Games People Play

Maureen has a plan

 
      He could tell something was wrong even before he returned home.  Beckett had sent Maureen a text message on his way to the station house, and at that point, she had immediately answered. It was the same with the message he'd sent 20 minutes later.  But after those two contacts, he hadn't heard from her at all.  Not a word.  He considered that maybe she had dozed off on his sofa, but eventually dismissed that thought.  She had been much too ill at ease to relax in such a manner.  And though it was possible she had just missed hearing the notifications of four incoming messages, or the three calls that went to voicemail, it was highly unlikely.  She had access to that iphone every waking minute, going as far as to keep it on her nightstand when she went to sleep.  He very much doubted that she had placed it anywhere out of hearing distance, unless on purpose.

       When he finally made it back to the house on Maple Avenue, he called out to her as he unlocked the front door, only to have silence answer him back.  He walked through the parlor into the kitchen, and noticed a small piece of paper lying on the granite counter top, a fridge magnet next to it.  Quickly reading through the note from Helen Burke, his housekeeper, he swore under his breath.  The kitchen door to the basement was open, as well as the one to the Red Room, and he knew in that instant, what had transpired.

                      ________________________________________

        It was a quarter to midnight when the last movie ended.  She wandered out to the lobby, and found herself one of a handful of people still in the theater.  The teenage staff was scurrying about, working quickly to close up, and be on their way.  Although she was bleary eyed from sitting in the dark, and staring at a lit screen for near seven hours, the closing of the place left her with nowhere else to go.  She had seen a pub a few blocks away on her bus trip over, but the idea of walking into the place unescorted, this late on a Saturday night, made her nervous.  She was out of options, and determined that going back to her flat was probably the sanest plan.  If she were lucky, Ted had tired of waiting for her to return, and had gone back home.  Once he figured out how she had snooped in his personal affairs, he probably had no intention of ever seeing her again.  The thought made her eyes sting, but this very minute, her focus needed to be on the task of getting safely home.

        She pushed through the glass doors of the movie theater, and into the frigid cold.  The temperature had dropped several degrees since earlier that evening, and she shivered, both from cold, and the fear of being alone.  Walking down to the bus stop, she was careful to stand under the round beam of light thrown from the street lamp.  There were only a few cars left in the parking lot, and only a small mix of people exiting from the same doors she had just come from.  Most of them never gave her a second glance, except for the two men, both in their late twenties, who came strolling toward her, hands in their pockets, and caps pulled low over their brows.  They stood behind her for a few seconds, just watching, until the taller of the two moved forward and spoke to her.

       "Give you a lift, sweetheart?"

        Maureen shifted from one foot to another, working hard at appearing calm.  "Um...no thank you.  I'm waiting for my...um...my boyfriend to bring the car around."

        His buddy moved closer, and stood on the other side of Maureen, squeezing her between his friend and himself. "Gee...and here we thought you was waiting for the bus.  You look real cold.  Maybe we can keep you warm until your boyfriend gets here."

      Her heart caught in her throat, and she frantically tried to remember any of what Ted had tried to teach her about escaping.  Before she could formulate a single thought, a low voice came out of the dark from behind the three of them.

      "Is there a problem here, gentlemen?"  The light caught the left side of his face, and he looked  pissed.  Very pissed.

      The buddy grabbed her arm, and pulled her closer.  "Beat it, pal.  We got it covered."

      Ted pulled back his jacket, letting the ray of light from the street lamp hit the shield at his waist, and the huge Glock in its shoulder holster.  "I disagree."  He practically growled the words, and took a step closer to where the three of them stood.

       The tall man stepped back, putting his hands in the air in a show of surrender.  "We're not looking for any trouble, Officer.  Just thought we'd help the lady out."

        Beckett stared at the tall guy's friend, watching as he took his hand off Maureen's arm.  "Yeah...well, looks like I've got that covered now. "  He reached forward, and pulled Maureen next to him, none too gently.  "Move along.  Party's over."

      The pair shuffled away, muttering under their breath.  Ted abruptly turned, his hand wrapping her wrist, and pulled her around the corner of the building, to where the Mustang was parked.

      "Look...I didn't..."

       "Just get in the damn car, Maureen."  Not wanting to face him, she moved toward the back seat,  but he quickly stepped in front of her, and motioned to the front.  "I don't want to have to talk to the rear view mirror."

        She slid into the front seat with a loud "tisk" of annoyance, an act of false bravado on her part.  Her nose was running from the cold, and her heart was still beating hard from the scene in front of theater.  She tried not to think of what might have happened if he hadn't shown up, and worried about what she'd say now that he had.

     Beckett's plan had been to speak calmly and plainly, like a rational human being.  But there was something about the tiny red head that got under his skin, and caused his control to falter.  She seemed so small sitting there, her body pushed up against the passenger door, skin paler than than the snow swirling outside the car, her eyes round pools of emerald green.  He wanted to pull her into his arms and comfort her.  Tell her it would be okay.  That they'd work it out.  But his pride wouldn't allow it.  She had run out on him.  Just like the other.  Without a word of explanation.  Without a chance to talk things over.  He started the engine, and spoke.  "Just what the hell did you think you were doing?"

       "I...was waiting for the bus.  I would've been fine too, if those two assholes hadn't started hassling me."

        "You would've been waiting for that damn bus until tomorrow morning, because the last run is at 10:00 PM, and it's almost 1:00 AM now.  Didn't you bother to check the sign at the stop?"

       Embarrassed, because she hadn't actually bothered to check, and being as inherently stubborn as he was, she refused to acknowledge the fact that he had probably just saved her sorry ass from God knows what.  With her chin stuck out in defiance, she answered.  "I didn't think to look.  I was too busy... trying to run from my ex-boyfriend...the liar."  She thought she saw him flinch, but then, maybe it was wishful  thinking.  "How did you find me, anyway?"

       He grunted, obviously a sign of his dismissal at her subterfuge. "It wasn't all that hard.  Followed your footprints in the snow right out the front door, and down the street to the bus stop.  They stopped there, so I guessed that you had gotten on the bus.  I followed the route, checking in at the only businesses still open along it.  The movie theater made the most sense, as it was opened the latest.  I showed your photo to the ticket seller, and he said he recalled seeing you, but didn't remember what movie you were seeing.  Damned if I was gonna stumble around in the dark trying to find you.  I figure you'd have to come out eventually, so I sat in the lobby and waited."

        The idea that he might have been there the whole time, made her both uneasy, and pleased, at the same time.    "How long were you there?"

        "Long enough to be thoroughly aggravated."

         They drove in silence, until when, at a stoplight, he turned to her, stone faced and asked, "In what way am I a liar?  If anything, I'm guilty only of the sin of omission."

        "Omission?  Is that what you think that was?  Gimme a break!  You should have told me you were some kind of freak...before we got involved."  This time she was sure she saw a reaction in his  poker face, but somehow, it didn't make her feel victorious. Just sad.  She wanted him to rail, to swear, to explain about the paintings, to tell her she was special to him.  He did none of those things.  Instead, he drove on, eyes on the road, his lips a tight line across his face, and a furrow between his brows.

         Nothing more was said.  He pulled the car up in front of the deli, and putting it park, they sat in strained silence for what seemed like an eternity, but in reality, was only a minute or two.  He spoke first, his face masked and cold.  "I guess this is good bye then."

       She could only nod, her throat too tight to push any words out.  She opened the car door, stopped a moment to say something, and then changed her mind.  From the car, he watched until she was safely inside the building, and then drove off.  She made it all the way to the top of the stairs before the tears came in great, heaving sobs.

