“I hope you’re right, Mitchell. I felt exactly the same about Detective Jackson, but ultimately I wasn’t able to stop the person who killed him.”
Mitchell put her hard confession into the context of his feelings for Toby. “You knew and worked with Detective Jackson for a long time, ma’am. This situation is different, but only because I haven’t known Toby – I mean, Mr. Bailey – for as long as you knew Detective Jackson.” He paused to see what her reaction to his words was, and when he saw that she wasn’t going to object, he continued. “I understand what you’re telling me and I think it’s probably good advice. I’ll do my best to step back some, but, Detective?” He looked earnestly into her face. “I think it might already be too late to be objective.”
Reightman had caught his use of Bailey’s first name, but given her own feelings for Toby she didn’t mention it. She couldn’t even find a reason to try and make him step back from what was obviously, friendship. She hadn’t, even when she knew better. “In that case, Mitchell, do your damnedest to make sure nothing bad happens. It hurts like hell when it does.”
“Detective? I appreciate you taking time to talk to me about this, and…for accepting me for who I am. It means a lot, and I’ll never forget it.”
Once, Sam had told her that he’d always remembered the kind advice given to him by a more senior officer and had tried to explain how much it had always meant. She thought of all the times he had been so generous with sharing the benefit of his experience with others, and suddenly knew what kind of personal satisfaction he’d received from mentoring others. She forced down the lump in her throat and gave Mitchell a mock glare. “Don’t start getting all mushy with me. I’m not used to it and it makes me cranky and weepy and you don’t want to see either.” She smiled up at him as she opened the door. “It’s time for me to let you get back to your job. Stay safe, and keep your eyes open. I have a feeling things are going to start to unfold pretty soon. I just hope we’re ready for what’s headed our way.”
As Reightman walked past the reception desk, she stopped and looked up at the photo of a young Toby Bailey. His mother had perfectly captured the moment which had given the spa its name. The young boy, seated in the hard backed wooden chair pouted down at her, with his arms crossed defiantly across his chair. He was in time out, until he ‘found a better mood to get in’, Toby had explained to her the first time she’d seen the picture. She’d known it was him the moment she saw it, but today, the resemblance to the man she’d left in the back treatment room seemed to be less obvious. Maybe it was because the small boy staring down from the wall hadn’t yet experience the heartbreak and trauma with which his older self was becoming all too familiar. She thought of what might still be ahead, and couldn’t suppress the small shiver that tingled down her spine. “Lord – and Sam, if you’re listening – please send us what we need to make it through this mess safely. Any help or good ideas you can send down to us would be much appreciated.”
She stepped out onto the sidewalk and looked over to the patrol car across the street, situated between Zhou Li’s shop and the stairs which led to Toby’s apartment. The officers on duty were good men and would keep watch on her neighborhood. She looked down the street at each of the quirky businesses occupying this section of Capital Street. Six months ago, she wouldn’t have given the shops – or their owners – a second thought, but now she found herself caring a great deal about this small stretch of downtown.
“When,” she asked herself as she drove away, “did these people become my friends? And when did I start thinking about this place as my neighborhood.” She never did come to an answer, even though she was still thinking about it later that evening while the scent of jasmine tea filled her lonely apartment.
CHAPTER FIVE
Saturday was pretty much a mixed bag for Toby. He was happy the spa was up and running and the remaining staff were thrilled to slide back into their work routines. He’d lost a couple of employees over the past couple of weeks because they weren’t able to go without regular work. The rest of the staff managed to hang in with him though, and made ends meet by stepping in to handle a fair number of outcalls from area hotels. One or two had picked up fill-in shifts waiting tables or tending bar around town. As he reviewed the appointment book with SarahJune before opening, he realized – even with a reduced staff – Time Out would be able to handle the workload. There were far fewer appointments scheduled for the upcoming two weeks than he’d anticipated.
