The Tender Shore: A Matt Ransom Mystery

by Bobby Underwood

  Her words were tender, emotional, and they rang true. Pride flooded me. Even Jennie, as hard as she was, felt the truth in those words. Her face said so. For a moment I saw hope there. And then there was agony, and her eyes filled, her small body shaking. LeAnn had inched forward and was between us just enough that getting off a shot was iffy. Damn!

  LeAnn: Please give me the gun, honey. You don't want to do this. I can tell. Her words were soft, like a big sister trying to help her wayward sibling.

  Stacy: I promise we'll protect you, sweetie.

  Jennie: Don't you see…

  I knew it was over. There was something in her voice I'd heard before. She was going over the edge of a cliff and no one could stop her.

  Jennie: I planted the bomb in Mexico. I'm sorry…

  The next sound was a gunshot, and Jennie lay dead on the floor, killed by hate that had swallowed her tiny body whole, until the light couldn't get through the darkness anymore…

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  For the success of men of good character against evil cannot be measured in souls, since not all of them can be saved

  I held LeAnn in my arms, her head buried in my chest. I knew there were tears, because I felt the dampness through my shirt. Stacy stood stunned, her eyes moist as well. I felt something deep and tender for her, because she had no one to hold her. She walked over to Jennie's body and laid her hand gently on her head before prying the gun from her fingers and walking from the room. She returned moments later with Annette and Pablo close behind her.

  "There is no need to call anyone this time," she stated, exuding a quiet confidence. "An intruder broke in as Matt and LeAnn arrived, panicking the woman. She shot Jennie, who was trying to protect me, and the shot was heard. She ran down the hallway on the other side of the house trying to escape, and ran into Matt, who shot her. The gun Jennie used to…end her pain will be found in the woman's hand."

  "If they run ballistics they'll know it doesn't wash, Stacy," I commented.

  She smiled, at least as much as you can smile with a sad dead girl laying on the floor a few feet away. "I know. But they won't, Matt. Everyone knows I am Aerodyne now. My word won't be disputed. They will accept my story without question, and anyone suspicious of it will be afraid to act on those suspicions."

  "Weren't you in the back of my car earlier this evening, screaming in the wind?" I teased.

  "She's a big girl now," LeAnn said, smiling her approval.

  "I'm surprising myself at how naturally this is coming to me. To tell you the truth, I had no idea it was in me until recently."

  "Edna did," I stated. "She usually gets it right."

  We all looked down at Jennie, her lifeless body a reminder of what might have been. Stacy wasn't through, however.

  "Annette, I no longer have a driver, and I need someone I can trust completely. I hope you want the job, because I don't know anyone else in Miami. Edna was right, I love it here. I intend to work from here much more than Edna did. I am not going to Paris or any of the branches of Aerodyne unless I have to. I'll need to move computers in here and have someone who knows about them not only set it up, but show me how to use them to find out what I need to know. Edna will be helping me with other matters, but I need Pablo for this. It will mean you guys would have to live here. It isn't like having your own place, I know, but you'll have your own section of the mansion separate from mine, and besides the limo, I'll provide a vehicle for use around Miami. Or we can get your car back up to snuff if you are sentimental like I am about things. So, what do you say?"

  They looked at each other and nodded. "Okay," said Annette. "It sounds like a wonderful deal for us. Thank you."

  "It's great for me too," Stacy assured them. "I'm alone here right now, and after this is all over, Matt and LeAnn will be back in New Chicago. Hopefully, if I haven't screwed things up too badly, that may change in the future, but that would only mean I'd have a couple of friends working for me who could watch the place when I went away on vacation or whatever. It's a win-win for me, guys. Really."

  Civil Enforcement showed up. It was the same CR as at the Greyhound terminal and he sighed as soon as he saw me. Stacy was right. He knew the score, and it went as smoothly as she had anticipated. Forty-five minutes later, Jennie's body had been removed and the female shooter was on her way to Miami General. I knew we'd never get anything out of her, and she'd just disappear into the woodwork once she was released, so I wrote it off as an avenue to explore. Rio was where we needed to be. Stacy booked LeAnn and I on a midnight flight. She also ordered a catered breakfast which was delivered soon after Civil Enforcement had cleared out. We had all been up all night now, and most of the morning. I kissed LeAnn, grabbed Annette, and left for one last errand before I crashed.

