A Taste of Honey

by Tom Benson

  “Good morning Jerome,” Honey said and treated him to a smile before she turned to his boss. “Good morning Mike.”

  “Hello again,” Mike said and dimples formed as he glanced up at the clock. “Punctuality must be one of your many assets.” He half-turned and indicated Studio 1. They went inside, and Mike ushered Honey to the desk and chair on the left, while he opened a tall folding table and set it near the chrome and leather barstool.

  There was a knock on the door, before a pretty young Hispanic woman in the standard female staff uniform entered. She was carrying a small round silver tray with two coffees in white china mugs; one coffee was black.

  “Black, one sugar?” the teenager said and gazed openly at Honey’s face as she placed the mug on the desk. She placed the other drink on the folding table near where Mike stood.

  Honey said: “Thank you very much,” and glanced at the badge on the girl’s white blouse. “Santana,’ she said, “what a beautiful name.”

  “Thank you, Miss,” the girl beamed, nodded to Mike and then closed the door quietly as she backed out with an empty tray.

  Honey said: “Are all of your staff as presentable and courteous as the few I’ve met?”

  “Yes, and thank you,” he said and gave a slight bow. “They all have several other things in common.” He allowed himself a grin and saw Honey’s right eyebrow raise a little.

  Mike stepped forward and slipped the catch on the door. He went to a large steel cabinet, tapped a sequence of keys on the pad and opened the door. After removing a green A4 cardboard wallet, he closed the cabinet door and pressed a single digit on the pad.

  The wallet was in Mike’s right hand. He lifted his coffee with his left hand and settled himself on a barstool. As he sipped his coffee, he looked at Honey with the same intense stare as the day before. He found her mesmerizing and made no effort to hide it.

  He said: “You’ve been one of my more comprehensive and special cases. If you don’t mind, before you leave, I’d like to know that you are who you say you are.”

  Honey lifted her coffee and took a sip as she looked at Mike and considered his statement. “Go on,” she said as she held the coffee mug in both hands.

  Mike reached over and placed his mug on the folding table to his left and then took the cardboard wallet in his left hand before he opened it. He slipped a sheet of paper from within the wallet. It was Honey’s completed questionnaire.

  He had looked into her eyes before he spoke. “What is your full name?”

  “Honey Woods.”

  “What is your date of birth?”

  “May 7th, 1976,” she responded without a moment’s hesitation.

  Mike smiled. “Where were you born?”

  “Aspen, Colorado.”

  “Tell me about your parents and a brief history of your family and upbringing?”

  “My parents were Jack and Stephanie Woods. They were both chemists who met at university. They died in a boating accident when I was a toddler. I lived with an aunt until I left Colorado. That aunt has since passed away, so I have no known living relatives.”

  “Tell me about your further education?”

  “I attended Columbia University of New York and studied geography and geology.”

  “Why do you need a Firearms License?”

  “My aunt taught me to shoot when I was a teenager, and I’ve continued to enjoy it as a regular pastime.”

  “Do you ever shoot wild animals?”

  “Only with a good camera and zoom lens,” she said and noticed his smile.

  “Would you consider lunch with me before you leave town?”

  Honey hesitated for the first time, and they searched each other’s eyes.

  “Yes,” she said, “I’d consider it.”

  “Thank you,”

  “What for?”

  “Giving me hope,” Mike said and got up to stand beside the desk. He looked at her and then named the documents unnecessarily as he removed them from the wallet and placed them on the desk in a neat formation.

  “Here you have; Birth Certificate, Passport, Passport Card, Driver’s License, and Social Security card.” He started a fresh line. “Here are your National Rifle Association (NRA) card. Firearms License, Columbia University Alumni membership card, American Express and four popular store cards.” He stepped back, still holding the questionnaire, and sat on his stool. He gazed down at his preferred lunch date.

