Movers & Shakers

by Lois RH Balzer

  “Just once,” she answered, distracted. “With Sandy.”

  “Oh.”

  She paused on the stairs, turning to look down at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Rafe shrugged, then went to open the door for Joel and Henri. They left the boxes with him and headed back to the van.

  “Rafe?” Megan prompted, still waiting on the stairs.

  “Nothing. It means nothing,” he said, moving out of her line of vision to set the boxes outside Blair’s bedroom door. He busied himself opening them to check the contents.

  “Rafe, come up here for a minute.”

  With a sigh, he looked around the loft, but finally put his frustration aside and went to see what Megan wanted.

  She turned as he started up the stairs, holding up a creased jacket. “This is what Sandy was wearing, wasn’t it?”

  “Where did you find it?”

  “On Jim’s bed,” she answered

  “Better leave it where it was,” Rafe said, feeling uncomfortable being in his friend’s bedroom. “Everything’s finished up here. They’ve put everything back.” He turned and went back downstairs.

  “Do you think they put the jacket there?” Megan asked softly.

  “I don’t know. Jim probably just wanted something of Blair’s around. Give me a hand, okay? They don’t have the furniture in Sandburg’s room yet.”

  “Sure.” She craned her neck to see the layout of Ellison’s room — pure curiosity, he figured — then joined Rafe, helping him move the tall bookcase through the French doors.

  “So where does this go?” Rafe asked, once they were in Sandburg’s room.

  “How should I know? There was no furniture in the loft when I was here. It was completely empty.”

  “I thought you were here with Sandburg once.”

  “I came here with him to see what was wrong with Jim last week.” She glared at him, irritated. “Let’s just put the bookcase down until Henri and Joel get here. Maybe they know where it goes.”

  “Sorry,” Rafe mumbled. “That was poor form.”

  “It was.” Megan looked around at the natural flooring of the bedroom. “No scuff marks. Jim even swept the place clean to get the dust out. Now why would he do that? I’m totally baffled by all this. Why would he throw Sandy out? Has he ever done anything like this before?”

  “Not that I know of. Maybe. Simon’s known him longest.”

  “I was surprised he tossed him out like that. I haven’t known them that long, but there’s something about them that after a while you can’t imagine one without the other. I admit, I was surprised when I heard they weren’t only partners, but lived together. I figured maybe they were— you know—”

  “Yeah. A lot of people think that at first.”

  “Well. It was just the togetherness between them. They obviously care about each other. I think they’d die for each other. And when Jim thought Sandy was dead—” Megan stopped, caught up in the memory of that horrifying few minutes by the fountain. “Damn it,” she whispered, walking out of the room, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “I’m sorry.” She pulled a tissue from her jacket pocket and blotted her eyes.

  Rafe followed her into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around her. “He’s alive, right? They’ll make it. Whatever caused all this, I think they’ll work it out. They’ve come too far to let it all go.” He rested his cheek against her hair, feeling his own eyes brim with tears. The past four days had been exhausting and the lack of sleep was catching up on him.

  “But why did it all happen, Rafe? Why did Jim suddenly start getting so territorial? Why did he throw Sandy out? Why did he move all the furniture away? It doesn’t make any sense. Is he mentally unstable?”

  Rafe laughed, patting her arm awkwardly as he released her and returned to the boxes. “Jim? Mentally unstable? No. Sometimes, though, things happen differently for them. They don’t move through life the same as other people. It’s hard to explain,” he added, pulling out some books and piling them on the floor by the kitchen island. “We don’t ask a lot of questions.”

  “I’ve noticed some peculiarities,” Megan admitted, looking at him as if she were wondering whether or not to say anything more. Joel and Henri’s return distracted her, and she went to the door to hold it open for them. “Do either of you know where the bookcase goes in the bedroom? We want to get started putting the books away.”

  All four stood at the open French doors and stared at the small floor space. “The bed went along that wall,” Joel said, finally, glancing to Henri and Rafe to see if they agreed with him.