“It’ll get better, Toby,” SarahJune reassured him. “We should have known this time of year would be slow. Folks are trying to get back into their routines after summer vacations and have just finished getting their kids back in school. I bet things will start picking up in a few days.”
Toby flipped through a couple of pages in the appointment book, noting the missing names of some of the spa’s regular clients, and then closed the book and handed it back to her. “I hope you’re right,” he said. “Maybe we should put together some promo packs and flyers. I can carry them around to some of the area businesses like I did when we first opened.” He watched the water from the wall fountain flow down the ridged rock backdrop while he thought about anything else that might help. “I guess we could offer a discount coupon. That worked pretty well when we were trying to get started.”
“Yeah, it did.” SarahJune agreed. “I’ll go grab some of the flyers and business cards and start putting together some packets. You want to add those little samples of body lotion?”
“Sure, we might as well. I think everything you’ll need is in the lower right-hand cabinet in the back treatment room.”
As SarahJune went to fetch the supplies, Toby walked over to where Mitchell was standing in the front of the reception area looking out the big glass windows. “You’re quiet this morning.”
“Really?” Mitchell seemed surprised by Toby’s observation. “I’ve just been thinking about some stuff. You’d better enjoy it while you can. If I remember, the other day you asked me if I ever shut up.”
Toby laughed at Mitchell’s reminder. “Well, you do seem to find plenty to say most of the time, when you’re not being all official and cop-like.” When Mitchell grinned at his characterization, Toby added, “You know, you can’t lurk out here staring out the window all day. You’ll scare away what few customers we have left.”
“I guess I could find a magazine to read or something. I guess I hadn’t realized how much I’d stand out in here.”
“Yeah, me either. I’m going to need to take some marketing brochures around to a few places in town later this morning, so we’ll be out of here for a couple of hours. After that, I have a lot of stuff to catch up on in the office and you can hang out with me back there.” Toby stopped him before Mitchell could suggest an alternative. “And, no, you can’t stand outside the hall between the office and the spa treatment rooms. I think most of our customers would think it was creepy, unless you want to put on a fluffy white robe and pretend you’re waiting on an appointment.”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea. Detective Reightman would come unglued if she saw me like that.” After a moment, Mitchell shyly added, “Beside, I’ve never had a massage before.”
“Never?”
“No, but I’ve always wondered what it would be like.”
“I’ll tell you what, once this is all over, I’ll make sure you get the best massage the Time Out Spa can provide.”
“Really?”
“Sure, it’s the least I can do. After all, you’ve put up with me for the last three or four days, and who knows how long we still have to go before this is wrapped up.” Toby gave the cop an evil grin. “I’ll book you with Brigette, for one of her special deep tissue torture sessions.” Toby assumed a very stern expression and mimicked the sturdy German masseuse. “You vill lay dere very still. Dis vill not hurt – much. Ja?”
Mitchell’s eyes widened in unfeigned fear. He’d met the bossy, militant Brigette just this morning when she arrived
to make sure tings vere in der proper order. She’d taken control of the whole place within five minutes and Mitchell was kind of scared of her no-nonsense, take-charge-but-take-no-prisoners demeanor and didn’t want it directed his way. “Ummm…I’m not sure that’d be very relaxing.”
“Actually, Brigette is one of the best therapists I have ever known,” Toby told him. “She has about twenty-five years of experience and I was lucky she was looking for a part-time position when her son left for college.” He smiled at Mitchell’s still wide-eyed face and added, “I’d tell her to go easy on you since you’re a massage virgin.”
“Thanks – I think,” Mitchell was not at all enthused. “I think I’ll go find a magazine or something to read before we leave.” He started to head back to the break room and looked back over his shoulder, “Don’t even think about unlocking the front door until I get back.”
“Aye, aye, captain,” Toby saluted, and then stretched and turned to the desk where SarahJune was opening the boxes containing the extra spa literature and the free samples. “Need some help? The sooner we get these put together, the sooner I can start trying to drum up some business.”
