M. Forsythe - While Rome Was Sleeping

The door buzzed, Andrew whispered hoarsely, “We won’t answer it.”

“Andy, you’ve got to answer it.” Charlene was trying to regain her composure, her face was flushed and her hair was slightly mussed. She casually picked up a magazine and began thumbing through it while Andrew stood up and got a glass of water on his way to the door. Before opening it he turned back to her, “This isn’t over.”

“Hi, I just thought I’d stop by and see how you were doing.” Jim Savalza’s eyes fell on Charlene seated on the sofa. “It looks like everything is almost back to normal. Good to see you, Ms. Thayer, Charlene. Hope I didn’t come at a bad time,” he said awkwardly.

Andrew just shook his head and rolled his eyes as he guided Jim to a chair, not saying anything.

Jim went on. “I have some news that you might find interesting. I didn’t really expect to find any prints other than yours that we could identify when we dusted this place, but we got lucky. We got a good set from your desk and from the bathroom.

“Here’s the situation, the prints happened to belong to our friend Detective Monte Maxwell. I believe he broke in here and tossed your apartment. Now all we have to do is find out why, but he’s disappeared. We think he has skipped, so there’s an APB to pick him up.”

“Why, would Maxwell be even slightly interested in my place?” Andrew asked incredulously. “Unless…, but that’s crazy…” he didn’t finish the thought, unless he was looking for the packet.

“I asked myself all the same questions, Andy, and I have some partial answers; for example, I found out that Monte was somehow connected to Schultz and Tanner. It turns out the knife used to do Kelshaw belonged to none other than Jake Schultz. It turned up with their personal effects in the Property Room. I had a call from Property regarding some missing items, specifically a large amount of money that was on one of them in a money belt. It went missing about the same time as Monte.

“That’s as far as I got with the puzzle. Strange as it seems, everything is pointing to Monte. He is somehow connected to Kelshaw’s murder and I would also venture a guess that he had something to do with the accident at the Rainier Tower. I just can’t prove it…, yet.”

Charlene was on the edge of the sofa leaning toward Savalza. “Why of all people would a police detective do any of the things you just described, Jim?”

“As much as I hate to say it, Charlene, there are some dirty cops, the motive is usually money. Monte has been skating on thin ice with the Department for awhile. He wouldn’t do this on his own. He had to be taking orders from somebody else. Personally, I think Monte got into a situation that was way over his head and now he’s on the run.”

Andrew was pacing now. “But who hired him? Jim, we’ve got to get our hands on Maxwell and find out who he’s working for.

“I had better talk with Evan Scott, before he leaves town. In fact he wants to meet and talk with Charlene.” He looked at Charlene and as she returned his gaze she nodded agreement. Suddenly Andrew hit his forehead with the palm of his hand, exclaiming, “Holy…! I completely forgot; he wanted to get together for dinner tonight with you Charlene, and Ben and me. I was supposed to set it up. I’d better call the WAC and see about a reservation, that is if you can do this, Charlene.”

“Yes, I can.”

“Good idea, if you want to talk with him,” Jim commented. “Scott came in to see us today and asked for Kelshaw’s body to be released for burial. He talked with the Captain and me to make sure everyone was on the same page as far as the investigation goes. He said that he plans to leave tomorrow if we can work out the release. He’s a good guy in spite of the fact he’s a Fed. He wanted to make sure I was covered as far as knowing about Kelshaw’s CIA connection. Personally, I like him and I think you’ll like him too, Charlene. I’d bet on it.”

“I’ll wait and see why he wants to meet me. I know he has some questions for me and—I may have some for him,” she said with some skepticism.

“Looks like we each have some work to do,” Jim said as he rose to leave. “I’m glad to see you–both,” he added smiling. “Right now Peterson and I are going to pay Mrs. Maxwell a call and check out Schultz and Tanner’s habitation. Then I’ll be in touch.”

The door closed behind Savalza; Charlene was on her feet gathering her tote and jacket. “If we’re going to meet this Evan Scott I should be going.” Glancing at herself in the small wall mirror she said, “I have a little repair work to do.”

Andrew was behind her now his arms around her waist, kissing her neck. “You look fine to me—how soon we forget; didn’t I tell you this isn’t over?”

“Andy, stop it… I can’t think when you’re—doing what you’re doing.” She slipped down through his arms and stood by the door. “I really must go. This is all happening too fast. I… I’m not ready.”

With hands outstretched he turned toward her saying, “For goodness sakes! When will that day come, Charlene? Not ready? You’ve had nine almost ten years. I’ll bet you have held every possibility of love at bay until you got ready ! But I know when you were kissing me back on that couch,” he gestured to the sofa, “ You were so don’t hand me any more stuff about not being ready!

“Do you want to know what I think? I think you are just plain scared! Maybe we haven’t had months or even weeks to get what you might consider, properly acquainted, but face it; we’ve been dropped into a level of intensity that most people don’t experience in years of knowing each other.

“So if you’re waiting for some magic bolt of lightening to—” he paused, “Never mind!” He stopped, shaking his head and not finishing the thought, he said, “Let it go. Just go and I’ll pick you up at 6:30 for dinner. It’s set with Scott and Father Ben.”

As the door closed behind her, he swore, in frustration and anger, “Damn, damn, damnation,” he threw the magazine she had laid on the desk across the room. He hadn’t seen the tears.

She was angry at herself for crying. She ran down the stairs to her car. She needed to go home, to be in her own surroundings—she could think there.

He was right; she was scared; afraid of feelings that had been ghosts in her closet of memories of Paul. She was safe with them; the only demand they made was the heartache of missing him and that had faded—until now. Now there was Andrew with real flesh and blood demands. She touched her lips remembering his mouth on hers. Yes, there were real demands.

Monday, 6:30 PM

She chose a subdued navy blue dress for the dinner meeting with Evan Scott, Father Ben and Andrew. She didn’t know what to expect or what his expectation of her might be. She had been told that he was someone who had been connected to George Kelshaw, but it was not clear exactly how. At Andrew’s request, she tucked Paul’s letter into her bag, gave her hair an extra brush, checked her lipstick and sighed, “Ready or not, this will have to do.”

Andrew was at the door promptly at 6:30. He waited briefly before she opened it. “Just a minute while I get my coat,” she said brightly, almost too brightly he thought.

“How are you?” he asked solicitously. “I… I want to say, I’m sorry for going off on you like that, Charlene. I had no right to do that. I don’t know what else to say.”

“Nothing,” she said gently. “Don’t apologize any more. You were right, but this is not the time to discuss it. Let’s just let it go for now, all right?”