  “Okay, let’s move the bed in.” Henri led the way through the maze of furniture and boxes and with Rafe and Megan’s help, they put the futon bed back in the room. Joel had found a box of bedding and pillows that were unanimously agreed to be Blair’s, and together with Megan, they put the sheets and comforter on while the other two men brought the rest of the boxes from the van.

  “What about the dresser, the desk and the bookcase?” Rafe asked. “I’ve only ever seen a glimpse of Blair’s room, and the bed is all you can see from the door.”

  Brown stared carefully, then pointed to the far door. “To get out the door to the basement, you wouldn’t want anything to block it, so my guess is the bookcase is along the wall beside the door, with the dresser beside it, under the hall window. That leaves the desk to go on the wall at the foot of the bed.”

  They all studied the remaining pieces of furniture and agreed that given the layout of the room, and the wealth of doors and windows for such a small space, there was no other option for the furniture. “But where’s his closet?” Megan asked, turning in circles once the bookcase, desk and dresser were in place. “If the door on the brick wall goes to the outside fire escape, and the other door goes to the back hallway and downstairs, where’s his closet? I’ve seen Blair wear a suit jacket before, so he’s got to hang it somewhere.”

  “I know this one,” Rafe said with a smile. “I came back here after going to court with them one day, and Blair took off his suit jacket, sprawled on the couch, and fell asleep within twenty seconds. Jim griped about him leaving stuff lying around, but picked up the jacket, went through the rear exit to the loft and hung it up in a closet in their back hallway, the one that leads to the stairs to the basement.”

  Megan walked through Blair’s room and pushed open the door, peering around the corner to the closet. “Isn’t it rather open?”

  “Not really. The back hallway is only for their apartment. It goes downstairs to the basement or out the emergency exit to the back lane.”

  “Why two doors to the same hallway?”

  “Originally there was just this one, in Blair’s room. A previous owner added the other one, by the bathroom, and blocked this exit. When Blair moved in, they unlocked it so Blair could use it as an exit. It’s come in handy, but it’s also been a security problem.”

  “Whatever works for them.” She picked up a box of clothing. “Anyone come across any hangers?”

  Henri spun around and pointed to a box under the loft stairs. “Over there. I’ll bring you some.”

  They kept working for another hour, placing all the furniture, putting books on bookshelves, dishes in the cupboards, and towels in the bathroom, finally admitting they had done all they could. What they were left with was a stack of items outside Blair’s bedroom, consisting of a bizarre collection of bows, arrows, masks, and pictures. A quick call to Simon hadn’t answered their questions. He couldn’t advise them on where any of it went.

  Joel looked across the room at his dejected fellow workers sitting sprawled on the couches. “Hey. What’s this about? Let’s just do our part, guys. We can’t undo whatever happened, but we know Blair belongs here and wants to be here, and Jim wants him here, and therefore, we’re putting him back here. It’s up to them to sort out the differences and make it all right. They need to do some housecleaning of their own.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Megan said with
a sigh. “I had just hoped we could have done more.”

  Rafe nodded, yawning. “I’m beat. I’m going home; it’s been a long night. Henri and I got off work at eight this morning and it’s now after three. I need my rest before going in again at midnight. I hate night shift.”

  “Me, too,” his partner agreed. “We don’t have to do it very often, though. It’s just the case we’re on.” He stood up, reaching a hand to Rafe. “Come on. I’ll drive you home. Megan, can you take the van back to the station?”

  “Sure. I’m doing the afternoon shift. I want to grab a salad first; that pizza’s sitting rather heavy on my stomach. Need a ride, Joel?”

  “I came here with Henri, so I’d appreciate a lift in. I’ll take Simon the key before I start my shift.” Joel followed them to the door. They paused before leaving, all glancing around the refurnished loft.

  “It’s not quite right, is it?” Rafe asked.

  “No. But it will be,” Megan answered, fiercely determined.

  “If we have anything to say about it,” Henri agreed.

  *

  10:30 p.m.