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        And so it went for nearly two weeks.  Both of them miserable, distracted, and short tempered.
At the station house, everyone worked at keeping safely out of the Sheriff's way.  He snapped at his deputies, made the secretary cry, and fired a guy on the maintenance staff.  No one in his work circle felt they knew Beckett well enough to ask what was wrong, and no one was willing to risk speaking to  him.  He kept the door closed, came and went without a greeting of any kind, and when it was necessary to ask him a question, the answer came in terse mono-syllables.

       The housekeeper received a snotty lecture about leaving information such as that on the fridge, and the ensuing argument between them almost cost him her services.  But Helen knew him better than anyone in town, was responsible, trustworthy, and loyal, and so he was required to pull in his claws, and apologize for his nasty attitude.

       Things were no better across town at Schiller's deli, or the apartment above it. Maureen walked around with constant puffy eyes and a red nose, and had taken to sleeping with Betsy, Basil and an old dress shirt Beckett had left in her bathroom.  She had almost called him a dozen times.  Thought about sending a text message.  Considered a greeting card.  But none of these ideas came to any fruition.  Hallmark just didn't make a card that expressed one's ambivalent feelings towards a kinky ex-lover.  Fact was, Maureen wasn't even sure how she felt about any of what had happened.

      She had, in all truth, snooped.  Seeing the note on the fridge might have been an accident, but her picking the lock on the door was a conscious decision to invade his privacy.  Then, she had left without even talking to him about her issues.  Never gave him the opportunity to explain, or deny.  And until that moment in the basement, she had always found him to be honest to a fault.  Almost blunt in his answers to her questions.

       Of course, it was pretty hard to deny what she had seen with her own eyes.  It wasn't as if she were ridiculously naive, or hadn't heard of any of that stuff before.  Her old room mate in Boston had been into the alternative life style scene, and she had seemed normal enough, except for the fact she claimed to enjoy being spanked.  But what wasn't normal, was having naked paintings of your former lovers on display.  Paintings that revealed a whole freaky side of yourself.  If she was sure of anything, it was that there was no way she was going to become Tied Up, Naked Lady #7, hanging on the wall in that wretched room.

      She spent her days going through the motions of her routine with a heavy sense of sadness, and those closest to her noticed the change.  Kevin had tried to be supportive, visiting her in the evening, and inviting her to dinner several times over the two weeks.  Maureen had confessed early on that she and Beckett were no longer a couple, but gave no information as to why that was.  Her brother politely avoiding prying, but she sensed that he was less than heartbroken over the turn of events.

       Her long face, and quiet behavior, so different from the norm, was also noticed by the astute Mrs. Schiller.  She was the first one to bring up Beckett's name as they restocked the shelves in the small deli, asking about his whereabouts, and commenting how it had been awhile since he'd been in the store.

       The last thing she wanted to do was discuss the loss of Ted, but the woman was relentless.  After much prodding, she finally explained how they had broken up, leaving out any of the essential parts about the room in the basement.

         The old woman nodded her head in sympathy.  "You poor dear.  That's such a shame.  You made  a  real cute couple.  But don't be hard on yourself, sweetie.  That man's gonna be hard to pin down.  So charming and handsome, that one.  Sampled half the women in this town.  He's gonna hold out as long as he can, and it's gonna take one hell of a woman to snap him up."  She gave the girl a small pat on the back, and went back to her work.

       Instead of being consoled by her boss's words, Maureen was insulted.  Why didn't the woman think she could be the one to "snap him up"?  It was obvious that Ted found her attractive.  No doubt there.  None at all.  Hell, he couldn't seem to keep his hands off her.  In addition, she was fun to be with.  He said so himself.  Smart too.  Needing to defend her reputation as a desirable female, she continued the conversation.  "It wasn't like that, Mrs. Schiller.  I broke it off with him.  We just had totally different personalities.  I wish it would've worked out, but it didn't."

      From behind a stack of fresh produce, the elderly woman nodded, a polite smile of non belief on her face, as she stacked the heads of lettuce in a neat pyramid pile.  When she thought more about it, Maureen couldn't say for sure who dumped who.  Maybe it was a mutual decision?  Or maybe she had taken Ted's "goodbye" the wrong way?  What was clear in her mind, was the fact that she had run like a scared rabbit.  Just like Boston.  Gave up, and went down without a fight.

       Ted made her happy, and it was clear she miserable without him.  So why couldn't she change her own fate, and Beckett's as well?  No reason at all.  And amid the the ripe tomatoes, and fresh green beans, Maureen O'Kenny came up with a plan.

               _________________________________________________

        It was close to 5:00 PM, and the Sheriff was on his way out.  It was another long day, with too much paper work, and too little action to free his mind.   He desired only to escape the confines of the station house without the need for communication, so the appearance of his secretary at his door was more than a little annoying.

        Hesitantly, the woman stood in the doorway, a yellow slip in her hand.  "Sheriff...this just came in over dispatch.  It's a  B and E with assault."

         "I'm on my way out, Grace.  Already out of uniform, with plans for the evening. Turn it over to Sykes."

          Grace looked nervous, and wrung her hands before continuing.  "I think you'll want to take this one yourself, Sir.  It's Miss O'Kenney."

           Beckett felt his chest constrict.  Maureen?  Damn it!  He grabbed the slip from the woman.  "How long ago did this come in, Grace?"

           "Two minutes, Sir.  I came to find you right away."

            He nodded his thanks, and raced out to his patrol car.  With sirens blaring, and speeding all the way, his brain would only allow for worst case scenerios.  He swore under his breath at the thought that he hadn't changed the locks on her doors like he had planned, that he hadn't pushed her training harder, and that he was to blame for any injuries she had sustained.  Thoughts of Marzano and Cassie hit him like a mallet to his head, and he increased his speed, wondering if he should have called for an ambulance to meet him there.

       Beckett slammed the car into the curb in front of the old building.  All was quiet in the store, and he took the stairs to her apartment two at a time, calling to her as he did so.   "Maureen!  You up there, babe?  Say something, hon!"

        "I'm here."

Beckett comes to the rescue...again

           
        She stood in the kitchen area, leaning against the sink, and looking...well terrific.  "Maureen, are you alright?"  Overwhelmed with relief that she appeared perfectly fine, it took a second or so for him to realize that so did the apartment.  Not a thing in the room was out of order, not a hair on her head was out of place.  Realization of what was going on hit him squarely in the face.  Incredulously, he could only stare and ask, "You called in a false report?"

      Maureen hesitantly shook her head yes, not sure yet as to how he would react.

      Blinking, the anger in his blues eyes readily apparent, he ran a hand through his hair, and then pulled her away from the sink. "Damn it, Maureen.  What the hell would make you do something this stupid?  Do you realize that calling in a false report is against the law?  Not to mention how worried I'd be on the way over here?  What a shitty, underhanded thing to do!"

     Her lower lip trembled, and he almost weakened.   But then he saw her stick out her chin, and narrow her eyes, and he pulled up his guard.

      "I didn't totally lie, you know."  She stuck her hands on her hips to further prove her stand.  "Theft and assault did take place here."

      "Oh, really?  You're gonna have to explain that one, darlin', 'cause from where I'm standing, you appear to be nothing more than a conniving, little brat.  One who most decisively broke the law."

        He could see her sway a bit, and he thought maybe she was ready for the tears.  But instead, she pulled back her shoulders and stuck out her lip in a full pout.  Beckett admired the fire in her.  There was no doubt she looked incredibly sexy.  Deliciously, and wonderfully so. But there was no damn way he was going to let her top him.  Not now. Not ever.  He crossed his arms, and stared right back at her.  "Go ahead.  Let's hear it."