  Honey glanced at Mike and then spun around the arm of the illuminated magnifying glass that was attached to the desk. She switched on the light and lifted each document to inspect them for flaws and standard of finish. It took her ten minutes of concentration, and when satisfied she switched off the glass and spun it back to its storage position.

  She said: “There’s something you should know about me that will continue with my identity transition.

  Mike held his coffee mug halfway to his lips and squinted at her. “Go on,”

  “It’s very difficult to impress me,” and she gave a brief smile. “You’re the second person to do so in the last 24 hours.”

  Mike said: “Thank you,” and then he turned on the stool and fed the completed questionnaire to his document shredder. “And you’ve let me see another side to you.”

  “How so?” she asked.

  “Only somebody with a considerable knowledge of official documentation would know what to look for in a fake,” he paused, “Honey Woods.”

  Honey nodded and gave him a smile. Another time, another place, she thought.

  *

  1 Police Plaza

  Lower Manhattan, New York

  Captain ‘Big John’ Kelly continued to use his right thumb and forefinger to rub his eyes as he replaced his telephone handset on the cradle with his left hand.

  “Jesus Christ!” he said aloud in his otherwise empty office. He had taken a few long, deep breaths before he pressed his intercom. “Sherlock ... step in here, please.”

  “Yes sir,” Cindy Holmes said in her clipped southern English accent. She was standing in the boss’s doorway less than 30 seconds after he called. Kelly was the only person allowed to use Cindy’s nickname. He’d given it to her, and it was the closest he came to a demonstration of affection.

  Kelly said: “You know we have a handful of detectives who don’t officially exist?”

  “The ones you call your invisible badges sir?”

  “Yes,” he said and tried to force a smile. “I’d like you to find Detective Investigator (DI) Maria Delano for me, please. Find her and ask her to come and see me today. I’ll wait if necessary, but I’d prefer sooner rather than later.”

  “Would you like a coffee sir?” Cindy knew when a strong non-alcoholic drink might help her boss. He was eligible, mature and in good shape. The only downside was Kelly’s attachment; to his job.

  “Thanks, Sherlock.” He watched the brunette as she turned to leave his office. At 49, Cindy was only a year younger than her boss. She had been living in New York for ten years and still sounded as English as the day she arrived.

  Cindy was wearing a cream blouse, complimented by a short dark green skirt and two-tone black and brown stilettos. The figure concealed beneath the outfit was now more curvaceous than athletic but was as full of promise as her lovely face. Captain Kelly didn’t know it, but if he only asked, that body would be at his disposal.

  Two minutes later, Big John was burning his throat with hot black coffee and trying to work out what to say to one of his best officers. Cindy in the meantime had already traced the detective and asked her to report to the department in person.

  *

  It was half an hour after Kelly’s request that there was a sharp knock on his open door. He looked up, removed his reading glasses with his right hand and waved the young woman to join him. She was wearing her dark hair centre-parted, draped down her back and over her shoulders. It didn’t quite cover her huge gold, hoop ear-rings.

  Maria was dressed in denim jacket, mini-skirt, T-shirt,
red stilettos and lots of gold jewelry. Whilst inside the Police HQ she kept her badge clipped onto the waistband of her skirt. Outside Kelly’s office, very few people knew the full remit of her role. She often looked like a hooker.

  “Please close the door DI Delano,” Kelly said. “Take a seat.” He glanced at the pretty Italian American officer and couldn’t hold back a smile. He admired the way she could dress and act to fit virtually any scenario. He’d seen her power-dressed in a pant-suit, and attending a gala in evening wear, but she just seemed to look so natural in denim and heels.

  Maria Delano closed the door behind her and sat facing her boss, knees together. She parted her ruby coated lips and removed the gum from her mouth. The gum was placed in a tissue before the officer met her superior’s gaze.

  Captain Kelly said: “You share an apartment with DI Forest don’t you?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “When did you last see her?”

