by B. D. Gates
BISHOP'S RUN SERIES #2
DOUBLE PLAY
B. D. GATES
All rights to this work belong to B. D. Gates
April 2018
Acknowledgments and Disclaimers
The characters, places, and events in this story are all imaginary and none of them exist in real life.
I wish they did.
A most heartfelt thank you to all who read "Bishop's Run"--your love, support, and encouragement was taken with great gratitude.
And to all who asked "and then what happened," this is dedicated to you.
The people you meet are the stars that guide you home.
--from a fortune cookie found in Tess's jacket pocket
"C'mon, Penny, we're gonna be late!"
All of the activity of the past month had led up to this event, all of the preparations and planning centered on making this one day perfect for the happy couple. And we were going to be late.
"Penny!"
"I'm coming!"
We ran for the Jeep, stowed our gear, and headed for Penny's house out on Lake Treadwell, the site of the ceremony.
So, it had all started two months before, when Dr. Biggs had invited me to dinner. I was walking to the Jeep, heading home after softball practice, when I heard Biggs calling me. I turned as she made her way towards me across the parking lot.
"Got a minute?"
"Sure, Coach, what's up?"
"I wanted to talk to you earlier today, but then we got busy. It's important. Could you have dinner with me? Tonight?"
I just looked at her. I don't really respond well when anyone says "we need to talk." It's been my experience that nothing good ever follows those words.
"Good god, Baxter, don't look so scared."
"Well, ah, okay...Coach."
Coach Biggs looked at me, somewhat perplexed. "Can you meet me at Harvey's in about fifteen, twenty minutes?"
Harvey's was a little steakhouse out on Christmas Road, or State Road 1225. I knew the place, but I'd never been there.
"Okay. Sure."
"Great. See you there."
I had no idea what she had in mind. None at all. This was going to be interesting, to say the least.
I got there first and waited in the parking lot. Biggs' SUV pulled in about five minutes later. I walked to the door, waited for her to catch up.The interior was dimly lit, a typical steakhouse with dark paneling and wall sconces turned down low, candles on the individual tables. The hostess seated us in a booth midway down the row and took our drink orders.
I opened the menu, took in the offerings. Biggs apparently already knew what she wanted, since she didn't bother to look at hers.
It was a slow night, there were only two other couples in the restaurant, three or four patrons in the adjoining bar. The hostess was also acting as waitress, since she took our orders after bringing our beer. Biggs took a big swallow of hers, then let out a long breath. I looked over at her, curious about what was coming next.
"I suppose you're wondering what's going on," said Biggs, with a small smile.
I just nodded.
"Well, I guess the best thing to do is to just get right to it."
Again, I just nodded.
"How long have you worked for me, now? Fourteen, fifteen months?"
"Something like that," I answered.
"And you've played for my team as well."
I nodded.
"And, in that short time, I think we've gotten to know each other pretty well," she said. "We've spent a lot of time together. Taking care of animals after hours, working in surgery. We've talked about so many different things, including our personal lives, and, well, I guess that, in the greater scheme of things, you know more about me than anyone else in the office."
I had no idea where Biggs was going, what the hell she was thinking.
"I need to tell you something, Baxter."
What? What, what, what?
"I've asked Carole to marry me and she said 'yes.'"
I was immediately relieved and enlightened, all at once. "Oh, my god, that's great! Wonderful! Congratulations!"
Biggs smiled. "Yes, it is, thank you. So now, here's what I want to ask you. Would you be my best...what do they call it? Surely not 'best man,' but whatever that role for us would be. My second?"
"I think that's only for duels, or maybe on the battlefield, but I know what you mean. Sharon, I would be more than honored. I accept."
I was smiling, as much in relief as in...well, no, relief pretty much covered it. "So, have you set a date?"
"We're thinking the last weekend in May. After the softball season ends."
"Sweet."
"Carole's idea."
"Ha! Of course. How long have you two been together?"
"Going on three years. Long enough to know that it's what we both want. I love her, Baxter, god knows I do, and I don't want to spend a day of my life without her in it."
I nodded. I knew what she meant.
"So, where are you holding the big event?"
"We haven't really found a place yet. Carole wants to have it outside, and I suggested the..."
"Ball field." I interjected.
Sharon laughed. "That's what I said, too. Carole would prefer it be near water, so we're looking around at various locations."
I was suddenly struck with an idea, but I needed to talk to Penny before I said anything to Sharon.
2
I filled Penny in the following night while we were on a stake-out. She thought that my idea was fantastic, agreeing that her house on Lake Treadwell was the perfect setting for the wedding of Dr./Coach Biggs and the love of her life, Carole Daley. She'd even offered to provide her services as photographer, delighting them, both more than impressed with her portfolio, which included her award-winning photo in Southern Lifestyles.