       The first few words came out in a stutter, but there was no backing down.  "You're the thief, Ted Beckett.  It was you. You stole my heart, and then you broke it."

      It was so not what he was expecting, that for a second, he was at a loss for words.  Then, she stuck out her wrists in front of him, all pale, creamy skin, her pulse jumping at the vein.

     "That's the way I feel, Beckett. I trusted you with my heart, and you trampled on it.  So if you want to arrest me for something that's entirely your fault, then you go right ahead."

     She should have thought twice about offering up her wrists, knowing what she did about Beckett's darker side  But caught up in her plan to try and "fix" things, she wasn't thinking clearly, and when he smiled at her, she was far too busy congratulating herself to worry.

    With his right foot, he kicked the chair away from the table, and grabbing her wrists, pulled her closer.  She held her breath, losing herself in his eyes, and waiting for him to kiss her.  When, instead, he ran his hands up her arms, and gently pushed her into the chair, she was a bit confused, but certainly not concerned.  In fact, it wasn't until he pulled her wrists behind her, and she felt the cold metal, and heard the snap of the lock, that a wedge of anxiety set in.  Tugging her arms, she was shocked to find herself snuggly handcuffed to her kitchen chair.

    "What the hell are you doing, Ted?  You let me go right this minute!" She wiggled her hands, trying to pull them away from the back of the chair, and slamming them against the wooden slats.

     His response to her fussing was to pick her up, chair and all, and place it smack in the center of the apartment.  He set her down, and she immediately lifted her legs to try and kick him, but he anticipated her move, and caught her ankles between his hands.

     "Don't you dare try to kick me.  Stop it right now, or I'll zip tie your ankles as well."

     In frustration, she slammed her feet on the floor, and screeched her anger.  "You undo me right now, Beckett!  Who do you think you are?  I'm not one of your damn"tie-up" women."

     "And just what exactly are you to me, Maureen O'Kenney?"  He leaned down, hands on her thighs, his eyes looking into hers.

      Embarrassed, confused, and flushed, she had nothing to say, and looked at the floor instead.

     "That's what I thought."  He sighed, and stood upright.  "I think I'll give you some time to think about what it is you really want... and myself time to figure out why I shouldn't just drag your pretty, little ass off to jail."

       The sun had set, and the room was growing gloomy in the dark.  He turned on the small lamp on the bureau, and without any other fanfare, made his way down the stairs.  He could hear her yelling and banging all the way down.

       "Damn it, Beckett.   You kinky bastard!  Let me go, or else!  When I get free, I'm going to kick your freaky ass.  You come back here right now.  You can't leave me like this!"

        He chuckled at the bottom of the stairs, and locked the door behind him.

Games people play

       
            Copyright 2013 Victoria T. Rocus
            All Rights Reserved

     

 





       




       

   

     

       

   

Bad Romance

Maureen suffers through Beckett's lessons in self defense

    For the next several weeks, Beckett and Maureen lived in the land of new relationship paradise.  The flat above the deli acted as a cozy cocoon, isolated from the rigors of the real world, and a place where the focus could remain on their exploration of each other.  She cooked fabulous meals, wore flimsy lingerie, and hung on every word he said.  He covered her apartment in fresh flowers, gave long massages with scented oil, and said pretty things in several different languages.  Their time together was like something out of a dreamy romance novel.  The stuff fantasies are made of.

   Unfortunately, life has a way of reminding each and everyone of us, that fairy tales are simply make believe.  Dollyville was a very ordinary town in southeastern Massachusetts, and Ted and Maureen were very real human beings.  It wasn't long before reality creeped into their perfect world like a stray dog scratching at the door.  Little things that originally seemed so charming, now caused slight tickles of annoyance.

    What had first drawn Maureen to Beckett, besides the fact that he was devastatingly handsome, was the masculine, "take charge" aura that he presented to the world.  When he walked into a room, people noticed, and if he gave an order, it was followed.  This seemed undeniably sexy from afar, but living with it up close and personal was a different story.  She had grown up in the shadow of seven brothers, so she was used to being unheard and outvoted, but Ted's bossiness took this issue to a new level.

     It began the evening she came home to find a very large flat screen TV mounted on the wall facing her bed.  The very same wall she had hoped to hang some pretty botanical prints, and an antique mirror, when she happened to discover them in her thrifting adventures.  He had expected her to be excited about his gift of the latest in digital technology, and was obviously disappointed when she didn't gush.  He had offered to remove it, but seeing the annoyed look on his face, she waved the white flag, and the big, ugly thing stayed right where it was.

    On another occasion, he spent an entire Saturday morning re-arranging her kitchen cabinets to what he claimed was "higher efficiency".  Being that she was the one who did all the cooking, she felt it was rather presumptuous of him to decide what worked better for her, and when he wasn't around, she moved everything back to the way it was.  He noticed the change a few days later, letting his displeasure be known for several hours, and when she couldn't find a certain saute pan she needed to finish dinner, he sat at the table and gloated.

    But the worst of all, was his decision that she was in need of some basic instruction in self defense.  She had grown up on the streets of inner city Boston, and had never once needed to defend herself.  She sincerely doubted that moving to the small, sleepy town of Dollyville increased her risk of personal attack, especially since she spent most of her time in the company of the community's Sheriff.  But he would not be swayed to her way of thinking, and she found herself helping him move all of furniture aside so he could begin her training.

     Initially, she thought the whole experience might be rather fun.  The thought of wrestling around, and having him pin her to the floor, sounded uber sexy, and he looked crazy hot wearing only a pair of nylon athletic pants.  But it was clear in the first five minutes that he had absolutely no ideas of romance in mind.  He was all business, pushing and prodding her until she was out of breath, and covered in nasty, purple bruises.  She might've swallowed all of this without a word, if he hadn't begun "tisking" in disgust when she got it wrong, or patting her on the head, saying "good girl", when she pleased him with her success. It made her feel as if she were the family pet, and not his significant other.

     So, when the opportunity arose to use one of his techniques to take a free, open kick, she swung around and caught him squarely in the groin.  That was the end of the lessons for the rest of the evening, and pretty much everything else.  Though she publicly offered him showers of remorse, she secretly congratulated herself for terminating any future instructions.  But to her complete shock, he was right back at it the following night, working her doubly hard, showing absolutely no mercy, and then making her go on a three mile run with him afterwards.  Needless to say, she thought twice about taking any additional cheap shots at his male anatomy.

      Still, it would be unfair to place the blame entirely on Ted alone.  He was wild about her.  Have no doubt of that.  He found her beautiful, smart and funny, and couldn't deny that there was a very real connection between the two of them.  So, maybe it was because he was ten years older than she, that he often felt as if they were on different planes of the universe.  It might have also been his military training, or the kinky side that refused to stay buried. Whatever the reasoning, there were certain things about the lovely Maureen that set his teeth on edge.

    For one, she had to be the most disorganized person he had ever had the occasion to spend a serious amount of time with.  She was constantly opening drawers and cabinets around the flat, and then would  forget to close them.  He couldn't count the times he had banged his shin on the opened lower drawer of the bathroom vanity, or caught the top of his head on a cabinet door that wasn't completely shut.  And every morning, he was forced to watch her forage through the tiny closet for something to wear to work, dragging out several pieces, trying them all on, and then discarding most of them in a pile at the end of the bed, rather than hanging them back up.  When he had suggested that she might decide the night before what she wanted to wear, she looked at him as if he were crazy, explaining that she wasn't sure what type of mood she might be in when she awoke.  This, to him, made no sense at all.