  Ray wasn't exactly jumping for joy when he saw me coming. I held up my hands before he started in on me complaining. I handed him the keys to the Ferrari.

  "She's yours, Ray. Stacy had it transferred to you and the papers were faxed here."

  He looked shocked, and quickly rushed to check. The paperwork was there, even if it wasn't real paper anymore. He turned to me, beaming. "Thomas, you're okay sometimes."

  "Later, TC."

  I got into the limo and Annette drove us back.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  For a life lost is a reminder to embrace all that we love, before that too is lost to the darkness all around us

  When I returned, LeAnn was snoring lightly on the elliptical-shaped bed in the center of the massive bedroom Stacy had graciously furnished us. The room was all blues and whites, like the sea. Sunlight was streaming through the big windows at the end of the room opposite the bed. The wall angled out elegantly so that morning sunlight filled the room from one end, leaving inhabitants to slumber peacefully at the other. It was cheerful and homey, with a lovely view of the ocean, still blue for a hundred miles or so. It was beautiful, but not as beautiful as the naked girl who was everything laying across the bed. Her white skin was breathtaking against the dark sapphire bedspread. It moved my heart to watch her sleeping so soundly, oblivious to the world around her, and the affect she had on it with her beauty. Hers was a beauty deeper than her graceful curves and hidden feminine delights. It was her heart and her soul which made the world more beautiful simply because she was in it.

  I had reached that moment of exhaustion when you either pass out or break through it. I hit that invisible wall on the drive back and come out on the other side. It would not be fair to LeAnn to wake her, but I was helpless against my desire to touch her in some way, exposed and lovely as she was. I sat next to her and gently caressed strands of her full dark mane as it cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. She lay face down on the pillow, her soft breasts sinking into the pretty blue fabric. She hadn't stirred and I slipped to the floor beside her, kissing lightly and tenderly her waist as it tapered down to her hips, then moving over the soft and supple rise of her delicious rear with wet, full kisses that elicited a pleasurable sound from the girl I worshipped. I kissed and licked her gorgeous legs until I reached her feet, kissing them adoringly. She turned over, opening her legs and reaching for me. I kissed her warm stomach and made love to her pink tipped mounds of loveliness while she ran sleepy fingers through my hair. I gave her a hungry nibble as I came off and her lips found mine. She was no longer asleep. She whispered in my ear, "Come inside me, darling." And I did. It was an ocean deeper and more wondrous than any outside, and it made the world right again before I fell asleep in her arms.

  It was twelve hours before I woke. LeAnn was not there, but the sounds of conversations punctuated by occasional laughter told me she and everyone else in our group was around. I showered and dressed in the clothes on the bed. Our bags were in the room so LeAnn must have at some point gone back with Annette to get our stuff. Stupid. I should have gone in case someone was watching the place. I saw a glint of light from the dark beach and after five minutes of careful observation, I counted three men watching the
shore for any boat landing. Stacy had made security arrangements. Probably from Edna's book. It meant they were top-notch. I'd only spotted them because they wanted to be seen. My guess was there were more that I couldn't see. Stacy was doing a bang up job. She was the same nice, wonderful gorgeous girl, but all grown up now, as LeAnn had put it last night. I made my way towards the sounds of the living.

  "Aw, man!" That was Pablo. There was much laughter, and Annette was holding out her hand. The others, including LeAnn, put money in it. Annette smiled at me.

  "I won the pool."

  "We had bets on how long you'd be asleep," explained Stacy, a bit embarrassed. "You still have a couple of hours before your flight."

  "I could have won," offered LeAnn, "but I played the dutiful wife and remained steadfast that you'd bounce right back, guessing very low."

  "Uh-huh."

  "Who went and got our things?"

  Stacy responded, "Oh, I had the CR from last night send someone out. There is a Civil Enforcement detail keeping an eye out front, though they're unaware of why, and Edna's security team is watching the beach."

