The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20

by Jacqueline Druga

  “Joe, I don’t want to talk about why she was blackmailing me. I don’t. All right. There’s just things. There are . . . things. It’s not important.”

  “I have to argue that point, Henry. It is very important. If she had something on you that you didn’t want out, then you have a very plausible motive for killing her.”

  Henry’s hands slapped to the chair as he stood up. “Then I had a plausible reason for killing her. If staying a viable suspect is the way to protect things from getting out, then keep me on the suspect list. I’m done.” He walked to the door and paused to look at Grace. “I am exercising my option to call it quits on the questioning right now. I’m . . . I’m distressed.” With a slam of the door, Henry left.

  Joe did his routine questioning, quick look to Frank to check for signs if Henry was the one he saw. Again, Frank let him down. With an exhale he stood up. “That went well. I need coffee. Grace? Feel like walking to Tracking to steal a cup?”

  “Yes.” She stood up. “Frank?”

  Frank shook his head. “I’ll wait here. Go on.” He lifted his clipboard of notes and sat on the edge of the desk but only until his father and Grace had left. Then Frank, after looking at the door again, walked to Joe’s seat and sat down. Not like he wouldn’t get a chance to later, but at that moment Frank wanted to read what his father wrote down. He picked up Joe’s notes at the same time he sat. Sighing out heavily, Frank read and dropped the notes to the desk then spoke softly to himself. “Man, Henry. If you don’t fuckin calm down you’re gonna be paying a high price for keeping such a stupid secret.” Shaking his head, Frank leaned back in thought. “If . . . if it’s the secret I’m thinking about.”

  ^^^^

  “O.K., so listen, Dean . . .” Ellen followed him around the lab.

  “El, I’m busy. Can’t you help instead of talking?”

  “No, I have Andrea’s service to prep and I have puffs in the oven.”

  Dean paused in his organizing. He mouthed the word ‘puffs?’

  “So, listen. Dean, if you stop and listen, I’ll be done.”

  “Fine.” He set a stack of work orders on the counter and faced her. “I’m all yours.”

  Ellen giggled. “Thanks.”

  Dean rolled his eyes and waved his hand to hurry her along.

  “Dean, please. Anyhow . . . the reason Henry is taking Nick so much is because Hector is helping him to learn how to be a father. He had two children that passed away in the old world.” Ellen shook her head. “We related on that tragedy. We talked about it for a good forty minutes over eggs.”

  “Was this when I had the kids scattered about so you could rest and sleep?”

  “Yeah, so, Hector is helping him out. That’s why Henry is getting better.”

  “A-ha.” Dean nodded. “What was so wrong with learning from me and Frank?”

  “Well, Dean, you’re not Hector. Hector really enjoys it because, like he said to me, when is he going to get a chance in this world to be a father. With Henry, he’s getting that chance. They’ve become very good friends.”

  “I should think so considering they’re gay lovers.”

  Ellen gasped.

  “What?” Dean asked.

  “They are not.”

  “El . . .” Dean hid his snicker. “Stop it. They are too.”

  “No, what in the world would make you say that?”

  “Um, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that we saw Henry in his underwear and Hector came down the steps wearing only a towel.”

  “Yeah, so. That doesn’t mean anything.”

  Dean stared at her for a minute. “Who are you trying to convince, me or you?”

  “Mostly you. I know what I believe.”

  “And you believe Hector and Henry aren’t a couple.”

  “Absolutely.”

  With a hand on his hip and his eyes on Ellen, Dean nodded. “I know you aren’t that dumb. So I am going to assume . . . . no.” He covered her mouth before she spoke. “I am going to assume this is a big Ellen act for the sake of Henry.”

  With his hand still covering her mouth, Ellen walked to Dean. When she was so close that they almost touched, she lowered his hand and whispered. “If it is a big act for the sake of Henry, could you maybe think of playing the same act? Because if he is a couple with Hector, he really doesn’t want anyone to know.”

  “I won’t say anything.” Dean kept his voice level the same as hers.

  “I appreciate it.”