Maureen's morning routine drives Beckett crazy

   Then, there was her reluctance to take the self defense training he was providing with any level of seriousness.  When it came to personal safety, he found her ridiculously naive.  She would repeatedly leave her doors unlocked, went for walks alone at night with headphones stuck in her ears, and gave out way too much information on Facebook for his liking.  With the knowledge that both Cassie and Marzano were still floating around, and knowing that he might at any given time be sent out of the country for extended periods of time, he was adamant about her at least being aware of the less than savory elements surrounding her world.  It was his plan to eventually teach her how to handle a weapon, but until then, he wanted her to have, at the very least, the ability to escape a bad situation, or    some extra minutes to seek help.

    Lastly, although it made him sound rather self-centered and rude, he was sick to death of her tiny, one room apartment.  Tired of a shower that didn't allow him to completely rinse off.  Disgusted by the cloudy water from the kitchen faucet.  Uncomfortable sleeping on an angle in the too short bed.  He simply missed his own home.  Missed his studio.  Missed his dog.  Missed his bed.

     The weeks together in her flat had been sexy as hell.  Isolated from the day to day grind, it had seemed like a lover's secret hideaway.  But if the relationship was heading toward anything more remotely permanent, she needed to share more of his personal life, including spending time in his home.  He knew broaching the subject would difficult.  Maureen viewed his abode as the evil place where he and Cassie had spent time together as a couple, even though she had been gone for nearly three months, and he'd wiped virtually every trace of her from the building.  He wanted to change that picture in her mind.  Make memories there that would be special to her alone, with the hope that she would eventually agree to move in with him, and give up life in the flat above the deli.

      There were things about him of which she had no clue, and he'd have to tread carefully to avoid her fleeing in a panic.  With time, he believed she'd be able to accept him as he was, but if he'd known in advance how things would turn out during that first visit, he might have gone a different route, and waited a bit longer before pushing the issue.  As it was, it took several intense conversations, and a whole lot of promises, to get her to agree to spend the following Saturday and Sunday with him at his place.

                   _______________________________________________

       Beckett thought he had covered all the bases.  He gave the housekeeper the weekend off, kenneled the dog, emptied space in the closets and drawers for her things, and ordered all new, luxurious bedding.  He had no reason to check the fridge, as he never did the shopping, and that was, unfortunately, where the problems began.

     On Saturday morning, Ted could sense that she was apprehensive, and not entirely sold on the whole idea.   Her only other visit to the house on Maple Avenue had been that hellish engagement party Cassie had insisted on hosting, and that had not been a pleasant memory maker.  He decided to ease into the whole day, and began by taking her to breakfast at her favorite diner, followed by several hours of antiquing along the Cape.  When they finally arrived back at his house, it was nearly 4:00 PM, and she was in a jovial mood, having found a few vintage treasures, that to him, looked like old junk.

     He took her coat and bag, and then proceeded to give her a tour of the place, carefully avoiding anything below the main floor.  She nodded her way through the parlor, his home office and the weight room, and turned several shades of pink over his bedroom, and the enormous platform bed the size of a small football field.  Lastly, he walked her to his studio, a loft type area on the third floor that boasted an immense skylight, and several floor to ceiling windows offering a gorgeous view of the wooded area south of town.  Beckett had never mentioned to her before this moment that he painted, so to say that she was surprised, was putting it mildly.


    "Oh, Ted!  This room is awesome!  I didn't know you painted.  You never said a word!"  She wandered over to a stack of canvases that were tucked into a corner, and began flipping through them. "These are beautiful.  Are they of the woods around your cabin?"

     "Mostly.  Some are of Tuper Woods outside of town."

      "I love this one of your dog.  It's like you captured her whole personality... just sitting there on your front porch, watching the world go by.  You're really talented!  Have you done any portraits of people?'

      Beckett hesitated a moment. "I've done a few.  But I don't...have them here." He grabbed a sketch book off a low table, flipped through it, and then handed it to her.

     Seeing the images, Maureen blushed.  "These are of me!  How?  I've never caught you sketching me when we've been together."

     "I did most of them from memory.  But the one with your dog I took from a Facebook photo, and the smiling one I based off a picture on my Blackberry.  I took it the first time we went out together."

     "These are wonderful.  I look...so pretty...so happy."  She handed the sketchbook back to him, embarrassed.

      He pulled her into his arms.  "Just pretty?  No. I'd say more like beautiful...a gorgeous woman in love."  He kissed her, and then added.  "I'm hoping someday you'll let me paint you."

      Suddenly shy at the thought of being his model, she could only whisper. "We'll see."

       As they made their way down from the studio, his cell phone rang.  Checking the number, he made a face, and put up a finger for her to hold up.  From the answers on his side, she could tell that it was someone at the Sheriff's office, and knowing that he was his off duty, predicted it was something important enough for them to bother him at home.  Part of her hoped it would mean cutting the overnight visit short.  Despite his efforts to put her at ease, spending the night with him in that giant bed, and knowing full well Cassie had spent time there as well, made her feel ill.  She couldn't logically explain why she seemed unable to get beyond this.  It wasn't fair for her to hold something against him that was set in motion long before she ever knew him.  And in all honesty, she herself knew he was involved with someone when she first acknowledged her attraction to him. The mix of guilt, insecurity, and foreboding, made for a nauseous mental cocktail, and she was hoping for any type of reprieve.

        His call completed, he led her back to the front parlor.  "I'm really sorry, Maureen.  There was a small fire at the station, and we have two prisoners in holding.  I have to go over there, and see to their transfer.  Shouldn't take more than an hour or two.  Will you be okay here alone for a bit?  Maybe watch TV, or something?  I want you to make yourself at home.  Then, when I get back, we'll see about going out somewhere for dinner. Sound alright?"

       She really, really wanted to say no.  Wanted to suggest a postponement for a date further in the future.  Way further.  But he looked so hopeful and cute, she didn't have the heart to disappoint him.  "Sure, Ted.  I'll be fine.  You go take care of business."

       He grabbed his jacket, kissed her again, and promised to be back as quickly as possible.  She watched him drive away, uneasy in the empty, rambling house.  The TV offered nothing to hold her attention, and his stack of magazines on criminal law, investments, and politics, held no allure.  Bored, she decided she'd explore the kitchen, and possibly surprise him with some dinner here at home.  He had a full time housekeeper, so it was likely there were groceries that could be combined for a meal, and the kitchen itself was a cooks dream.

    She wandered over to the stainless steel fridge, large enough to hold provisions for a family of twenty.  It was highly polished, so much so, she could see herself in the mirror finish, and as she patted a loose curl into place, she noticed the note stuck to the front with a small magnet.  It wasn't as if she had planned to snoop.   The damn thing was just hanging out there for the whole world to see, and Ted had told her to make herself at home.  Pulling the paper off, she read the neat handwriting.

        Mr. Beckett,
          The plumber was here yesterday.  He believes the leak is located 
          in a pipe  behind the west wall of the Red Room, and
          will have to cut a large hole in the drywall to be able to
          get at it.  He would like to know if you want him
          to take the wooden beams and chains off the wall, 
          or would you rather do it yourself.  If he does it,
         it will add to the cost of the job, and he will not be
          responsible for any damage to your equipment.

         Please let him know your decision ASAP.  
         He wants to start the job on Tuesday.

          Have a good weekend,
          Helen

       Maureen stood holding the note in her hand, confused and slightly woozy.  Red Room?  Beams and chains?  What the hell was that all about?  He had given her a tour of the house, and not in any of the rooms did she see anything remotely resembling a room painted red.  Of course, they hadn't ventured below the main floor.  Now, she wondered what it was he left out of his little tour, and why he had done so.  Leaving the note on the counter, she found the door off the kitchen, and made her way down to the lower level.

