by K. T. Tomb
Alex glowered at her and stuck out her tongue.
Carmen looked up into her eyes. “You’re alright though?”
Alex nodded. “You?” She got a nod in response.
“Come on, ladies. Unless we plan to sit here soaked in sauce, I think we should go upstairs and change. We can order room service in my room,” Storm suggested. Carmen nodded and nudged a stunned Alex with her elbow. “Come on.”
A glob of red spaghetti slipped off the table into Storm’s lap.
“Time to go,” Storm said and he pushed them away from the table.
They trudged upstairs and Storm opened the door of his room, letting the couple in. He went straight to the bathroom and undressed donning a pair of jeans and a t-shirt from earlier in the day.
Carmen was rummaging in one of the drawers and pulled out a small first aid kit.
“Good, they have these here.” She came over and squatted down next to Alex, grabbing her hand. She used a disinfectant wipe to clean the cut, making Alex squeal in pain. “Stop being a baby,” Carmen told her, earning another glowering look from Alex. Carmen pulled out a bandage and wrapped it around Alex’s index finger. Then she looked up into her eyes and smiled. She kissed the finger. “There, all better.”
Alex ran her hand over Carmen’s cheek and chin and brought her face down, pressing her lips on Carmen’s. She closed her eyes as she kissed her.
“Thanks,” she said when she broke away.
A little uncomfortable with the two women’s PDA, Storm grabbed the remote for the television and switched on the news. Immediately, there came the loud noise of an engine and rotors. In an instant, he knew what it was; a news chopper. Storm noticed instantly that the definition of the picture was better and the camera steadier than it had been when they’d used a drone that morning.
On the television, they saw the circle of men with guns firing randomly at a shed in an upstate New York home’s backyard. The camera caught one of them falling, but Storm did not see a single muzzle flash from the shed.
“Did they just shoot someone?” Carmen asked.
“Wouldn’t be surprised if it were friendly fire. It doesn’t look as if they're trying to save their ammo, does it?”
Storm snickered. “It’ll be fun for the lawyer who has to begin sorting that out.”
Jack seemed to have had a rest, but now it was show time for him again. The theme for his show sounded, followed by his dramatic summary of the events.
“Earlier today the police found the two Bainbridge brothers fleeing the Rochester, New York area allegedly heading for the Canadian border. A chase ensued which ended in the town of Batavia, where the robbers opened fire on police then abandoned their vehicle and fled into a nearby neighborhood.
As they did, one of the two was caught under the wheels of a police car. Police officers immediately called for help, but the elder brother, Timothy, tried to shoot the police officers trying to help him and the police were forced to kill him in self-defense. The younger brother John fled on foot and was pursued by police. The police now have him cornered in the backyard garden shed of one of those homes in Batavia. John Bainbridge is reportedly returning fire and the police are under attack, risking their own lives to catch this dangerous criminal.”
Storm began laughing. “Seriously?”
Both Alex and Carmen looked at him. He pointed at the TV. “Maybe they should have thought it through a little more before they cleared the chopper to catch it all on film. I’ve seen the flashes of police guns and rifles, but I haven't seen a single shot fired from the shed itself.” He shook his head.
Alex smiled at him. “Well, guess it’s more Hollywood fiction than current affairs then.”
“Looks like it,” Carmen muttered. “At least on the news.”
Storm nodded. “Something’s definitely going on, but I’m pretty sure that last bit was a load of horse manure.”
An ambulance showed up on the side of the garden, and they could see two of the dark figures drag someone towards it. One of them fell down with a scream and the ambulance crew rushed forward to help both men to the ambulance. From the footage, Storm could see both downed men moving, but they seemed to be in agony.
The gunfire began coming in waves. It would stop for a while, then break out again, the muzzle flashes lighting up the night sky in the garden, the sharp bangs and rattles tearing the silence of the deserted city streets apart
Towards midnight Carmen sighed and turned from the television. She laid herself down on the bed and closed her eyes. Alex came closer to Storm and her fingers brushed his thigh lightly as she sat next to him and they looked at each other. “Think this will last long?”
There was another scream. They both snapped back to the TV. Carmen rose up in the bed and looked at them. “What happened?”
“Another one bites the dust,” Alex said. One more policeman had gone down.
“Still can’t see any fire from the shed,” Storm remarked.
“We just had news that John Bainbridge; the man who allegedly robbed the Federal Reserve Bank in New York City yesterday, along with his now dead brother Timothy Bainbridge, has now shot three police officers,” Jack said. “The FBI will be giving a statement on the developments in a few minutes. Our live coverage of all the events surrounding the manhunt will continue.”
Carmen sank back onto the bed and sighed. “For fuck’s sake.” She closed her eyes.
Alex tapped Storm’s thigh and got up. She went over to the bed and laid herself down, wrapping an arm around Carmen, kissing her cheek lightly. Carmen rolled over, not opening her eyes and wrapped her arms around Alex. She kissed her lips and smiled contentedly. Storm smiled as he watched the two of them fall asleep, despite the loud newscast on the TV.