That was the photo that had led to a shoot-out at the Whitmore airport involving me, Penny, and my former partner, the man who'd vowed to kill me for turning him in to the Baltimore PD. Up to that point, I had been living in Tenley via the Witness Protection Program under the assumed name of Lisa Baxter, shortened to 'Baxter' by most everyone, working for Dr. Biggs in her animal hospital, and playing for her softball team, the Tenley Pride.
So, later that same week, Penny and Carole surveyed her yard and drew up plans for the ceremony and reception. Biggs and I just went where we were told to go, giving them total control.
It was going to be one helluva party.
3
Now, about that stake-out. Over the course of the past eighteen months or so, there had been an epidemic of tool-shed and out-building break-ins in and around Tenley when I'd arrived from Baltimore. They were episodic, and the thief, or thieves, had left nothing more than a size 13 boot print at only two of the numerous scenes.
I'd had a moment of clarity a little over two months ago when I'd met Charlie, the brother-in-law of the Pride's starting pitcher, Stacey, and I did a little investigating on my own, which led me to take Penny and her camera on an initial stake-out of his junk business. We had noted some suspicious activity during our little operation, and we followed up with more sessions of surreptitious snooping.
We staked out Charlie's junk shop for over two months, noting the after-hours activity at his warehouse, Penny snapping pictures with her telephoto lens, then developing them in her lab.
I had spent some evenings putting together a file in which I made my case for implicating Charlie in the break-ins, for delivery to Whyte and Fowler, two of the three Tenley PD detectives who had been assigned to my protection detail when I'd first arrived in town. Detective Tess Hayes was the third member and had been left to handle the ful
l detail when it was decided that I was in no imminent danger of being found and killed.
The hardest part of her assignment had been in dealing with me.
I entered the Police Department and stood in front of the desk sergeant, waiting my turn to ask to see the detectives. George was preparing a visitor's pass for a woman who was there to see her son, telling the sergeant that he'd been arrested for breaking and entering his former girlfriend's house to retrieve his belongings, things that she'd refused to return to him after they'd broken up, swearing to the desk sergeant that he was innocent.
Hearing the story, I felt for the guy. I'd lost a few things, over the course of my lifetime, and I considered 'breaking and entering' myself, to get back the items that were, in my opinion, irreplaceable. I thought twice, though, and waited for the heat of the breakups to die down, then go back and ask for my stuff.
On one such occasion, I did not get my clothes and other items back, as I was informed by my former lover that she had burned everything in a "cleansing ritual," which, to me, had only made my decision to break up with her that much wiser.
George finished with the woman, who took a seat against the wall as she waited for an officer from the jail to put her son in a visitor's room and then come to the front to escort her back. I stepped up to the window.
"My name is Baxter. Lisa Baxter. I'd like to see Detective Whyte or Detective Fowler, if either one is available." George looked at me, his forehead slightly furrowed as I made my request.
"Do I know you?" George asked.
"I came in one day last year with Tess. I mean, Detective Hayes," I answered.
"Ah, the airport," George replied. He was referring to the shoot-out.
"Yes," I admitted.
"Ahuh."
"So, Detective Whyte? Fowler?"
"Just a minute." He picked up a phone, punched in a two-digit number. He told whoever answered that "Lisa Baxter is here to see you."
I stepped away from the desk, stood over near the wall, close to where the mother was waiting to see her son. I nodded to her as I leaned against the wall. Hopefully, I wouldn't have to wait long.
A minute or so passed, and the door to the bullpen opened. Detective Whyte, tall and moderately built, looked across the room at me as he held the door.
"Baxter! Come on back," he said. I walked past the Desk Sergeant, who gave me a bit of a side-eye as I passed by.
"So, what brings you here?" Whyte asked. He looked at the folder under my arm.
"Well, Whyte, I've got something that may interest you." We walked on over to his desk, on the far side of the room, abutting another desk that I supposed was still Fowler's.
"Okay, well, just give me a minute, let me clean this up. Have a seat."
Evidence of his just-finished lunch was on his desk and he pulled the sandwich wrapper edges together to corral the remnants, picked up the empty cup. "I'll be right back," he said, as he headed towards the door that I suspected led to the employees' locker room and kitchenette. I stood, watched him go, then, well, I couldn't help but turn and look over at what was once Tess's desk.
It was bare, unused. Apparently, no one had moved in after she left. I thought about the day she'd brought me here, brief though the visit was, smiled as I recalled rearranging my chair so that I could see the room, rather than having my back to it, her glare at me as she found us sitting practically side-by-side when she'd come back from the Captain's office.
I was still standing, looking at her desk, when Whyte got back. He must have noticed, caught my smile as I recalled that day.
"Ever hear from her, Bishop?"