        Relief flooded through her.   It looked like a regular basement.  There was a laundry room, an extra full bath complete with walk in shower, and several metal shelving units holding camping equipment, tools and storage bins.  She walked to the far end of the hall toward a plain wooden door, and trying the knob, found it locked.  Leary, she stood outside it, her conscience doing heavy battle. Maureen knew she should just walk away.  Go upstairs, stick the note back on the fridge, and wait in the parlor for Ted to return home.  But her curiosity was overwhelming, and she rattled the door hard enough to shake the frame.  She could see there was a small space between the lock and the door jamb, and it gave her an awful idea.

      She headed back upstairs, and found her purse and wallet, from which she drew out a plastic credit card.  Stopping in the kitchen, she grabbed a butter knife from the flatware drawer, and went to work on the lock.  It took several minutes of fiddling and poking, but eventually she heard the bolt pop, and the door swing open.  What she saw was beyond strange.  She felt along the wall for a light switch, and finding it, flipped it on. Having the room illuminated did little to alleviate her shock, and she had to force herself to breath normally.

Maureen discovers the Red Room

      The space was like nothing she had ever seen...at least not in person. The only word she could seem to formulate was, "Shit."  The walls were papered in red velvet, and trimmed in black lacquer.  Above her head, the ceiling was all mirror, catching her startled reflection in the low light.  The center of the room contained a black four poster bed covered in crimson satin, chains and cuffs dangling from the corners.  No matter where her eyes landed, there was something creepy and weird. Paddles, straps, sticks, and things she had no name for, covered every square inch.  Forcing her feet to move, she willed herself inside for a closer look, eventually noticing the several framed paintings hung on the walls around the room.  She stood in front of the one closest to the door, and stared.  It was of a woman, nude, head down, and restrained at the wrists and ankles with wide satin ribbon, a thick silver collar around her exposed neck.  A few feet further, hung another painting of similar theme, this one of a blonde, also naked, her hands above her head in chains, her beautiful face in a state of rapture.

       There were six in all, all of the same nature, each one bearing the initials "THB".   Her heart couldn't deny what her brain and her eyes were insisting was the truth.  Ted had created these.  Her Ted.  All of them.  And it was obvious to anyone with a soul, anyone who had every been in lust or love, that the subjects were special to their artist.  The connection was that apparent, breathing life from the painted canvas.

Those awful paintings

      Maureen was sick, her stomach rolling in waves, bile gurgling in her throat.  Hadn't he said to her, only an hour earlier, that he wanted to paint her?  Had he meant like this?  Wrapped and presented like the gift of the moment?  Just another woman tied to Theodore Beckett, treasured, and then discarded, leaving behind only an image of pigment stretched in a wooden frame?

     She needed to get out.  Out of this room, and out of this house.   In a rush, she turned off the lights, but didn't pull the door hard enough, leaving it slightly ajar.  She ran up the stairs, heart pounding,  palms sweaty, as she gathered up her purse and wallet, not caring about the overnight bag.  Maureen made her escape through the front door, and once outside, wasn't clear as to where she should now go.  Her apartment was definitely out. As soon as he discovered her missing, it would be the first place he'd look.  She thought about hiding out at the rectory, but decided against it.  Kevin would immediately figure out that something was wrong, and damned if she was going to talk to him about any of this.

      Hesitating only a moment, she abruptly turned and headed down the block to the bus stop on the corner.  She prayed her transportation would arrive soon, and nervously watched the street with for any sign of his familiar patrol car. The minutes ticked by like hours, her resolve strengthened only when the lumbering vehicle came to a halt in front of her.  With a quick backward glance at the big house on Maple Avenue, she slipped through the accordion doors, and disappeared into the cold, still night.

The basement Red Room

                               

   Copyright 2013 Victoria T. Rocus
   All Rights Reserved

     


           

Desert Rose

The morning after

   
      Sadly, there was no sun streaming through the fairy glass the following morning.  It had snowed the entire night, and the day dawned gray and cold.  Maureen maneuvered herself from under Ted's arm with the smallest amount of movement possible, trying her best to avoid waking him.  She needed a few moments of quiet reflection to take in all the implications, all the memories, of the night before.  Asleep in her bed, he looked younger than his 34 years, and without the constant furrow between his brows, much more peaceful.

      Because of height issues, his body was on a slight angle, feet sticking out from under the blanket.  She wondered if he were cold, and thought about attempting to rearrange the comforter so they'd be covered.  Throwing on her robe, she scooted to the end of the bed, and pulled her share of the blanket over him.  In doing so, she realized she had never seen him without shoes and socks.  That was most unfortunate, as she thought he had decidedly beautiful feet. They were callus free, with long, graceful toes, his nails neatly trimmed crescents.  She wondered if he did them himself, or went to someone to have them done.  Picturing him sitting in a salon chair, getting a pedicure, made her smile.

Beckett's beautiful feet

         "Are you actually examining my feet?"

         Startled, she turned around to find him awake, propped on an elbow, and watching.  "I'm sorry.   I didn't mean to wake you.  Or  make you self conscious."   She felt silly being caught in the act of staring at his feet, of all things.  "I just..ah...realized I had never seen your bare feet before.  They're very...um...attractive."

          "Why, thank you, baby."   He grinned, and flipped the entire blanket off himself.  "Feel free to look at anything that catches your fancy...for as long as you'd like."

          Embarrassed, she threw the blanket back over him.  "Geez, Ted!"

          Amused at her modesty, he put his hands behind his head, and leaned against the headboard.  "What?  We're suddenly shy now?  After last night?"

          Lobbing a throw pillow at his head, she giggled.  "Don't tease me!  I'm just not used to people walking around naked."

          "Oh come on!  You have like 12 brothers.  You're going to tell me they never walked around in the buff?"

          "First of all, I only have seven brothers, not twelve.  And secondly, they never walked around the house without their clothes on.  My mother would have been mortified.  Dad and Mom ran a tight ship, and we were expected to tow the line."

         "I'm pretty sure, my dear, you got away with murder, being the baby of the family, and the only girl besides.  I see now how you have Kevin wrapped around your little finger.  You lead him around like a poor, old sheep."

        She crawled across the bed, and pouting, plopped herself next to him.  "That's not at all how it is.  Kevin and I are very close.  It's that simple.   He's been my best bud for as long as I can remember."

        Tired of the chit chat, he tugged at the knot on her robe's belt, and when it wouldn't easily loosen, slipped the collar off her shoulders  "Well, baby, right now I want to be your only buddy."

         The intimacy of the moment was shattered by the sudden, furious barking of the dog at the hall window.   "Basil!  Quiet, boy!  It's too early to be barking like that!"  Ignoring her scolding, the dog continued to snap and snarl, forcing Maureen to sigh, and rise to check what was wrong.

         From the frosty window, she could make out a tall figure trudging down the block toward her back door, his ginger hair a beacon in the snowy, white landscape.  "Oh, shit!  It's Kevin!  He's coming here!"  White faced and frantic, she started to gather up the clothes strewn around the apartment.  "He can't find you here, Ted!  It would be horrible! "

       "Maureen, where the hell do you want me to go?  It's a one room flat.  I think you're overacting. Yes... it will be embarrassing.  But, we're all adults here.  He'll deal with it."

        "No he won't!  You don't understand!  He won't say a single rude word, but he'll look at me with those disappointed Kevin eyes, and make me feel like I'm a terrible, sinful person. And Ash Wednesday was only two days ago!  Please, Ted?" She grabbed him by the hand, and began pulling him out of the bed. "Do me this one big favor?  I'll never ask you again.   I promise.  Hide so he won't see you, and let me tell him about the two of us in my own way."