He pulled up a chair and sat down by the window, keeping half an eye on the images flashing across the TV screen and listening to the noises of the now fully liberated streets of Manhattan. The press conference came and went, but by then Storm was beyond caring and he was slowly drifting into sleep as well.
He woke up as the light began to appear on the horizon. He jumped up and looked bleary-eyed at the TV, trying to focus on the imagery that was being captured in the wan light of the early morning.
A news anchor came on the television.
“We just received an update on the situation in New York. The FBI just announced that alleged bank robber, John Bainbridge, was apprehended in an RV parked a short distance from the Fort Erie border crossing in Buffalo, New York.
“Bainbridge was shot in the throat when SWAT stormed the RV, where he had been preparing to cross the border into Canada. The ambulance crew confirmed to the FBI he has been shot in the vocal chords and is unlikely to be able to speak again. But it seems the terrible situation in the state of New York is finally over. The FBI said they will hold a press conference as soon as all the facts have been gathered But have advised that all curfews that were enforced last night in the Rochester, Batavia and Buffalo areas o New York have officially been lifted.”
Storm watched smoke drifting from an old RV and he saw three people moving in towards the vehicle. There was a bang and an astonishing amount of shouting. When all three were inside the RV there was the sound of one gunshot and then a man came out, gesturing to the ambulance crew that was gathered a short way beyond a yellow police line.
The two men dragged someone out of the shed. Storm saw blood on the man’s throat and he assumed he was dead, until he kicked with one of his feet. The police officers dropped him to the floor immediately and pointed their weapons at him. But he just kept twitching. The medical responders came jogging up with a gurney and they carried him away as quickly as they could.
Storm saw Alex look up at him then. “It’s over?”
Storm nodded. “Seems so.”
She sank back down, kissing Carmen’s forehead. “Guess breakfast will be on me this morning.”
Chapter Four
It was four months later and Storm sat in the glori
ous sunshine on the back porch of his Hamptons home.
The house had been handed down through the family for a few generations, until it had come to him. He liked the place. It was much better than his place in Manhattan, he figured. It was calm and the social scene was more relaxed.
For most, it was a place to vacation but there was still a fair number of people who lived there permanently. The houses of the locals were small and quaint New England homes, the bigger houses invariably belonged to people who spent most of their lives in the city, but they were charming. It was such a dramatic change from the concrete and glass of Manhattan.
His neighbors there had been bankers, but they had been hit hard in the credit crunch. The house had been empty for three years now. It had annoyed him to see the beautiful building empty and growing less and less attractive as the paint peeled off and the fittings began to sag. But the peace of having no neighbors did agree with him.
Just the other day he thought he might buy the place and fix it up a bit, then just leave it empty, but that morning the real estate agent came down to take away the for sale sign that had been in the front yard for two-and-a-half years. He spoke to the agent for a second, but he told him he had not met the people himself. Apparently, they had come into some money recently and were looking to buy. They had also bought an empty warehouse in the harbor of the nearby village, but he had no idea what they were going to be doing with either property.
So Storm sat in the backyard, enjoying the sunshine, waiting to see whether the new neighbors would arrive. He had brought out a pair of binoculars just in case. He did not want to spy, but he did want to see the people coming to live next door to him. And even along the beach it would be a five-minute walk to their house. He did not want to make the walk over to introduce himself unless he knew there were actually some people there.
Closing his eyes he listened to the sound of the waves, and before he knew it he was drifting away. He yawned and twisted his head sideways, forcing his head deeper into the cushion attached to the seat behind his head. Within moments he was asleep.
He had a vivid dream. He was back in a hotel room, looking out of the window at a scene that was absolute carnage. It was dark, but a gun battle raged, tracer rounds causing small fires on every dry spot and lighting up the night. On each side of the field were two lines of police officers. They fired at each other and they were dropping like flies on both sides. Blood spurted up in the same way as it did in that action film, ‘300’. It was like a cartoonish picture before his eyes. Lights flashed and sirens sounded.
Then his attention shifted from the battle to something behind him. On the bed were two women. He could not make out their faces, but they were making passionate love. He had not noticed them before, but he did now.
A window shattered, and suddenly the blood flared up at the bed. He could feel shards of glass showering him, but he stared aghast at the carnage beyond. Both women were still, unmoving on the bed. Their bodies soaked in blood.
With a shock, Storm woke up. Looking around, he felt dazed, the images from the dream were still running through his mind. He looked out over the water and slowly came back to the real world. His heart was racing. He turned his head and gazed at the empty house next door. That was what had brought him out of his dream completely.
There was movement over there. Two people were walking around the back garden. There was a car in the driveway. He reached for the binoculars and looked again. The car was an old, beaten up Land Rover Defender. Using the binoculars, he tried to find the people in the yard again, but he could not see them. He kept looking at the property and finally he did see the people. They had gone into the home and were moving around in the kitchen. Through the window, he saw a shock of long ginger hair and someone wearing a green cap. They hugged and kissed and disappeared out of his view.