  “How much.” He lifted his head slightly as he spoke softly.

  “Why?” Ellen smiled.

  “Well . . .” Dean stepped even closer and tilted his head. “I was just hoping there was something in it for me.”

  Ellen’s eyes locked into his. “What did you want?”

  “This.” Body to body and with a slight push, Dean backed Ellen into the counter and kissed her. In that kiss, they got lost. But their first real sign of reunion was interrupted by the clearing of a throat. Pulling his lips from Ellen’s, but not too far, Dean raised his eyes to see Elliott. “Sgt. Ryder.”

  Ellen looked over her shoulder then quickly turned her back again. Her fingers touched her lips as if to wipe away the kiss.

  Dean’s eyes picked up on that at the same time he caught himself doing the same thing.

  “I’m sorry for interrupting,” Elliott said, “I’m here for my treatment.”

  “Yes.” Dean nodded. “I have Patient Room Thirty-four all ready. If you want to head down, I’m right behind you.”

  “Yes, sir.” Elliott moved to the door. “Ellen.” He blinked long when she only lifted her hand in acknowledgment without turning around. After a single nod, he walked out.

  “That . . .” Dean whispered. “. . .was wrong.” He took a step away and stopped. “And just for doing that, I am telling Elliott not to come to Beginnings for his treatment tomorrow.”

  “Dean. No. He needs his treatment.”

  “That’s right and he’ll get it. In New Bowman because I’m packing up the stuff for your trip there tomorrow and you will give it to him.”

  “Dean . . .”

  “Bye Ellen.” Dean walked to the door.

  “Dean . . .”

  Turning the bend from the lab, Dean’s voice faded as he walked. “Go finish your puffs.”

  Ellen huffed out and hit her hand on the counter. “I hate him.” She folded her arms, was angry for a second then shrugged with an ‘oh, well’ and went off as instructed, to finish her puffs.

  ^^^^

  “All right.” Joe said with the exhale of cigarette smoke. “Who do we have?” He looked at the papers spread on the desk. “Jess’s, Danny’s, Hector’s . . .”

  “Henry’s.” Frank added as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a rolled up piece of paper.

  Joe with a perturbed look, peered up and straightened the wrinkled paper. “You know how I feel about this.”

  “I forgot to give it to you. He only gave it to me about . . .”

  “No, Frank, about wrinkling the papers.”

  Frank rolled his eyes. “Go to the copy machine and copy it. There. It won’t be wrinkled anymore.”

  “Smart ass.” Joe shook his head as he flipped through the pages. “Jason’s is here.” He lifted a paper and winced. “I can’t read Josephine’s handwriting. Did you tell her to be sober when she comes up?”

  “Yeah, but she won’t listen.”

  “Who’s left? Dean and Ellen.”

  “They probably are waiting until they have a moment to work on it together.”

  “They aren’t allowed to do that. Did they say they would do that?”

  “No,” Frank replied. “But I know them. Bet me they are the same, word for word.”

  “Then I’ll lock them in two separate goddamn rooms and make them write them all over again.” Joe looked through the statements. “Jenny’s is here. Then all that would be left is Elliott’s . . .”

  “I just saw him going in for a treatment. He said Ha
l was dropping his off.”

  “Then all we need is your brothers’ . . .” Joe lifted his eyes to the knock on the door. “Come in.”

  “Hey, Dad.” Robbie grinned as he peeked his head in then walked inside. “I just wanted to drop this off.” He reached back to shut the door.

  “Hold it.” Hal called out from behind him, then rushed in. “Hey, Robbie. Dad.” He shifted his eyes. “Frank.”

  “Hal.”

  Joe grumbled. “I’m hoping you boys have your statements.”

  Robbie pulled his from his back pocket. It was a replica of what Frank handed him, wrinkled and folded. “Here.”

  Another unhappy grumble came from Joe. “Thanks.”

  “Dad.” Hal handed Joe a folder. “Mine and Elliott’s.”

  “Now, see.” Joe took the folder and opened it. “Not only typed but wrinkle free.”

  Hal smiled.

  Frank shook his head. “You suck, Hal.”