        "Baby, I'm crazy about you.  Honest, I am.  But I'm a grown man.  I'm not hiding from your brother.  Besides, he's bound to see the Mustang parked out front."

        "No, he won't.  It's totally buried in the snow.  He'll never guess it's your car.   Oh, Ted, please?"

        Seeing her near tears, and determining her unwillingness to relent, he grunted, and dragged himself out of the warm bed.  "This has got to be the stupidest thing I've ever done, Maureen.  I hope you know that."

        "Thank you, sweetie.  I owe you big time."  She pushed him into the tiny bathroom, and rearranged the beads covering the door, so it would difficult to see inside.  Picking up his boxers from the foot of the bed, she handed them to him, whispering, "You might want to put these back on.  It's  cold in there."

Beckett's boxers

      She could hear Ted swearing in the bathroom, her brother knocking on the door, and just knew it was going to be one of those days.   As she moved toward the stairs, she spied Beckett's assortment of weaponry noticeably left out in the open; some hanging on the headboard, and the rest piled on her vanity.  Gathering up the shoulder holster with the Glock, the ankle holster with the 9mm, and a scary looking switchblade, she flung them under the sink, and slammed the cabinet door.  Giving the room a quick once over, she scrambled down the stairs, her robe still slightly hanging off one shoulder, and her hair a tangled mess.

       "Kevin.  What are you doing here?  It's barely 7 AM."

        "Actually, it's 7:10.  It's Friday and you weren't at Mass. You always go to Mass on Friday, and when you didn't show up I got worried.  Especially since last night was your first night alone in the apartment."

       "Oh...um...well... after spending the day unpacking and fixing, I was pretty exhausted, so I kinda over slept."  She gave him her most innocent looking smile.  "I'm so sorry I worried you.

        "That's okay.  I'm just glad nothing's wrong.  Anyway, since I'm here, and you don't start work for another hour, how about a cup of coffee?  I'm curious to see where you put everything in that small space."

         Maureen knew inviting Kevin upstairs for as long as it would take to make and drink a cup of coffee, was a worse case scenario. Ted would be stuck in that frigid bathroom, dressed only in his boxers, freezing his ass off, and surely rethinking his decision to spend the night.  And what would she do if her brother needed to use the toilet?  That would be disastrous.  But for the life of her, she could not think of a single excuse not to let him come upstairs.  Later in the day, she would think of a litany of plausible lies.  But standing in that hallway, her brother covered in snow, she could not conjure a single one, and thus led the way up to her flat, the dog standing and growling at the top of the stairs.

        In her apartment, she offered him a chair at the table, glad she had hurriedly cleared away the china from last night's dinner, and shoved the dishes in the oven.  She fixed a pot of coffee, prayed Ted wouldn't have to sneeze, and tried to make general conversation.  "So, Kev.  What's new at the rectory?"

A surprise visit from Kevin

        He looked at her oddly, "Not much since you moved out yesterday afternoon, Mo.  How's the dog doing here?"  He watched the animal from the corner of his eye, and the dog stared him down.  Uncomfortable under Basil's watchful glare, he focused his attention elsewhere.  "Your apartment looks very nice.  I can't believe the change.  Did you ever find out for sure who had the place fixed up?"

       At the sink, Maureen tried to avoid looking directly at her brother.  "Um...I'm not a hundred percent certain, but I...ah...think it might have been Sheriff Beckett."

       Kevin made a noise of dismissal.  "That guy sure throws his money around.  Gotta watch out for those flashy types, Maureen.  They're only out for one thing."

       She grabbed the handle of her cup a little tighter, knowing full well that Ted could hear every word.  She felt obliged to say something in his defense, lest he think she wasn't head over heels crazy about him.  Because she was.  Totally.  "Oh, Kevin, I'm sure Sheriff Beckett is not like that at all.  He's always been a perfect gentleman.  And he did have our back with that whole Marzano thing.  You have to admit that."

       "I know.  But talk around town is that the guy is a player.  A love 'em and leave 'em type."

       Maureen could feel the blush crawl up her face.  The conversation was going in a direction she wanted to avoid.  For lots of reasons.  "I'm surprised at you, Kevin.  Listening to gossip.  Ted Beckett is a friend of ours, and I'm uncomfortable with you saying nasty things about him."  She laid the cup on the table, got up, and pushed the chair in with a thump.  "It's getting late.  I really need to shower, and then get ready for work.  Can we have this conversation some other time?"

       Kevin took a last slug from his cup, and rose from the table.  "I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to keep you from your job."  He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.  "Maybe we can have dinner together over the weekend?"

       Feeling guilty, she gave him a hug.  "Sure, Kevin.  I'd love that."

        He grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair, and headed for the stairs.  "You have a nice day, Maureen."  Then he stopped, turned toward the doorway of the bathroom, and added,  "You too, Sheriff."

                     __________________________________________________


          Beckett was glad the day was unusually busy.  It kept his mind off of the very desirable Maureen O'Kenney, and his serious misgivings about the whole relationship.  Now, as he was straightening up his desk before leaving, his mind wandered, and he came right back to the problem at hand.  If he had a half a brain, or any honor at all, he'd beg off their plans for tonight, and send an expensive gift, along with a note explaining how it could never work out for the two of them.  That done, he should probably take an assignment out of the country.  One that would keep them apart for several weeks, and give her a chance to come to terms with the fact that he was selfish, no good jerk.

         She was too young, too innocent, too wrong for someone like himself.  She saw the world as a wonderful place, full of hope and promise.  He, on the other hand, knew that it wasn't, and that discovery would at some point come between them.   Not to mention his issues with long term fidelity, and a certain playroom in his basement.  But from the moment he met her in the kitchen of the rectory, he had been drawn to her.  She made him feel the same way he felt when he was painting.  The same way he felt when he spent quiet time at the cabin.   Open, centered, and complete.

         Even while he was still with Cassie, Maureen had floated in the back of his mind.  Like some kind of anchor in a sea of mental discontent  At the time, it had made him feel guilty.  Now, knowing what he did about that lying bitch, he figured it wasn't guilt.  More like warning bells he chose to ignore while she blatantly catered to his darker side.  He shuddered to think of what might had happened if Cassie had decided not to leave on her own.  It would've been ugly.

        Where this all would go with Maureen he had no idea.  But he'd simply be lying to himself if he thought he could walk away now.  He had known when he accepted her dinner invitation...planned her seduction... that he was in too deep to hurt her with feigned indifference.  Stacking the file folders in a neat pile on his desk, he checked the time on his Blackberry.  He had promised her he'd be there by 7, and he wanted to stop at the florist, and then pick up a few things from home.   Gathering up his jacket, he was just about out the door, when his secretary stopped him.

      "Sheriff...a Fr. O'Kenney is here to see you.  He doesn't have an appointment.  Can you see him, or shall I tell him you're unavailable?"

       He had been half expecting this encounter all day, and when the priest hadn't shown up earlier, he  thought he had escaped an awkward moment.  Now that he was here, already waiting, there was no logical reason to postpone the inevitable.  "Can you show him to my office, and tell him to make himself comfortable.  I have a quick errand to run, but I'll be back in a few minutes.  Tell him to wait."

       She nodded her understanding, and went off to settle the Sheriff's visitor.

                       ______________________________________________

     Fr. Kevin felt self-conscious standing in the squad room of the Sheriff's office.  He had gone back and forth over his decision to do this all afternoon.  Maureen was a grown adult, and maybe he had no business sticking his nose into her personal business.  On the other hand, he felt the enormous responsibility of looking out for her since she joined him in Dollyville.  It was his fault that she had even been introduced to Beckett in the first place.  He should have been a whole lot more forceful about her returning to Boston, and because he hadn't, the whole blame rested on his shoulders.