Melba spent her Saturday morning doing some grocery shopping and catching up on her laundry. An hour or so later, she was sitting on the couch with an improbably plotted detective novel, prepared to spend the afternoon immersed in the adventures of Master Detective Justinian Copperfield as he tried to solve the case of the missing Burmese Champion show cat. She’d progressed through the first few chapters of nefarious doings when her phone rang. Melba dog-eared her page and answered.
“Detective Reightman, I’m sorry to interrupt your Saturday, but I did have a couple of things I wanted to talk to you about - if you have a moment?”
“Hello, Madame Zhou,” Melba replied, recognizing the lady’s voice. “I’m not in the middle of anything important, so you haven’t interrupted a thing.”
“I’m glad,” Zhou replied. “The first thing on my mind is to inquire about how you are doing. I wasn’t able to get to you yesterday at Detective Jackson’s service due to the huge turnout, and so I thought I would check on you today.”
Melba did a quick internal check of her current mental and emotional state. She was still depressed, of course, but she did feel more normal than she had in a while. “I’m doing as well as can be expected. It’s going to take me a while to come to terms with what has happened, but I’ll be alright.” She remembered her conversation with Toby the day before. “How are you doing? Tony mentioned you were still feeling tired.”
“I was worn out from that tedious meeting on Tuesday. I will never understand why people have to be bludgeoned into getting with the program. It would save so much time if they would just realize I was going to get my way regardless of their antics. However, I am feeling much better today.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Toby and I were a little worried.”
“I am perfectly fine, Detective, but I appreciate your concern. Now, the second item I wanted to check with you about is regarding the tea I made for you – not the jasmine, the other tea. How is it working for you?”
“It’s working very well, Madame Zhou. In fact, it’s almost miraculous.”
“I am delighted to hear it. That blend always worked well for the members of my family. I will start working on another batch.”
“Thank you. Please let me know when it’s ready and I’ll stop by. And please include a bill this time.”
“I will, Detective. Now that you are hooked, I can make back my initial investment,” Zhou’s girlish laugh echoed over the phone, and Melba found herself wondering just how much investment the old lady was going to try to recoup. She decided it didn’t matter – the tea was worth its weight in gold.
“The third thing I wanted to know is whether you have plans for this coming Tuesday evening? The “Ming Palace Chinese Flying Wonders” are going to be performing, and a friend has given me two tickets. I would be delighted if you were able to join me.”
Melba thought through her non-existent social calendar and accepted. “I’d love to join you, Madame Zhou. The only caveat is if something should occur regarding the investigation, I could find myself in a situation where I’d be unable to attend.”
“That is a given, Detective. However, we will plan on you being able to attend the performance with me. As a matter-of-fact, I was wondering if you would mind driving us that evening. I’m finding driving once dark is becoming troublesome for me.”
Melba readily agreed. Anything which kept the octogenarian off the streets after nightfall was worth it in her mind.
“Thank you, Detective. I believe that very satisfactorily completes all the items I called to discuss. I am sure you would like to return to your own activities, and I have a flat full of fall mums to put into the pots on my terrace.”
“It sounds like you have a busy afternoon ahead, Madame Zhou. Thank you again. I’m looking forward to our outing on Tuesday.” After hanging up, Melba picked up her book and thumbed through the pages until she found her place. She was soon once again caught up in the mysterious caper of the missing cat.
John Brown had spent every available minute during the last couple of days checking up on various people of interest. He attended the funeral of Detective Sam Jackson and noted the impressive turnout. At the cemetery, he watched the Detective’s widow release the white dove, and had to wipe a single tiny tear from the corner of his eye. “That was a beautiful moment,” he thought, recalling the bird’s winged passage up into the sky.