  “She headed out early Saturday morning, but I’m sure she’ll be back on shift by now sir-,”

  Kelly held up his right hand, the palm facing the detective. He took a deep breath and lifted a sheet of paper, on which he’d been writing notes.

  He said: “I know you two are partners, but how close are you? Are you just roommates, or maybe friends?”

  “We’re more like sisters sir,” she paused. “You insult or threaten one of us; the other one takes it personally.”

  The man looked at his notes, which had just been confirmed by what Maria had said. Like many senior police officers, he could handle death and mayhem, but his officers were close to his heart. For him, the only closer bond was to his ex-buddies in the Marine Corps.

  He said: “Maria,” and then paused to look at the report on his desk.

  “Yes,” Maria said, leaning forward, her hands clasped together on her knees. “I’m sorry sir, but I’m beginning to get a real bad feeling about this conversation. What’s going on?”

  “Kimberley Forest’s family home was burned to the ground on Saturday evening.”

  “Oh my God,” Maria gasped and covered her mouth with both hands for a moment. “When she left, she said there was a problem at home, but it doesn’t mean she-,”

  Captain Kelly closed his eyes and inhaled before issuing what sounded like an official statement.

  “The forensic guys have basic facilities at the Greensburg station house. They haven’t finished their investigation yet, but they’ve discovered a detective’s badge, Kimberley’s wristwatch, and a cell that might belong to her.”

  Tears flowed freely from Maria’s eyes as she stared at the senior officer.

  She said: “It might be a similar wristwatch-,”

  “It’s engraved,” Kelly said. “It was a gift from the guys at the Sniper School.”

  “Sir, why did you say, ‘burned to the ground’ when you mentioned the fire?”

  “The guys in the Greensburg precinct don’t think it was an accident. When the fire tenders reached the end of the street, some thoughtful son-of-a-bitch had parked a stolen delivery truck across the intersection.”

  “To buy precious minutes-,”

  “That’s what it looks like, so the perpetrator managed to increase the ferocity of the fire.” He looked down at his notes again before facing Maria. “Every window and door in the house was also open.”

  “That sure doesn’t sound like an accident sir.”

  “I want you to do something for me that I expect will be very difficult for you.”

  Maria nodded in silence as tears continued to flow down her cheeks.

  Kelly said: “I want you to hand over the case you’re working on.” He had watched her nod before he continued. “I want you to take a couple of days off, but do not ... I repeat, do not even consider going to Pinewood or Greensburg. If you do that, I’ll fry your ass myself. Understood?”

  “Understood sir, but me and Kimberley-,”

  “Maria, I understand,” he said and stood up to walk around the desk to her. “Please believe me, if somebody has harmed that girl they will have me to deal with.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Maria said and stood up to leave.

  “Get out of here,” he said. “Don’t speak to anyone about this and I promise I’ll contact you personally when I’ve got an update.” He held her briefly by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Home Maria, okay?”

  “Okay sir,” she said, “and thanks.” She wiped her eyes with a fresh tissue before leaving the office. She strode purposefully along the long corridor, her heels clicking on the polished wooden floor. The officer stepped into the corridor and stood near the doorway to his personal assistant’s office.

  “Sherlock,” he said over his shoulder but continued to look along the corridor.

  “Yes sir,” Cindy said quietly, smiling as she stepped forward to stand beside her boss outside the office. She followed his gaze as he spoke.

  “I’d like you to bring me everything you can find on DI Kimberley Forest,” he said. He continued to watch the departing officer walk along the corridor. “I’d also like all you can find on DI Maria Delano”

  “I’m on it sir.” Administration and secret information weren’t a job to Cindy Holmes; it was a science. Her uncanny ability, combined with her accent and surname had caused Captain Kelly to give her the nickname, Sherlock. She’d been Kelly’s PA for six years.

  *

  Indianapolis, Indiana

  As Honey strolled along the sidewalk towards the chosen restaurant, she saw Mike crossing at the intersection about 50 yards away. She checked her watch, 12 noon.