    The worse part was that he really liked Ted Beckett.  Considered him a friend.  But there was no doubt he was wrong for his sister.  Too old, and too worldly, for a young woman from one of Boston's blue collar neighborhoods.   In addition, as far as Kevin was concerned, the man was ridiculously secretative about his personal information, for what one had to assume, were very serious reasons.  He worried that what the Sheriff wasn't telling him, was far more important than what he had openly revealed.

     The secretary came back and explained that the Sheriff had business to take care of, but would return shortly.  She led him to Beckett's office, and invited him to wait there, even bringing him a cup of surprisingly good coffee.  Once he was comfortably seated, she shut the door and left him alone to wait the man's return.

      Kevin had only been in the Sheriff's office once before, when he had come looking for information on the Marco Rivera murder.  At that time, he had been too agitated about the crime to pay much attention to the office itself.  But sitting here, without anything to do, he took better stock of the room around him.  The office was painted in a neutral shade of taupe, the furniture standard issue, except for a very expensive looking leather executive chair behind the desk.  There were several gray metal filing cabinets against the walls, and a large bookcase that held reference books pertaining to criminal law and forensics.  The desk itself was void of any personal effects.  No photos, coffee mugs with cute saying, or interesting paperweights.  Nothing that gave the slightest indication about the personality of it's occupant

     The walls, however, were a different story.  Kevin rose from his seat to take a better look.  To the left of the desk hung three painted landscapes, peaceful wooded images that looked somewhat familiar.  He squinted to make out the author's signature, a dark smudge in the lower right handed corner, and was shocked to see the initials "THB".  He couldn't begin to imagine Beckett as an artist, but the paintings were likely his, a side of himself he did not openly share.

      The wall on the opposite side of the room was decorated with a handful of framed documents and a large photo.  There was an undergraduate degree in Criminal Justice from the University of Michigan, and to Kevin's amazement, a law degree from Harvard, both in Beckett's name.  There was a commendation for bravery from the state of Massachusetts, dated September of 2011, and plaque declaring the local little league's appreciation for the Sheriff's generous contribution to the building of their new field house.  The final item in the arrangement was a photograph of a group of men dressed in military fatigues.  After a bit of searching, he located Beckett to the far right, unshaven, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses  He couldn't quite make out the insignia on the uniform, but thought it might belong to some type of special forces unit.

The photo in Beckett's office

       Behind him, he heard a door open and close, and he turned to find the Sheriff had returned.  He was surprised to see that he was no longer in uniform, and assumed the man must be off duty.

       "Thanks for waiting, Father.  I had a few things I needed to take care of.  So, what is it I can do for you?"  He seated himself behind the desk in the leather chair, and leaned back, obviously relaxed.

       "I'm sure you have an idea of why I'm here, Sheriff."

        "That I do, Father.  And considering what it is you're here to discuss, I'd rather we dispensed with  titles.  I'd prefer if you just called me Ted."  He reached in the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out a bottle of Jameson's, and two crystal tumblers, and raised them toward Kevin in offering.

         Kevin nodded his consent, and Beckett poured a finger of the amber colored whiskey into each glass.  Acknowledging each other, they each took a mouthful from their respective glasses.

        Beckett spoke first.  "I assume you are concerned about my relationship with your sister, although I'm not sure how that might be any of your business."

         Solemnly, he replied, "I feel responsible for her welfare while she's with me.  It's how things are in my family.  We all look out for Maureen."

         "And does Maureen know that you're here talking to me...about her?"

         "Of course not."

         "She's going to be pretty pissed when she finds out."

         "Undoubtedly.  But I'm trusting you not to mention it.  I had hoped this conversation would remain between us."

         "So what exactly are your reservations...Kevin?  Maureen is a grown woman...quite capable of deciding who she'd like to spend time with...and how she'd like to spend it."

          Kevin flushed, not expecting Beckett to be as blunt as he was speaking.  "Look, it's not like I have anything against you personally, Ted.  It's just that...well...things are complicated where my sister is concerned.  She got herself... involved in a rather nasty situation back in Boston.  It broke her heart, and cost her everything, including her self respect.  I just don't want to see that happen again."

        Beckett made a face, and took another sip from his glass.  "You're talking about that whole thing with her boss?"

        "You know about that?"

        "Of course.  She told me all about it last October.  But, I'm still confused as to how that has anything to do with me?"

         "I don't want to see her hurt...again."

         "I see.  And you believe I'm capable of doing such a thing?"

          Kevin could tell that the Sheriff had gone from relaxed to ticked off, but damned if he was going to let the man intimidate him.  "I'm not sure what I believe.  There are so many things I don't know about you...a lot of unanswered questions."

          "And so you believe that I need to 'prove' myself to you before you decide I'm worthy to spend time with your sister.  A rather archaic way of thinking in the 21st Century, don't you agree?"

         The conversation between them was taking a downward spiral, and Kevin decided it was time to end it.  "I can see this is going nowhere, Sheriff.  I'm sorry I wasted your time." He stood, and grabbing his jacket, moved toward the door.

        "Look, Kevin.  Let's just agree that we both care about Maureen.  Sit back down, and I'll try to put your mind to rest.  What is it you want to know?"

        Taking a deep breath, the priest returned to his chair, and fired his first question.  "I'm not sure how to put this, but let me try.  You seem to be... quite comfortable...income wise.  I just need to know that it's legally gained."

         To Kevin's genuine surprise, Beckett started to laugh.  "You think I'm taking bribes or something?"  He shook his head, and explained.  "My full name is Theodore Henton Beckett.  Ring any bells?"


         "No.  Should it?"

         "Are you familiar with a chain of big box stores called 'Henny's Pennies'?"

         "Of course.  There are hundreds of them scattered across the East Coast."  Suddenly, it was as if a light bulb flipped on in his head.  "Wait...are you telling me that you are part of 'that' family?"

           The Sheriff reached into his pocket for his wallet, pulled out a business card, and handed it to the very shocked priest.  "I sit on the Board of Directors.  And of course I have a large amount of stock in the company.  But I'm not at all involved in the day to day dealings.  I have absolutely no interest in the retail business.  Had my fill of that of that as a teenager."

       "Does Maureen know?  About your...family ties?"

       "She does.  I told her months ago.  Unlike most people, it didn't matter to her at all.  In fact, she's always scolding me about wasting money.  Insisting I can't buy her expensive things."

      "Did Cassie know?"

     "No.  Something kept me from telling her.  Good thing too, the way it worked out.  I'm not really sure where she thought I got the extra income.  I presume she, like you, assumed I was just a dirty cop on the take."  He finished the whiskey in the glass, and stood up.  "Now, if there aren't any more hoops I have to jump through, I have plans for the evening.  With Maureen."

      It was obvious the Sheriff had deemed the conversation over, and even though Kevin had several more questions he was dying to ask, it was probably best if he made his point, and went on home.  Matching Beckett, he drained the rest of the alcohol, and stood to take his leave.  "I appreciate your honesty, Ted.  I hope you understand that my main concern is my sister's happiness and well being."

     "As is mine.  I assure you I care very much for Maureen."

      He walked Kevin out, and the two shook hands stiffly.  Standing with a hand on the door frame, Fr. Kevin turned to face the Sheriff.  "Just one more thing, Beckett...if you hurt my sister in anyway, I'm coming back.  Not as a priest, but as her older brother.  Count on it."