  I nodded. "How much did you win?"

  "Fifty bucks!" answered Annette. "LeAnn told me your age. When I calculated all the extraneous factors…"

  I reached my hand playfully to cover her mouth and she ducked, laughing, "I decided an old dude like you, at least 11 or 12 hours."

  We were in the kitchen, which was actually quite cozy for a sprawling place like this. It had been designed for use as a home rather than for guests and entertaining. I wondered if Edna had built this for Stacy specifically. I watched her move about comfortably as she made us sandwiches and we milled around the table. She looked at home, like she fit here, and had always lived here. I was truly happy for her. I loved her, and so did LeAnn. Despite being blonde and gorgeous, she was sweet and real, possessing the gift of kindness so scarce in others. She was nice, in the best sense of that word. She was that rarest of girls becoming the loveliest of women right before our eyes. She was more relaxed, and I sensed some tiny obstruction preventing her from enjoying our friendship even more had been removed. I was just happy that she had found whatever it was that she needed, and marveled that once again, Edna Bascomb had known before her closest friends just how lost Stacy had been, and what she needed to make things right. Maybe Edna knew these things because she had once been very much like Stacy. Maybe she knew because she was so close to God. Maybe it was both.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  For even deep in the throes of battle with evil, love and romance can never be cast aside, because they are our shield and armor against the darkness

  Once we neared Cuba, a now sparsely populated country where people who hadn't escaped to Miami lived in abject poverty, we lost the stars out the plane window. It was a reminder that our world was made up of browns and grays, rain that could make you sick if it seeped into your skin, and an atmosphere in decay. Man had found the technology to stop Earth's bleeding, but only after a combination of natural and manmade disasters had damaged it dramatically. What had begun as a vacation for us in Mexico, one of the last clean pockets of atmosphere left on the planet, had become a scavenger hunt for truth. It seemed an ironic coincidence that the search for answers had led us to Miami, and now Rio, two more reminders of a world that once was, but was no more. I wondered where those living in such places vacationed? Where after all, could they go? In its own way, perhaps knowing they had no place left to go was their penance for not having to face the realities of twenty-second century life.

  Slowly, the stars reappeared, and in the distance, a beautiful mass of lights nestled between low mountains came into focus. LeAnn squeezed my arm, her eyes bright with excitement, her face alive with wonderment. One of the many remarkable things about the woman I loved was her ability to find wonder and romance in new places and situations. She was bright, intelligent, and fully aware of why we were here, and the danger that entailed. But she always had the ability to see the good, even in the face of ugliness. She was my camera lens to everything wonderful. The little romantic things which excited her were invariably those things which made life worth living, and made it worth fighting for.

  We were getting closer, the lights below clearer and brighter than only moments ago. Christ the Redeemer stood welcoming us with open arms. He had survived the centuries, remaining steadfast even when hardly anyone believed. We descended into beauty while Johnny Mathis' The Lights of Rio was heard throughout the plane. It was late morning as we touched down, day still a couple of hours away. Rio de Janeiro was special, even by twenty-second century standards. The pocket of non-contaminated atmosphere which protected it did not extend beyond its borders. Even its neighbor, Sao Paulo, was clothed in the browns and grays of the rest of the world. Tourism may have been big business even in the twentieth century for Rio, but it could not compare to the rush now. Only those who worked at the resorts and hotels actually lived in Rio. Immigration to Rio, even from within Brazil, was prohibited. Many wealthy and powerful captains of industry and political potentates trying to circumvent these restrictions had discovered they were not wealthy or powerful enough. The capital from tourism in Rio enabled those in what were termed 'dead zones' within Brazil to eat, and survive. It was a delicate balance that had to be maintained.

  A white limousine was waiting for us on the tarmac. The girl leaning against the fender was wearing a lovely cream colored dress with sort of a bodice looking upper half. It ended above her knees, which were very pretty. So was the rest of her. She wasn't tiny, she had curves, and they were lovely. When she smiled she was more than pretty. I suspected she could stand at the end of the runway and planes could land using only her smile as a guide. Her hair was long and sort of reddish brown, with a hint of blonde. Her teeth were white and her eyes a pale blue. I thought she was the most beautiful teenager I'd ever seen. Boys sixteen and seventeen were probably pitching tents on her front lawn.

