"

       He grinned that boy smile, and made a large X across his chest.  "Cross my heart, and hope to die."
Seeing her face, and the look she gave the body on the floor, he quickly added.  "Bad choice of words, sweetheart.  Still, I give you my word.  Anywhere.  Anything."

      "Then I just want to go home.  Back to Dollyville.  Back to the apartment."

      "The apartment?"

      "Yes...my flat over the deli.  We were happy there.  Truly and gloriously happy.  You said so your self.  It was like our own secret hideaway."

        He made an odd face, and thought awhile before answering.  "I'm offering you carte blanche...anywhere in the world, and you choose your one room flat over a grocery store?"  He shook his head in wonderment.  "You are a complicated woman, Mrs. Beckett.  If that's what you want, then you shall have it.  I suppose we'll need somewhere to stay while I see to the rebuilding of the house, and the apartment is as good a place as any.  More so if it makes you that happy.  Home it shall be then.  He grinned again, this time not boyish in the least.  "We'll closet ourselves up there so long, they'll send out the authorities for a wellness check"

        She threw herself at him, the sheet sliding off, and ending up in a heap on the floor.  That reaction might have led to greater things, except for the fact that the lost sheet was busy soaking up the growing puddle of blood on the floor, bringing reality to the forefront.  Beckett sighed, and pushed away from his bride.  "You are ever the temptation, baby.  But we do need to get the hell out of here...ASAP.  If you think you're up to it, I could use a hand.  Once you put on some clothes, that is.  Naked like that, you are a huge distraction."

       Maureen slid off the bed, rummaging around for her clothes from the day before.  "Help you with what, Hon?"

      "I have to get rid of the body.  If his people come looking for him, I don't want them to know he's dead, or that we've escaped.  That will give us some extra time to make our exit."

       She stopped dead in her tracks, the sun dress over her head, but not fully on.  "You want me to...to touch the dead guy?  With my bare hands?"

      "Well, not quite with your bare hands.  I'm gonna roll him up in that rug.  That will make it easier...and less messy...to move him.  Once we get him all wrapped up, I can dump the body in one of those ravines in back of the building.  We can make it look like he got to us first, then take his jeep to make our get away."

      "Do you really think that will work?"

       "Not entirely.  When they can't reach him by cell phone, they'll send out someone to check on things here.  Eventually they'll start searching, and find the body.   But by then, I hope to be long gone."

       "So...just how are we getting home, Ted?  We can't just drive there."

       I'm workn' on that sweetheart.  But first things first.  I really need for you to hold the end of this rug, while I roll it around him.  Do you think you can do that?"

___________________________________
               

The train station in Dollyville

        Fr. Kevin had every intention of going in full "Pastor" mode to Boston.  Black dress pants and jacket, black shirt with Roman collar, and his best black dress shoes.  But the day had dawned hot and humid, with temperatures hovering in the upper 80's by 8:00 AM.  It was all he could do to get through Mass with the heavy vestments, and by its end, he was a sweaty mess.  There was absolutely no way he wanted to spend the day walking the streets of a sweltering city in head to toe sauna suit.  Digging through his closet, he decided on a pair of khaki's, a short sleeved polo shirt, and his favorite loafers, sans socks.  It felt both odd, and strangely liberating, to be out and about in such civilian clothes.  Granted, when he was at home in the rectory, he was pretty laid back in his apparel, favoring jeans and old, worn T-shirts.  But when he ventured out in the public eye, he was careful to look "the part", fearful people would not take him seriously without the church trappings.  Today's adventure, however, called for comfort over ceremony, and he left the church grounds feeling both cooler, and a lot more relaxed.

     All the fussing with his clothes had taken more time than anticipated, and by the time he arrived at the station, most of the passengers had already boarded.  Roxanne was still outside, her face showing a great sense of relief when she finally caught sight of him.

       "I was starting to get worried that you had changed your mind, Kev."

       "Sorry I'm late.  I decided to change into something cooler after Mass.  They're predicting highs in the mid 90's today, so I needed something more comfortable."

        "Yeah, I almost didn't recognize you without the funeral suit."  She smiled, signaling her words were only in jest.  "You look very nice, as a matter of fact.  That green shirt really matches your eyes."

        All this talk about his appearance, and shirts matching eyes, caused Fr. Kevin to blush a deep pink color, and left him stammering.  ""Uhmmm...ahhh...thanks.  Well, we better get ourselves on board.  I'm sure they'll be leaving shortly." He turned to pull her by the arm, then thought better of it, and slipped through the open doors, leaving Roxanne to follow behind him.

        As usual for this time of the day, the train was crowded with passengers heading to the city, as well as the Cape.  There were several large family groups obviously on their way to seaside vacations,  traveling with buckets and bags filled with beach necessities.   A Cape Cod destination made him think of Maureen, and he wondered, not for the first time, where she was at, and how she faring. He still had not heard a single word from her since the day she disappeared with her new husband, and despite the insistence of his family that she was in capable hands, he continued to worry.

       But at this very moment, what he needed to find was a seat.  It appeared his delayed arrival at the station had put the two of them in a hunt for a pair of seats together.  They had just about resigned themselves to sitting in two different cars, when a high pitched voice offered them an option.

       "You who...you there...man in the green shirt.  My husband can move over next to me, and the two of you can have his seat."  The voice came from an elderly woman, dressed in a loud sun dress, head encased in a huge pink beach hat.  "Morty...you come sit next me, and give this nice couple the bench seat."  The afore mentioned Morty looked up from his newspaper, and sighing, complied with his lady's demands.  "Go ahead...you two sit there." She pointed to the seat across from her.

        Before he could insist otherwise, Roxanne slid onto the bench and padded the seat next to her.  "Here Kev, take a load off."  Turning to the woman, she added, "Thanks so much.  I was afraid we'd have to split up."

         "No problem, sweetie.  I'd hate to see such a nice couple apart."  Nudging her husband in the ribs, she added, "Aren't they a cute couple, Morty.  I remember when we were young like that, and in love.  Such happy times."

         At the mention of the word love, Fr. Kevin froze, while next to him Roxanne hid a giggle behind her hand.  Kevin slid into the furthest corner of the seat, leaving a sizeable gap between he and Roxie.  Feeling as if he needed to clarify the situation, he explained, "We're not really a couple, mam.  We're...uhmm....I'm a..."

         Before he could stammer out the words, Roxanne spoke up.  "We're just friends.  Old friends."
She smiled sweetly at the woman, and added, "We've known each other since we were kids."

         The woman smiled back.  "Friends first is good."  Giving her husband another poke, she asked him, "Remember when we were friends, Morty?  The good times we had."  Morty grunted from behind his paper, neither confirming or disagreeing with her version of their story.  Then the woman turned toward Kevin, and wagged an arthritic finger at him.  "Friends are good young man.  But she isn't going to wait forever for you to make up your mind.  Anybody can see the two of you were made for each other."

         From his spot across from her, Fr. Kevin smiled sickly, and began to sweat.


Copyright  2014 Victoria T. Rocus
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