                      ____________________________________________________

         The uncomfortable meeting with Kevin had taken twice as long as he had figured, and now he was late.  Maureen had texted him at least three times to verify that he was on his way, and the flowers he had picked up earlier were near frozen on his front seat.  He supposed she'd appreciate the thought, even if the flowers themselves looked worse for wear.

        Beckett was looking forward to spending another evening with her more than he cared to admit, and when his cell phone rang, a number he didn't recognize, he almost let it go to voice mail.  Thinking better of it, he hit the call button.

       "Beckett."

       For a second there was silence, and then she spoke.  "Miss me, baby?"

       On his end, Beckett felt his jaw tighten at the sound of her voice.  "Not one fucking bit, Cas."

       "Aw, Teddy.  I'm deeply hurt.  Is that anyway to talk to the girl you wanted to marry?"  Her low laugh seemed to snake through the phone and run down his arm like an electric current.

       "Honey, I consider the day you took off as one of the luckiest of my life.  Worth the cost of that Escalade, two times over."

       "Tisk, tisk, my liege.  You sound bitter.  As far as I'm concerned, I earned every penny I got from that SUV.   By your own admition,  I was the best sub you ever had.  You got your money's worth."

      "Spoken like a true whore, Donaghue."

      "And you, Teddy, would know, having as much experience with whores as you've had."

     "I don't think you called just to insult me, Cassandra  What is it you want?  Aren't you worried I'm tracing this call?  I could always let Marzano know where you are.  I owe you that favor for setting up  O'Kenney."

     "You really think I'd be that stupid, Beckett?  I'm using a burner phone.  Go ahead.  Trace away.
And as far as that idiot priest is concerned, he really did have the stolen money.  Out of pure spite, my silly bitch of a cousin dumped the cash in his confessional before she did a runner.   I figured if Marzano was busy tracking his money to Dollyville, he'd be safely off my ass...at least for awhile.  And it worked too.  Gave me extra time to set up a whole new identity."

     "Well, that certainly clears up a few things.  Still not sure why you're calling me, though.  I don't give a flying shit about anything that pertains to you."

     "I need your help, Ted.  You owe me."

     "I owe you absolutely nothing, you crazy bitch.  The Escalade was worth at least sixty thousand. Not counting the $1,200 you stole from my wallet.   Plenty enough for services rendered."

     "You're a fucking hypocrite, Beckett.  Sitting there playing the part of the man wronged.  You used me as much as I used you.  Don't start acting is if love had anything to do with what we had together.  There is no such thing, and we both know it.  Now get your head out of your ass, and listen to me...I need information on the whereabouts of Lizzie's baby.  I'm blood family, and that kid belongs with me, not some damn strangers."

     "I'm hanging up now, Cas.  Don't ever fucking call me again.  Stay out of my town, and out my life.   I'm warning you."  And before she could get another word in, he clicked the end button, and turned off the power to his phone.  It'd be a huge hassle, but he'd have to change his cell number.  Not that it would help much.  With her skills, Donaghue could easily hack into the system, and get the new one.  He'd have to give this whole problem some serious thought. She was definately a hazard.  A dangerous one at that.

      The dashboard clock read 8:22 PM.  He was now well over an hour late, and there hadn't been a text from Maureen for at least 40 minutes.  He wanted to turn the phone back on so he could send a text, something to let her know he was on his way.  Thinking it over, he decided to just make his way over there, and apologize in person.  Personal communication went a whole lot further than a text message ever could.

       There was no available parking in front of the deli, so he ended up in a spot a few doors away.  He turned off the engine and sat for a moment, trying to put the crap of the past three hours behind him.  His conversation with both O'Kenney and Cassie left him questioning his motives.  Maybe they were being more realistic than he was.  It was true that he wasn't a big believer in the concept of love.
Found the whole idea illogical, more wishful thinking than anything else.  Over the years, he had been attracted to more women than he could count.  Seriously attracted.  But love...not so much.  Were his feelings for Maureen different?  He couldn't really say.

       From his position down the block, he could see her lit apartment, the diffused lighting behind the curtain throwing her shadow from one window to another.  He could picture her moving around the tiny, thrift store furnished flat... fixing...straightening...waiting.  It made him feel better.  A dash of warmth in a dreary scenario.

       He recalled an assignment in Socotra, an island 220 miles off mainland Yemen.  A harsher, more  windswept spot of desolation didn't exist.  He had been caught in gunfire between insurgents, pinned down with a bullet wound to his right thigh.  Waiting for extraction for almost two weeks, his injury festering, and delirious with fever, he had desperately tried to hang on to consciousness.  He'd found shelter in a small crevice between two rocks, from which he could view a plant the native people called  "وردة الصحراء" or "Rose of the Desert".  It was a hardy species that survived and bloomed when everything else around it withered under the extreme conditions.  Its trumpet shaped blooms, deep red, gave him a point of focus, a sign of hope when there was little chance he would survive.  He was in no way a religious man.  But the appearance of those blooms, and the few drops of rain water he could sip from them, were to him, gifts from a God who apparently still had plans for him.

     And now there was Maureen.  A beautiful bloom in a desolate landscape.  Something for him to hold on to, and moisture for a soul devoid of affection.  In that moment, the thought came to him that despite being two hours late, she'd still welcome his arrival.  In addition, there was also a sliver of hope, that no matter where he might be sent, she'd be waiting, happy to have him home again.  Suddenly less weary, he turned off the ignition, grabbed the frozen flowers, and went to spend the night with his sweet Desert Rose.

The light from Maureen's apartment

   
Copyright 2013 Victoria T. Rocus
All Rights Reserved
   

     



 

       






         

       

       

     


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About the miniatures...

Thanks for your interest in some of the minis in this week's post.  I'm pleased to answer your questions...

                     
     The beautiful glass screen was a Christmas gift from my family...well, the cash was anyway.  I had been looking at that screen on Etsy for at least two months before Christmas, but damned if I could convince any of my loved ones to surprise me with it under the tree.  So, when I found some extra cash in my stocking, I knew exactly what I would get.  It was so pretty, I had to figure out a way to work it into the storyline, and what better way than to have Ted romance Maureen with it.  If you would like to have more information about the artist, feel free to email me.  She does have other pieces in glass, as well as some extraordinary dressed beds, and painted plates.   The plate on the kitchen wall is also her work, and was an extra gift with my order.

       I also want to mention Beckett's darling reindeer sweater.  It is hand knit by a talented lady, Susan Klein.  She also sells on Etsy, and creates knit wear, as well as some adorable furniture.  Give her a look next time you are on the web site.  She has some lovely things.

       
         I also had a few questions about the bathroom door.  I agonized over that silly door for 3 days!  All the beads I tried looked too clunky, or didn't lay right.  I almost gave up, and figured I'd just have to make a cloth curtain.   Then, I found an old necklace of mine with strands of these tiny metal beads.  The necklace was sacrificed for a good cause.  LOL   It was imperative that I get a door in there, as it plays an important role in next week's storyline...but that's all I'm saying about that.  Hope you like how it turned out.

       Finally, I was asked about the names of the other O'Kenney siblings, and their ages.  So here you go:

                              Patrick John  Jr.  45
                              James (Jamie) Thomas 42
                              Sean Michael  38
                              William Matthew  36
                              Daniel Stephen  34
                              Brendan Samuel  32
                              Kevin Seamus 30

                              Maureen Margaret  24

Thank you for your interest in my story.  It means so much to have you come back each week to read another chapter.  Please know I pour my heart and soul into these characters, and I am thrilled to know
that you enjoy them as well.  Your  comments make my day, and give me the push to keep writing.


Until next week,

Best Wishes,

Vicki aka Madame Mystery