  "Hi," she said enthusiastically. "I've been waiting ages to meet you guys! Mom and grandma talk about you all the time. I feel like I know you!"

  "And your mother would be…?"

  "Sorry!" she laughed. "I'm Meagan. Emily Bascomb is my mom. Edna's my great grandmother."

  "It's so nice to meet you," LeAnn offered her hand, smiling. "Your mom's really nice. We spent some time in Paris together once, and we try to stay in touch by phone from time to time."

  "Phone? Is that like a vid-com or telecom?" I smiled. Annette had more work to do. The word hadn't spread yet.

  "Yes," LeAnn laughed. "Don't mind us old folks, we talk funny sometimes."

  "Oh, that's alright. Grandma says stuff I don't get either." She put a finger to her lips in a secretive gesture, her eyes bright in the moonlight, and said, "Don't tell her, but sometimes I do get it and just pretend not to, just to be a stinker!"

  We all laughed. She was a wonderful girl, a kid now, and already hotter than the sun. I couldn't imagine her in ten or fifteen years. If I couldn't stop this thing, whatever it was, I wondered if any of us would be around then. We were loading up our bags when LeAnn asked, "Is your mom with you?"

  "No, she stayed with Alison, my sister, in San Francisco. I'm here with Grandma and Doc. I'm taking you to Grandma's hotel, the Copa. Have you guys heard of it?"

  The squirrel cage in my head was hard at work. Edna was here, rather than in New Chicago as she'd told Stacy. Either something had happened, or there was something she wanted to prevent from touching Stacy. Both were bad. We were in Rio de Janeiro, the Cidade Maravilhosa, so Meagan could only have been referring to the Copacabana Palace. Like the Hotel du Louvre in Paris, the Copa was old and elegant, a bastion to another time, a better time for man. Overlooking Copacabana Beach, it had been open since 1923, and had survived the centuries basically intact. Even the Art Deco doors remained. It was the place to vacation in Rio if you could afford it. It was said Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers had stayed there once. I had been unaware that Edna owned the Copa.<
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  "I guess everyone has heard of it," I finally answered. "I hear it's not bad."

  She got that I was kidding and laughed.

  "Yeah, you could say that." She looked at me, then asked, as she held her hands out, palms down, and did a little dance wiggle, accompanied by a head shake, "Is it true you're like this cool robot?"

  I thought LeAnn's face might break if her smile got any bigger. I replied, "Oh, yes, extremely cool."

  Meagan looked at me a moment, then we all broke up in gales of unrestrained laughter. I couldn't remember ever laughing so hard at anything. Meagan was adorable. She was just so out there in her honesty that you had to love her. Pretense did not exist for pretty Meagan Bascomb.

  She drove the big limo through the streets of Rio with skillful ease. She was a girl of many talents. The Copacabana Palace stood regally against the night sky of Rio de Janeiro. It was grand and imposing, and true to its name, a palace. As we headed inside, following Meagan, LeAnn whispered in my ear, "Isn't this wonderful?" I had my arm around her waist and let my hand slip down and squeeze her soft and sexy cheek. I whispered in her ear, "I can't wait to get your panties off." She whispered back, "Joke's on you, Daddy, I'm not wearing any." Yes, it was wonderful, and always would be as long as she whispered in my ear.

  Chapter Thirty

  For her beauty is within, and no artists' brush contains enough magic to capture her charms, because she is a glimpse into heaven itself

  We walked into another world when we went through the Art Deco doors of the Copacabana Palace. I felt as I had in Paris, as though some secret portal to the quiet elegance of yesteryear had been opened. Meagan was really in her wheelhouse now, giving us a whirlwind tour of the place. Her enthusiasm and bright-eyed sentimento de admiracao for the place was palpable and contagious. She had obviously spent a lot of time here as a kid, sharing with us juicy little titbits about her youthful transgressoes in various areas of the sprawling hotel.