Reginald Cook - Veil

She watched two Secret Service agents, on loan to her from the White House, speak to Fernando, her head caretaker. The agents finished, and the Guatemalan landscaper made his way to her, all smiles and waves.

“Good afternoon Fernando,” she said, smiling and shaking his hand.

“I’m sorry about the inconvenience. I hope they won’t be in your way.”

“No ma’am, don’t be sorry. I read about the crazy man that’s killing judges and I worry about you. Don’t be sorry.”

“Thank you Fernando. Do you think it’s too early to turn the soil and plant rose bulbs?”

“Not too early for the soil, but we should wait a bit longer for the roses. I checked the ground and it’s plenty soft enough to turn. I brought the big tiller just in case. We’ll turn what we can, put the equipment in the shed, and come back tomorrow if the weather stays nice.”

“Thank you Fernando. I’m going to start on the main flower garden in the back. If you can spare one of your men, can you send him around to assist me?”

“Don’t worry Lady Patrick, I’ll take care of everything. I’ll send someone as soon as we get settled.”

Fernando went back to the truck and Fiona’s heart sank a little.

Despite the momentary lift, being cooped up in the house depressed her.

She sulked over to a patio chair and plopped down, arms folded across her chest. A second later, she burst into laughter. So, that’s where she gets it.

Most of the snow melted away in the afternoon sun, revealing more than a few dead flowers and weeds. Fiona picked up a garden hoe and chopped the withered foliage into pieces. She hummed as she worked.

The music lifted her out of her funk. Then, as quickly as it came, her good mood floated into a dense depressing fog.

She mourned her close friends, Judge Weiss and his wife Emily.

When the FBI informed her they’d been killed, she thought she’d pass out right in front of them.

She forced the agents to describe the murder scene, playing the hard and seasoned magistrate. The grizzly details turned her legs to rubber, like the day John died. Her breathing labored, she felt dizzy and sat down. It wasn’t that she couldn’t deal with the images, she’d seen and heard much worst. Judge Weiss and Emily, however, were her friends, and hearing how they’d been mangled and killed hit her harder than she anticipated.

Fiona wondered what kind of demented monster could do such a thing. As rapidly as the question ran through her mind, the horrifying answer stabbed at her. The kind who could kill a little girl. She stopped working and shut her eyes. Her teeth chattered. Her body trembled.

She shook it off, determined not to give in. A nervous resolve replaced her depression and ghoulish fear. Tomorrow she’d call her good friend and mentor, Barbara. She’ll know what I should do next.

“Mommy come play with me. Push me on the swing,” Jessica bellowed from across the yard.

Fiona gathered herself, wiping the pools from her eyes. “Just a second baby,” she called back, her voice scratchy, weak.

Her focus cleared. A landscaper working on the other side of garden startled her. She didn’t hear him walk over, and hoped he hadn’t seen her tears.

The sandy-brown haired man with a push-broom mustache carefully chopped and cleared the soil like he’d done it since birth. Smiling, he seemed to enjoy the work.

“Excuse me,” said Fiona. “I didn’t hear you walk up. I hope I wasn’t rude.”

“No ma’am, not at all,” the gardener answered, in a thick Australian accent. “I saw you were occupied and didn’t want to disturb ya. I hope that was okay.”

Fiona removed her gloves, walked over, and introduced herself.

“Pleased to meet you mum,” he replied, his mustache rising as he smiled.

“Mommy, you said you’d push me,” interrupted Jessica, creeping up behind, and hugging her mother’s leg.

“I was about to, hun, but I wanted to say hello to this nice man first.

Introduce yourself.”

Jessica marched over like a soldier, gave the man a brisk handshake, barking out name, rank, and serial number.

“My name’s McPhee,” he said. Stephan McPhee, but you can call me Mick.”

“You talk funny,” said Jessica, giggling, her hands playfully covering her mouth.

“Jessica,” said Fiona, embarrassed. “That’s not a nice thing to say.”

“I was only kidding,” answered Jessica, her hands on her hips.

“Not a problem mum,” said Mick, his smile a little wider. “Where I’m from, you’re the ones who talk funny.” All three burst into laughter.

“He’s funny,” said Jessica. “Now can we swing?” The phone, hanging from Fiona’s hip like a sleeping bat, spit out an abrupt chime and Jessica’s face twisted. “I know what that means,” she said, stomping off toward the swing in a huff.

Fiona excused herself. Helen, her assistant at the courthouse, needed a word.

“Why don’t I give you your privacy mum,” said Mick. “I’m not here to entertain, but I will go over and push the little tyke for a moment or two till you finish. That is, if you don’t mind?”

“Oh, how nice of you Mick, that would be very helpful. Thank you.

She and I are going a little stir crazy around here. We’ve been cooped up for almost a week.”

“I read the paper mum,” Mick said, in a solemn, sympathetic tone. “I understand.”

Rejuvenated, Fiona thanked him again and headed for the house. She liked the Aussies, always friendly and full of life. Mick’s infectious smile and friendly manner made her feel a little better, a great temporary fix.

From inside the kitchen, she looked back. Jessica soared back and forth, swinging and laughing like crazy. It delighted Fiona to see Jessica having a little fun, even if short lived.

She plucked an apple from a bowl on the counter, took one last look at her daughter, polished the fruit on her blouse and disappeared into the living room. Maybe we’ll eat at Al Tiramisu. Italian sounds good. Careful not to push too hard, the Australian sent Jessica high into the air.

Stephan McPhee, a common name in Australia, wore several names.

Some called him Andre; others called him “the Bear.” None of it mattered.

“This is a fine house you live in,” said Andre. “You must really like it here.”

“It’s okay,” said Jessica. “It was more fun around here when my daddy was alive.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Andre lied. “You must get lonely.”

“I do. I sit there in my room bored most of the time,” she said, pointing to her bedroom window”

Andre memorized her window. Useful information when he came back to kill them. He stopped the swing, walked in front of her and knelt down on one knee. “Well, I’m sure things will change for you soon,” said Andre. “I feel it in my heart. When you least expect it, good things will happen and your life will change forever.”

“Do you really think so?” asked Jessica, excited.

Andre stared lovingly into her eyes. She was only a child. It didn’t matter. No such thing as an innocent bystander. If you’re home when I come to kill your mother, you’ll die too.

“I know so,” he said, giving her a big hug. “Now go inside and be nice to your mum. She’s going through a lot ya know. She needs your help.”

Jessica hopped off the swing, gave him another hug and took off toward the house. Andre watched her disappear inside, and quietly slipped around back to resume his surveillance, out of the agent’s line of sight.

It took him more than six weeks to sell himself to Fernando. He’d observed the crew clearing snow from Judge Patrick’s estate when he scouted the place three months earlier. The lingering cold weather made the South American immigrant hesitant to add to his crew. A sudden shift in temperature left the groundskeeper a few hands short. The Russian came home from the Weiss’ to a message on his answering machine welcoming him to Salvador Landscaping.