  “Wow,” Mike said as he approached. “You turned up. Thank you.”

  “When I say I’m going to do something Mike; it gets done.”

  Mike pushed the glass door and stepped back to allow his lunch date to enter first. He looked her up and down and noticed that she had changed her outfit, if only slightly. She still wore jeans, but with high-heeled, black shoes. The denim jacket and plain blouse were replaced by a more feminine looking blouse with lace detailing, and she was carrying her black jacket. Slung over her left shoulder was a large leather satchel, embroidered with a floral pattern.

  As requested by Mike when he made the booking, they were shown to an intimate booth away from the doors and central dining area. They accepted menus, and both asked for chilled fruit juice.

  Mike said: “If you don’t mind me saying so, I didn’t think you could improve your appearance, but you’ve managed it with seemingly little effort.”

  “It’s just as well I’m leaving town after this meal, or with your steady flow of compliments we’d be looking for a hotel room.” She glanced at her companion, flicked open her menu and gazed at it, knowing Mike’s eyes were on her. “I am hungry.” She was working hard at acting and sounding more human than she felt.

  Mike’s eyes widened, and he tried to imagine being alone in a hotel room with this woman. “Please give me some notice if you come back this way - and eat before you get here.”

  They exchanged a look over the top of the menus, and when their eyes met, they both smiled at the mutual flirting, although Honey had a sneaking feeling that Mike was serious.

  As they enjoyed the meal, it dawned on the pair that there wasn’t much they could say about themselves in their strange circumstances. Mike was happy to be having lunch with such an attractive companion, whatever her background. He only knew her as Honey Woods.

  She said: “Did you bring me a copy of that photo?”

  “Yes,” Mike said and reached into his coat pocket. “Why did it catch your eye?” he asked as he handed it over.

  “On your display inside Studio 1, you have a wide assortment of photographs using a variety of subjects, poses, and finishes.” She held the photo up to look at it closely and then looked into Mike’s eyes. “This is presented as a miniature Wanted - Dead or Alive, poster.”

  “I know it looks like dark humor, but there is a serious aspect to it. Apart from the typography, the
re must be something that made it stand out.”

  Honey said: “A man who isn’t wearing a hat or an old Wild West mustache. It looks like a modern photograph adapted into the poster, almost as if it was a serious offer.”

  “So where are the other Charlie’s Angels while you’re here with me?” Mike said, inclining his head and raising his eyebrows.

  She glanced at him over the photo; only her lips smiling. “The eyes are cold, cruel even. I’ve seen a similar look before.” She lowered the mini-poster and looked at Mike. “What’s the story behind the photo and the offer?”

  “I knew you were different the moment I met you,” Mike said and his eyes clouded. “That man had a daughter and son, and he abused them both when they were only small.” He looked out of the window at the traffic for a moment and then he turned to face Honey.

  She met his gaze and nodded but remained silent, observing him.

  Mike said: “His wife discovered what he had done and confronted him, so he killed her and abandoned the two children in the house with their mother. It was two days before anybody discovered the children and their mother’s body. The children were starving and traumatized.”

  “You have this on your wall, so I take it you know the man or the children?”

  “I’m waiting for the right client to take an interest.” Mike said and looked deep into her eyes. “That man’s daughter was Kathy, the hairdresser that you met yesterday. Of course, Kathy wasn’t her original name, and it’s taken years for her to become the person she is today.”

  “She’s a lovely girl, and you’re obviously very fond of her,” Honey said. “I’ve got a feeling you’d be keen to see this guy being brought to justice?”

  “He’s a monster, and I hate him Honey.” Mike continued almost in a whisper, his eyes beginning to mist over, “If I confronted him with a gun in my hand, I don’t know if I could hold back from squeezing the trigger.”

  “That’s a bad position to imagine,” she said, “but I can see that there’s a lot of anger there. How did you get to know Kathy, and begin to care so much about the case?”