M. Forsythe - While Rome Was Sleeping

“It’s 8:30,” she smiled, “Besides; I figured I’d return the favor of an early morning visit although you do have me beat by an hour. So where do we begin?”

“How did you find out about…?” Then he added “Oh, yeah, Savalza probably told you, huh?”

“As matter of fact he told me how to find you, but the two plain-clothes-men who were out in front of my house last night told me about it. Why didn’t you call and tell me?” Looking around her eyes fell on the disabled telephones resting on a table. “I can see why,” she said answering her own question.

“Who do you think could have done this, Andy?”

Andrew shrugged. “Beats me! I do know who it wasn’t. You probably aren’t aware of it yet, but the two guys who trashed the Center were killed in a fall on Friday.

“They were window washers when they weren’t following their first career, breaking and entering. It seems that a cable on the scaffolding gave out and they fell thirty stories.”

Her hand covered her mouth in shock as she gasped, “Oh!”

“Yes, and it’s too bad that the police didn’t get them before it happened—we might have learned some very interesting things.”

Charlene looked around and said firmly, “Well I came here to help and so point me in some direction, professor. Where shall I start?”

He grinned appreciatively. “Let’s find the kitchen, and at least I’ll be able to offer you a cup of coffee.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” she laughed as she removed a tall container from a tote bag. “Here you are, coffee and a Danish. After all, you need to keep up your strength.”

“You are a woman of many surprises,” he said as he gratefully took the items from her hand. “What else do you have in that wonder bag? Does there happen to be a magic vacuum cleaner that will suck up all this mess?”

“No, but I offer these two hands and I’ll bet it won’t take that long, soooo… drink your coffee and then let’s get started.”

“Aye, aye, Commander,” Andrew hungrily bit into the Danish, swallowing coffee with it. He watched her gather up loose papers that had been thrown off his desk. She casually laid them on a clear spot on the desk top.

She picked up a framed picture showing Andrew and a pretty blonde leaning against him. “Hmmn,” she mused, “Someone special?” she asked candidly.

“Yeah, actually it’s my sister.”

“Sister? She’s pretty. And affectionate, too.”

“Mm hmn, I guess so,” he remarked, savoring the last of the pastry and coffee. “Thanks very much.” Touching her arm he said, “That was great!”

“You’re welcome, very much.”

A call from Hal Baker was waiting for Ed Peterson when he returned from his meeting with the Captain and Jim Savalza.

Ed picked up the phone answering with a brusque “Peterson.”

“Hello, Ed, this is Hal Baker, I’m looking for Monte Maxwell,”

“So is everybody else,” Ed replied dryly. “Is there something I can do to help?”

“Well, Monte was asking me about Jake Schultz a week or ten days ago. I told him that Jake was staying out of trouble and reporting in as he was supposed to. When I asked why the interest, he said he had busted Jake and he was just curious. I told him where Jake was living and working and that seemed to satisfy him. But Jake was supposed to check in with me on Friday and he didn’t. When I called Atlas, they said there had been an accident. They told me Monte was handling the investigation, so I want to talk with him.”

“Monte hasn’t come in yet today, Hal, but you can speak with Jim Savalza. He knows a little about the accident. He might be more helpful than I.”

“Fine—I’ll do that, Ed. Thanks and when Monte gets in, have him give me a call.”

“Sure will.” Ed hung up, located Jim and told him about Baker’s call. “He told me Monte had contacted him over a week ago checking on Jake Schultz.”

“He did, huh? That’s very interesting… did he say why Monte wanted to know about Schultz?”

Ed shook his head, “No, I don’t think he knows for sure. But I told him to talk with you about Schultz and Tanner’s accident. He’ll probably be calling you.”

“Thanks, Ed, I’ll call Baker now; any word from Monte yet?”

“Nope, not a word. I have a hunch Dora will be calling again, soon; what do we do about her?”

“Play it by ear…, we can’t tell her what we don’t know.”

The search for Monte had begun in earnest; by mid afternoon the crime lab had confirmed that the knife belonging to Jake Schultz was the weapon used in the stabbing of George Kelshaw. The lab also reported the results of dusting Andrew Kincaid’s apartment for useful fingerprints. They complained that the only clear prints, other than Kincaid’s, were two good impressions of Detective Maxwell’s on the desk and in the bathroom, commenting that it was sloppy of Maxwell to handle an investigation without gloves.

Jim grabbed Ed and headed for the Captain’s office. “There’s a new development, you should know about Captain.”

“Oh, what’s that?”

“They found Maxwell’s prints in Kincaid’s apartment; the lab assumed that Monte was just sloppy during the investigation. I didn’t tell them Monte didn’t handle the investigation of the break in—I did.”

“Okay, Jim, let’s have Monte picked up. I’ll call Internal Affairs.”

“Captain, could you let Ed and me look into it before you call IA?”

“I’ll try Jim, but I can’t keep this under wraps too long.”

“I know Captain, and thanks. Well, Ed that takes care of what we tell Dora; let’s go see her, maybe she can tell us something.”

“Maybe we should get a search warrant,” Ed suggested.

“Yeah, good idea,” Jim agreed. While you work on that I’ll drop by Kincaid’s place and fill him in on what we’ve found.

They worked comfortably together putting things back in place. By mid afternoon, except for the things that had been broken, the apartment was nearly put back in order. Andrew was working at his desk, sorting papers and replacing items thrown out of the drawers while Charlene had given a final touch-up on table and counter tops.

Looking at his watch, Andrew said, “Hey, lady, do you realize we’ve been at this for nearly five and a half hours, aren’t you hungry?”

She had curled up in the corner of the sofa, shoes off, eyes closed. “Mmm hmn,” she sighed. “I hadn’t really thought about food; what do you have in mind?” She yawned and stretched.

“Well, we could order in a pizza, or, if that’s a little heavy, we could go out and see what there is that might appeal to us. How about the Pike Street Market? And there’s a deli just about a block away. What’s your pleasure?”

“I think I’ll pass on the pizza and the Market, but the deli sounds good.” She began to uncurl, slipping her feet into her shoes.

“I feel like a slave driver—” He smiled as he sat down next to her. “After all this work and I haven’t even fed you.” His arm went around her. Turning her toward him, he whispered, “I’m really sorry, but not for this,” as he kissed her.

At first she kissed him back eagerly, hungrily and then pulled away. Taking a deep breath she said shakily, “Andrew, Andy… this isn’t… we shouldn’t.”

“Why? Don’t pull away; I wanted to do that yesterday. You must have known, didn’t you? On top of all this mess and in spite of what’s happened, all I could think about was wanting you—wondering how you’d feel in my arms.”

Her fingers were on his lips stopping the words. “Shh, please don’t say anymore, I can’t—we mustn’t… ”

“Stop talking,” He pulled her close and kissed her again, this time there was no resistance as she responded fully to his lips.