I was caught by surprise when he called me by that name, my real name, the only name Tess had ever called me, the single exception on the day she'd left me standing alone in the ballpark lot, the day that she'd told 'Baxter' that she'd signed off on 'her' case. I shook my head.
"No. You?"
"Yeah, well, not directly. Joe's heard from her, about her, since his wife talks to her fairly frequently."
"She doing okay?"
"Huh. You know Tess, she'd suck it up, stick it out no matter what."
I nodded. I had been one more difficult thing that she'd had to deal with, live through. I, however, had found her breaking point, causing her to quit me, to end her assignment of providing police protection to me, to end our friendship that had grown out of it. The exact cause of her defection was based on a huge misunderstanding, but that's beside the point.
It seems to be a talent of mine, apparently, to disappoint women to the point of driving them away.
"How's Fowler?"
"Joe's good, he's out today, it's his wedding anniversary and he took his wife out for a day trip to the beach. So, what brings you here?"
I laid out the case, showing Whyte the pictures, giving him the details regarding Charlie's business, the layout of his warehouse. None of it was concrete evidence, but his activity was suspicious enough that even Whyte was interested.
"Something fishy going on over there," Whyte agreed with me, as he looked more closely at a photo. "That activity after-hours certainly makes me wonder."
I nodded.
"Well, I'll review this with Fowler, see what he thinks, and we'll follow up. It'd be nice to put an end to these break-ins, mostly because they're so damned aggravating. My phone ringing at three o'clock in the morning pisses me off to start with, but to then have to go investigate a tool-shed break-in? That really ices my jets."
I laughed. Yeah, it would mine, too, I thought.
So, I left the folder with Whyte and took one last look at Tess's desk as I made my way to the door.
4
I was sitting in my Jeep in the Tenley PD parking lot.
The scent of her perfume was in my nose, the taste of her skin on my tongue. I had had moments of recall involving Tess before, times we'd shared, but none of them had enveloped me like this. I let the memories flow, smiling as I saw her, us, at the dinners, the Pride team cook-out, playing with the dogs in the back yard.
Those innocuous thoughts turned to the night we'd spent together, the night Tess had taken me into hiding from my former partner. It was the night we'd made love, declared our love for each other, neither of us knowing when that phone call from the Program would come, the call that would take me away from her, away from Tenley.
In the end, however, she was the one to leave, as she ventured away from the only place she'd ever known, intent on taking that journey into the bigger world, leaving me here.
Damn.
Tess.
I miss you.
5
Tess Hayes woke with a start.
A loud bang had brought her out of a deep sleep, her hand instinctively wrapping around the grip of her service weapon tucked against the headboard. Early morning light was seeping through the cracks in the drapes and the clock's red numbers showed 7:00.
On a Saturday.
After nearly a year, she still had not gotten used to the sounds of the city.
She sat up on the edge of the bed, stretched, then sighed. Awake now, she considered the list of errands she'd made the night before, sitting at the kitchen table provided with her lease of the furnished apartment. There were groceries to be bought, among other things, but she could do all of that in the afternoon, it really didn't matter the time, the stores were always full of people whenever she shopped. It seemed to Tess that she spent a lot of her time standing in line, waiting, no matter what she did or when she did it.
She stood up and stretched again.
Might as well start with a run.
6
“Tess! Hey, Tess!”
Tess stopped, jogging in place as she looked around the park. Maybe she was imagining it, but someone had called her name. Her eyes swept over the landscape, stopping when she saw her partner, Detective Miranda Miller, standing to the side of the coffee truck parked at the curb. Tess smiled and headed over.
“I hate you, you know,” Miranda said, her smile contra
dicting her words as Tess pulled up in front of the short, round woman.
Tess laughed. “No, you don't. You love that you can send me after the runners.”
Miranda chuckled. “Don't you know it. I love the looks on their faces when you run them down. Stuns them every time!”
Both women laughed at that, Tess nodding. “Do you remember that one guy, the one who took off out the passenger side of the car, had a twenty-yard lead and he just stopped dead when I caught him by the arm? The look on his face.”
“I don't know whether it was because you caught him or because he was beaten by a girl.”
“A little of both, I think. And then, his buddy giving him such a hard time about it. I mean, they're both in handcuffs and he's steady ragging the guy,” Tess took on a masculine tone. “Bruh. It was like you was standin' still. Bruh. Seriously. That was sick. She's a girl. Bruh.”
Both women chuckled over that. Miranda stirred her coffee, then capped it before they made their way over to a bench under the trees. “So, Tess, it's early, what are you doing out on a Saturday morning when you could be sleeping?”
Miranda had three kids, two boys and a girl, and her day always started bright and early. It was on purpose, usually, because it was the only “alone” time Miranda had in her day, and it helped her keep her sanity.
“Oh, well, you know, things to do, places to go, people to see...”
“Yeah? And just what have you got on your agenda today?”