He’d also spent a good deal of his time keeping an eye on Toby, and the police detail shadowing him. Early Sunday morning he watched the two men rush down the stairwell onto the sidewalk to commence their morning jog. The young cop running at Toby Bailey’s side was dressed in a pair of modest training shorts, athletic shoes, a departmental t-shirt and had his weapon holstered over his shoulder. In contrast, Toby wore only a pair of running shoes and a brief pair of nylon shorts. The sun glinted off his ash blond hair and played off of his lean, toned body. “He’s got a nice pair of legs on him and a really fine ass,” John Brown noticed as the men stretched for a minute and then took off down the street.
Forty minutes later he saw them return, wet with sweat. The young cop was breathing heavily, trying to catch his breath. Toby was not breathing as hard, since he was a well-seasoned runner, but his skin was slicked with a glistening sheen of moisture and the thin shorts clung damply to what little skin they covered. The young man bent over to adjust a lace on his shoe, and John Brown found himself mesmerized for a moment by the flexing, tight muscles of Toby’s backside. “Damn, that’s nice!” he exclaimed under his breath, before wondering what caused him to even notice. Once the shoelace was properly tied, he saw the golden young man straighten, and the cop at his side reached over and clapped him on the shoulder. They laughed together as the cop flung the water which had attached itself to his fingers and palm off onto the pavement. Toby Bailey pushed the cop playfully in the chest, and John Brown could tell he was making some laughing rejoinder to a remark the cop had made.
John Brown watched the two men head back up the stairs, and realized what strong feeling was welling up inside him. He was jealous – pure and simple. He was jealous of the young cop who had obviously formed a bond with the man John Brown had been hired to kill. He pushed the feeling down. He didn’t think he was gay, and besides, he didn’t have any experience with that particular emotion. His relationships had always been on a for-hire basis, and jealousy didn’t factor into those situations.
Later that night, he climbed up the old attached ladder leading to the rooftops of the shops on Capital Street. “That’s going to cause trouble,” he observed again when he reached the roof and looked down at the ladder. He walked across the flat expanse of asphalt covering the roofs until he was directly across from the apartment he knew belonged to Toby Bailey. In the dark night, John Brown watched
until the bedroom light was turned off.
“Good night, Toby,” John Brown whispered to the apartment window opposite him. “I’ll check on you again tomorrow.”
Monday brought the start of a new week, but didn’t, unfortunately, bring any new leads in the ongoing investigations. By the end of the day Tuesday, Reightman was more than ready for the diversion Zhou Li’s outing promised. After making a quick stop home to change into something more appropriate for a night out, she pulled up in front of Green Dragon, where Zhou was waiting by the front door. To her surprise, Toby and Mitchell were also waiting expectantly.
When she pulled into a nearby parking place, the three made their way to her car.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I was able to get a couple of tickets for tonight and I thought we could all ride together.”
“That’s not a problem at all, Toby – the more the merrier,” Reightman agreed as Mitchell held the passenger side door open while Toby helped Zhou Li get settled into the front seat.
Soon they were all in, buckled up, and headed to the city’s performing arts arena. Once they made it to the lobby, Toby and Mitchell started to split off from their small group. “Our seats are further back than yours,” he explained. “I was lucky to even get two seats together, so I’m not about to complain.”
After agreeing where they should meet after the performance, Melba carefully escorted Madame Zhou to the seats she’d secured for them. Melba was surprised to see herself seated dead center in the orchestra section, about eight rows back from the large curtained stage. She noticed several of the city’s elite seated around her, although thankfully, none she’d seen in naked, photographic glory.
“These seats are wonderful,” She commented to her companion as she helped Zhou arrange the heavily embroidered silken shawl the elderly woman wore draped over her thin shoulders.
“Yes, they are very acceptable,” Zhou Li responded with imperial dignity, certain the privilege of such excellent seating was only her due. Amused for a moment at the thought of Zhou Li sitting in the nose-bleed seats in the top tier of the theatre, Melba settled back into her seat and leafed through her program.
Hard Job: Reightman & Bailey Book Two Page 10