  “Thank you, Frank. Glad to know I keep you happy,” Hal said sarcastically.

  Robbie stepped back toward the door. “I hate to leave, but I have to go. Don’t forget. Six-thirty for Andrea’s service. Ellen’s serving refreshments after.”

  “Did she cook?” Joe asked.

  “Yeah.” Robbie smiled.

  “Swell,” Joe griped. “Remind me to stop at the clinic for some antacid.”

  With a chuckle, Robbie waved and left.

  “Robbie, wait,” Hal said. He looked back with a wave to Joe and Frank and walked out of the office. “I’ll walk with you.”

  “Why? Did I do something?” Robbie asked.

  “No, not at all.” Hal talked as they walked. “I wanted to talk to you about . . . well about the statement.”

  Robbie slowed down. “Are you . . . are you worried, Hal?”

  “A little, Robbie. Are you?”

  “A little.” Robbie nodded.

  “I mean, things were said . . . .”

  “I know.”

  Hal took a breath. “We exchanged thoughts, some brutal thoughts.”

  “Hal.” Robbie stopped him. “I know what you’re getting at.”

  “Do you?” Hal asked. “We’re brothers. I live by that. You’ve only one family. I need you to know, I believe as brothers, we . . . we should go to any lengths to protect one another? Do you get my drift?”

  With a slow wink, Robbie nodded. “You bet. We’re brothers. It’s the only way.”

  Both brothers halted for a second in their walk to give each other a look of confidence they thought the other needed. After that, a little more at ease, they walked on.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  What was it?

  Was it the song or was it Elliott? When Ellen weighed the scales of what caused her to stop upon entrance into the chapel and slip quietly unnoticed into the back pew, the scales tipped to Elliott.

  She sat in the back, watching and listening. Hal mentioned to her that Elliott sang and played piano, but in Ellen’s mind, Hal underplayed it. Never would she have expected Elliott to sound the way he did.

  What song was it? It was one she didn’t recognize, slow and moving, but the words would have been just words had Elliott not added the heart that gave them meaning. They took her away, played at her mind and at her soul. The roses picked from the greenhouse nearly slipped from her grip when her mind, through Elliott’s music, slipped from the chapel.

  Visions.

  Taylor, her sweet face, five years old, her tiny perfect voice that called Ellen ‘Mommy’ with an edge of innocence so tragically lost. Josh, the smells and feel of her ten year old son engulfed her. Even with so many years gone by, how badly Ellen missed them. She always thought of them. Not a day had passed since the plague that they didn’t cross her mind and that she didn’t think how much she loved them. A tear flowed down her cheek and landed almost perfectly across the pedal of one of the long stem roses. Good memories once placed way in the back of her mind, rammed forefront. In that pew, her life of the present encircling her, Ellen wept for the first time in a long time for the life she had lost.

  When did the music stop?

  “Ellen,” Elliott called softly, so close, right next to her.

  Her exhale breathed out the last of her sob and Ellen wiped the tears from her cheek.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Oh, Elliott.” She looked at him. “Oh, my God.”

  “What?”

  “What was that song?”

  “I’m not sure of its name. Robbie asked me to pick something. I thought of that one. I sang it when my own mother passed away.”

  “Oh, my God.” Ellen closed her eyes.

  “You liked the song?”

  “Not as much as I loved the way you sang it. Why didn’t you tell me?” She grabbed the roses, sniffled, and stood up, slipping by him.

  “Tell you what?”

  “That you sang like that.”

  “I thought that you knew I sang.”

  “Yes, but not like that.” Ellen began to place a rose in every pew. “Does Hal know? Wait. Robbie knows right?”

  “He’s never heard me. The Captain should know. He hears me every Sunday in church. Mainly, I sing for God.”

  “Then God is probably pissed that you’re holding out.”

  “What?” Elliott smiled.

  Ellen stopped third pew down. “He gave you a gift, Elliott. If you can move people with your voice, which you can, then it is a gift. You should share that gift.”

  “Thank you for the compliment.”

