by Rob Ashman
Moran pottered around loading the dishwasher and fixing coffee. She fetched her bag from the hall, unzipped a pocket and pulled out a photograph. She laid it on the table and ran her finger across it.
The kettle boiled and she poured water into the coffee pot to let it brew. She pulled two cups from the cupboard.
‘Come back to bed,’ a voice came from the bedroom.
‘In a minute, just making coffee.’
She returned to the photograph, it made her smile.
‘Hurry up!’ The voice was playfully insistent.
Moran had finally worked out why her track record with dating men was so crap. Judy was an elementary school teacher and was everything Moran was not. She was soft, girlie, colourful and a touch on the crazy side. They met at a job fair and hit it off straightaway. Three months later she moved in. Judy was now waiting for her late morning coffee.
Moran had left the force. The charges that were levelled at her melted away. Mills couldn’t prove she’d been at the public records office, and she managed to convince the disciplinary hearing that she was unfit for duty at the time she investigated the Nassra Shamon accounts. Having fifteen people testify that she threw up her breakfast during the morning briefing certainly helped. And quietly pointing out to Mills that he was on Bonelli’s payroll had helped a great deal.
Despite escaping with nothing more than a severe dressing down from the chief and a disciplinary note on her file, her heart was no longer in the job. Two weeks later she handed her badge in for good.
Now she worked at the University of Las Vegas lecturing in criminology. It was challenging at times but at least people didn’t tend to fire guns at her. For the first time in years she was happy and relaxed. She still wore black, but Judy had it as her life’s ambition to see her girlfriend dressed in pink one day.
Moran replaced the picture in her bag and zipped the pocket shut. She poured the coffee and headed back to bed.
Fabiano Bassano was watching baseball in his man-cave. The room was full of excited chatter as the additives from the fizzy drinks and chocolate snacks began to kick in and the kids went a little crazy. He liked nothing better than watching the game with his five grandchildren. They were mad about baseball and mad about Grandpa.
Whenever they got together it was always the same. The kids talked over the commentary, walked in front of the TV, and bombarded him with questions about the rules, but that was fine. For Fabiano Bassano, enjoying the ball game with his grandchildren had nothing to do with the ball game.
‘Hey, what’s going on,’ he cried, holding up an empty beer bottle. ‘Who’s on bar duty?’
One of the children reached up, snatched it from his grasp and dashed into the kitchen, returning a minute later with a frosted replacement, courtesy of Grandma.
Zak, the youngest, snuggled onto the chair alongside him.
‘Grandpa, why do you have this silly picture?’ His shock of black tousled hair hid his face as he gazed at a silver framed photograph in his tiny hand. He looked up, his moon face and bright eyes waiting for his favourite playmate to respond.
‘Yes, that is a silly picture, isn’t it?’
They both laughed.
‘What is it?’
‘I don’t know. Someone gave it to me. I like it, don’t you?’
‘Yes, I like it too.’
‘It makes me smile.’
‘It makes me smile too, Grandpa. Who gave it to you?’
‘A friend of Uncle Chris.’
‘Is he the one who died?’
‘Yes. He died when you were small.’
‘I like it.’ Zak turned the picture over in his hands and the frame caught the light.
‘I’ll let you into a secret.’ Fabiano bent his head and whispered into the child’s ear. ‘Do you know what today is?’
‘No, what?’
‘Today is its birthday.’
‘Its birthday?’ Zak was fixated, not taking his eyes off the image. ‘How can a picture have a birthday?’
‘Well, it’s one year ago today that the photograph was taken.’
‘Wow, then it does have a birthday.’ Zak and his grandpa sang Happy Birthday. But Grandpa struggled on occasion to get his words out. When they finished he dabbed his eyes with his sleeve.
‘Now put it back and we can watch the game.’
Zak shuffled off the chair and placed it on the shelf.
It was an odd photograph.
It showed a length of green metal tubing poking out of the ground with a carved wooden plug jammed in the top.
The End
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Readers who enjoyed Pay The Penance will also enjoy the first two books in the Mechanic Trilogy also by Rob Ashman.
Those Who Remain .
In Your Name .