Glancing down at his watch he took note of the time. After taking a moment to think he decided to drop in on the new neighbors in forty minutes and invite them over for dinner. His own chef was still in Brooklyn, but he was a decent enough cook himself, and he knew he had the makings of a great meal in his fridge and on his shelves.
He went inside and made himself something to drink, then grabbed his tablet and began checking his emails. The frustration never did disappear these days. His practice was boring right now, and he had not had an entertaining case since the insane killing spree of a pop star client of his. Not a single case to entertain him and take his mind off that. The Brown case had been a dud, the events around the robbery at the Federal Reserve Bank had taken his mind off his boredom at the time, but nothing had happened since. Four months had passed, and getting new neighbors at his Hamptons home was the most interesting thing that had happened.
Storm checked his watch again and saw it had been the forty minutes he planned to wait. He opened the door and stepped outside. Immediately he stepped back in and grabbed a jacket. The twilight had brought the cold with it. He closed the door and pulled his jacket on while walking. Not wanting to appear too familiar on a first meeting by coming around the back via the beach, he walked along the road.
It only took him five minutes to reach the door of the other house. It had always been a nice house. Right now it still was, though it was obvious the new owners would need to give it some tender loving care. Half-expecting it to be broken after such a long time of disuse, he rang the doorbell. It was not and the sound rang out clear through the house. He heard a woman swear. After a minute he heard footsteps in the hall. The person coming to the door was wearing work boots which made a distinct noise on the parquet flooring.
The door opened to show a woman staring at him from the dark hallway, peeking into the twilight of outside. “Fucking hell,” the woman said. “I can honestly say that you were the last person I expected to turn up at my front door, Storm.”
It took a moment for Storm to recognize her in the bad light, but then he smiled. He recognized the woman. “Hi, Alex. Fancy meeting you here!”
She came forward to give him a hug. “Been a while. What are you doing here?”
Storm hugged her back and then jerked his thumb to his own house down the road. “It appears I am your new neighbor.”
Alex smiled. “Good to know there’s at least one neighbor I’ll get along with. You want to come in?”
“Of course, though I did come by to invite you to dinner at mine.”
Alex frowned and pursed her lips. “In that case, we’ll come to yours in a bit and I’m sure we have some coffee somewhere for after.”
Storm narrowed his eyes. “You mean you have Carmen undressed and you’re not sure she’s made herself decent yet?”
“Something like that,” Alex said with an innocent look. Then she kissed his cheek and winked. “See you in half an hour?”
“Sure.”
“Great.” She winked again and darted back in, closing the door behind her.
Storm got cracking on some meatballs, sealing them before adding the ingredients for the tomato sauce to the pan. He began tearing up some salad leaves and chopping tomatoes, cucumber and some carrots and feta. He toasted some pine nuts and was just about to make the dressing when the doorbell rang. He opened the kitchen window and put his head out. “Garden door is open.” He closed the window again and began mixing his salad dressing. He had water on the boil, salted already, and he placed a bunch of spaghetti in it just as the garden door opened. “Welcome to the Hamptons,” he said, turning around.
Both women were dressed casually, and Alex had put her cap back on, which she now wrenched off her head. “Smells good,” Carmen said.
“Well, hope it is. Simple fare, but should be good,” Storm said. “Sit yourselves down, it’ll be done in about eight minutes.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw Carmen and Alex sit down at the round kitchen table and he finished the meal. He made polite conversation, but it was all the sad banalities he would normally spout off and the answers to which he would forget in about ten minut
es flat. Only when he was done with the food did his mind return. He brought the food to the table, set down some plates and cutlery and then joined Carmen and Alex. “Help yourselves.”
Alex and Carmen told him they had just bought the house there because Alex could use the warehouse at the harbor as her new wharf. There were good options for getting supplies and the warehouse was bigger than the small shed she had been working from earlier. It was a great opportunity for business, and they could finally get a proper house together. Carmen worked in the city, but she got a job at a sub-office not far away. Previously she had lived in an apartment in Manhattan. Alex had lived in a tiny cabin up the coast for years. Now, finally, they could set up their own home together.
After the plates were completely clean, Storm made some coffee. Alex did offer to have coffee at their place, but Storm said they could treat him to brunch the next day as he did not want to finish their few supplies in one evening.
They sat down in the living room and the first thing Alex did was flick on the television. Carmen shook her head. “Can you tell she’s the butch one?”
Storm laughed, but Alex just glowered at her. “I just haven’t watched television in two months. And we don’t have anything other than your laptop and no Internet yet.”
The first thing Alex put on was the news.
“The trial of Federal Reserve Bank robber, John Bainbridge, was due to start today. But for a variety of reasons, Bainbridge’s defense just doesn’t seem to be able to pull things together. There have been several postponements granted by the judge so his lawyer can prepare properly but as a result, the whole trial is stalled. In other news...”
A soap opera came up on the screen, then some music and a program with idiots being knocked down and falling over. Another dozen programs came past, before Carmen grabbed the remote from Alex and turned the television off.
“Enough of that.” Alex put on a grumpy face, sat back, and crossed her arms. Carmen turned to Storm. “So have you been up to anything interesting lately?”