  Jim Ellison opened the door to the loft and stepped inside the dark interior. Simon Banks reached in and flicked on the light, apologizing softly to Jim as he flinched. “Sorry. I forget sometimes.”

  “It’s okay. Listen, Simon, I’m fine here. I’ll just make some soup and go to bed. I’m tired.” Ellison shrugged off his jacket and hung it on one of the coat hooks. “You don’t need to stick around.”

  Simon looked around the loft, nodding in appreciation. “They did a good job.”

  “What?” Ellison looked behind him, frowning as he saw the furniture in place. “Oh, right. I forgot they were doing this. I should have given them a floor plan.”

  “They were close, though, weren’t they?”

  “Hmm..? Yeah. Pretty close. I can make any changes later.”

  “Tomorrow,” Banks said firmly.

  “Right. Tomorrow. Why don’t you go? I’ll heat up some soup and go to bed.”

  “Are you okay with that?”

  “Yeah, I’ll sleep fine tonight. The talk I had with Sandburg helped answer a bunch of questions I had running around in my brain.”

  “Did the kid sound okay? The doctors were concerned about possible—”

  “I heard. No, he’s fine. Blames himself for everything, though — I threw him out and he says he’s the one responsible. — But for the most part, he sounded fine. He’s got to get his strength back.”

  “Does he remember what happened?”

  “He mentioned Alex coming to his office. He doesn’t remember anything from then until waking up in the hospital.”

  “At least he woke up tonight and spoke to you. That’s a start.” Simon moved back to the door. “If you’re sure you’re okay, I’ll get going. I’m tired. I’d like to get home at a decent hour.”

  “Thanks, Simon. I’ll see you tomorrow. Same time?”

  “Seven-thirty.”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  The door shut behind his captain, and Ellison moved to lock it. He avoided looking at the rest of the suite while he rummaged through the kitchen and managed to locate a pot; he opened the can of soup, heating it quickly. He sat down to eat, but got up from the table half a dozen times to fix this or that, to switch the couches, to move the stereo cabinet a foot closer to the stairs, to adjust the pictures on the wall. All little things, but they made the loft seem foreign to him, not just empty. Empty wasn’t furniture or no furniture. It was Blair or no Blair.

  The amount of work done in the loft since he had left that morning was impressive and he didn’t know how he was going to repay his co-workers for what they had done, for the incredible act of friendship that had been extended to Blair and him.

  He turned the lights out and used the bathroom, then came out and once again paused outside Blair’s doorway. Something drew him in and he sat on the futon mattress, taking the scruffy bear from the bed and holding it in one hand as he looked around the room. Nothing was quite right. Books weren’t in the order Blair kept them. The pillows on the bed were arranged differently. The small items on the window ledges were missing, still sitting in a box outside the room, waiting to be put back. He brought the box into the room and laid out all the unplaced items on the dresser, but after thirty minutes, he had a raging headache and still had no idea where they went. He picked up a few bows and stared at the numerous hooks on the walls, but he had no idea which bow went where. He vaguely remembered the significance of one or two of them, but not where Blair would have displayed them in his room. Exhausted, he gave up and sat back on the mattress and reclaimed the bear.

  He almost stood up and took it to the hospital. It had offered Sandburg comfort once, maybe it would again.

  But he had promised he would stay in the loft until morning. Studying the bear, growing more tired, he spoke to the inquisitive brown face, his voice rough with emotion. “I see these things every single day, Silver, but I can’t put them back because I’ve never paid enough attention to see where they went. I took him for granted. I took his presence here for granted.” The bear’s face disappeared into a shimmer of tears. “But he talked to me today. He doesn’t want to leave me. He wants to stay.” A choking sob followed and he lowered his face to one hand, letting the pent up emotion break over him until he was too exhausted to do anything but rest his head on Blair’s pillow and close his eyes.

  When morning’s light streamed into the loft and touched his face, he was still lying on the narrow bed, asleep, holding onto the little bear, holding tight to the fragile connection to his Guide.