  “You’re welcome.” She returned to laying down the flowers. “You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if Robbie asks you to join the Starters after he hears you.”

  “That’s kind of funny, considering my whole life I wanted to be a rock star.”

  Ellen froze and turned around. “You’re much too reserved. I can’t see it.”

  “I didn’t use to be. The world and the UWA pretty much has . . .”

  “Neutered you.” Ellen finished his sentence her own way.

  “Well, yes, I suppose that could be a great analogy.” Elliott smiled and followed her. “Ellen. Wait.”

  “Yes?” She faced him.

  “You’re not angry with me anymore?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Not at all.”

  He exhaled. “Good. I thought, since you wouldn’t look at me this afternoon . . .”

  “Elliott.” Ellen stopped him. “I didn’t look at you this afternoon because I was angry, it was because . . . just know it wasn’t because I was angry. O.K.?”

  “O.K. Ellen, before everything starts happening this evening, may I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “You’re in New Bowman tomorrow. Would you . . . would you have dinner with me?”

  Ellen shook her head. “No, I won’t be in New Bowman at dinner time. Hal is coming to Beginnings for questioning and I’m catching a ride.”

  “I see. What about lunch?”

  Another shake of her head. “No, Elliott. I don’t think so.”

  “Am I overstepping boundaries I shouldn’t because of your reunion with Dr. Hayes?”

  “It has nothing to do with Dean, Elliott. It has everything to do with you. I won’t allow myself to be involved with you.”

  Elliott cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I placed you in an awkward position this evening. It was wrong, but will you at least let me thank you. You did not give me a chance to do that.”

  Folding her arms, Ellen slightly bobbed her head. “I guess I should have known this was coming. Go on, give me your sarcastic thank you for leading you on.”

  Elliott shook his head. “No. That wasn’t what I was going to do. I’m very serious about my thank you. I’m not going to be bitter about you breaking it off. That would be wrong. We are all given chances in our lifetime. It is up to each and every one of us to make the most out of them. In the past what was once trivial and opportune, in this world has become vital and priceless. Though I wish I w
ouldn’t have erred, I am grateful for getting the chance that so many others do not.”

  Ellen just stared.

  “I’m going to go practice. Do you mind?”

  “No,” Ellen nearly whispered. “Not at all.” She watched Elliott move to the piano and planned on listening until she not only felt the presence but heard the whisper of Danny Hoi behind her.

  “So, tell me. Do you think the speech thing was planned or was it a spur of the moment, last ditch effort to make you feel guilty.”

  With a gasp, Ellen faced Danny. He grinned.

  The covering was simple, but the entire thing was a surprise. Danny and Robbie did well. Ellen hoped they wouldn’t receive backlash from Joe about using the copy machine. Ellen kind of felt they wouldn’t. After all it was for Andrea.

  She supposed Danny had that supply of peach paper hid in his Danny Hoi House of Publishing. She held the folded document in her hand. A rose, she guessed drawn by Forrest, graced the front just under the simply written name, ‘Andrea’.

  Inside were the years of her birth and death, her favorite Bible passages, a listing of songs that would be sang, and an annotation from Robbie.

  God gives us only one life.

  The length of life is not measured by the years we live it but rather how we live it.

  Should time dictate we’ve spent a hundred years on this earth but lived without reaching out to others then we’ve not lived at all.

  But if we gain time for every life we touch, then in God’s wisdom and eyes, we never perish.

  We live for all eternity.

  It didn’t surprise Ellen that Robbie wrote that. It shouldn’t have surprised anyone. If they only listened to any of the words to the songs he wrote, they would know Robbie went a lot deeper than the childlike prankishness he projected.

  Robbie’s feelings for Andrea surely shone in the way he planned her service, picked out the songs and readings, and wrote a sermon that spoke more as if Andrea were just away rather than passed on. But in essence she was. She would always live on.

  Ellen could see the pride in Joe’s eyes even though he would never speak it. He clenched Ellen’s hand at the finish of a song that Elliott sang and Robbie played. Giving that squeeze said more than words ever could and he was glad that Ellen did what she did.