Author's notes:
Thank you to two great writers and friends, make-mine-a-kiaora and Sue Shay, for their beta-reads and the opportunity to work with and learn from them. Be sure to check out their stories - I have favorited both authors in my profile for easy access.
Teresa Lisbon and Patrick Jane versus an unidentified flying object? The object doesn't stand a chance. In the meantime, what exactly is going on with Kimball Cho?
"Cheerful Little Earful" is a sequel to "Clear Blue Morning" - an alternate universe where Patrick Jane never went to South America after killing Red John. Instead, he followed Teresa Lisbon to her new home in Cannon River, Washington. In "Clear Blue Morning," Police Chief Teresa Lisbon met mysterious college professor Archie Marbray (wink, wink!) and hired him as her consultant (wink, wink again!). By the end of "Clear Blue Morning," Marbray confirmed his true identity to Lisbon, foiled a murder plot against her, and married her. In the story "Baby Blue Skies," Lisbon and Jane had a baby.
The character Henry, a Cannon River police officer, appeared in episodes 6x09, "My Blue Heaven," and 6x10, "Green Thumb." I've taken the liberty of creating a last name for him, "Karson."
While none of the new FBI characters from the TV show appear in "Cheerful Little Earful," some dialogue echoes from the post-Red John episodes do pop up.
I do not own the TV show The Mentalist and get no compensation from it. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes only.
Chapter 1 - Prologue: "All Shook Up"
"I'm gonna kill you, Cho. Die, you son-of-a-bitch, die."
Every now and then, Kimball Cho thought about the end of his life.
How would he die? When would he die?
Those two questions first surfaced during his time in the army. They came up again when he was at the California Bureau of Investigation. As things got dicey at CBI, he often thought that he would end up as one more of Red John's victims, a butchered corpse lying under a smiley face. But by some miracle he survived, as did Wayne Rigsby, Grace Van Pelt, Teresa Lisbon, and Patrick Jane.
Tonight Kimball Cho had the answer to his two questions. How would he die? He would die in a wheat field, vaporized into a cloud of flesh, blood, and bone fragments. When would he die? Judging by how fast Rex Skeete charged toward him, he'd be dead within ten seconds.
As he advanced, Skeete leveled his anti-tank weapon at Cho. His own gun now empty, Cho dropped it to the ground. He raised himself to his full height.
"I'll die, but I'm not a son-of-a-bitch like you, Skeete."
Kimball Cho would face his death like a man. As the madman tugged on the trigger, Cho smiled. Defiance welled inside him.
Cho added a new question to his list as he waited: Why would he die? The answer to that one filled him with pride. He and his task force had thwarted disaster. Half of Kansas and a good bit of Nebraska would not turn into radioactive wasteland tonight.
"At least I get the pleasure of seeing you dead, Cho."
It was obvious to Cho: Skeete's plans now ruined, he sought revenge. Killing a lone FBI agent bereft of support was all the man could muster though. Only a handful of people would know what Cho did and why he died, but at least those people would know.
Skeete closed on Cho enough that he could see the wild-eyed glare in the cult leader's eyes. Any ounce of rational thought had boiled away. Had Skeete ever had any? It didn't matter now. Cho's team of agents in town had seized his bomb before he could use it.
All that was left for the crazed man was pure hate. In his eyes, Cho saw a thirst to make someone, anyone pay. And that someone was FBI Agent Kimball Cho.
Why didn't Skeete go ahead and fire? Even if he didn't score a direct hit, the blast would still kill Cho. The answer was clear: Skeete wanted Cho to suffer, and he wanted to see that suffering first hand.
A movement distracted Cho from his thoughts. Behind Skeete something long and metallic flashed as it fell from the heavens. Then the object leveled to head straight for the man's back.
Skeete never knew what hit him. The object speared him like a litter stick stabs a piece of trash on the sidewalk. A ripping noise made Cho shudder. As Skeete fell lifeless, the nose of the object thrust out through his chest. A split-second later the rear section of the object clattered to the ground and broke off.
His heart pounding in his chest, Cho stared in disbelief. Was he still alive, or was he dreaming? In a frenzy of motion, he clutched at his body. By some miracle he stood in one piece, alive and breathing.
The thump-thump-thump of boots tromping across the ground got his attention. Looking up, Cho saw a lone figure clad head-to-toe in camouflage emerge from the brush at the edge of the field. He recognized a pair of blue eyes and the wisp of blond hair sticking out from under her cap. In one hand she held a control box and in the other a pistol. Stopping beside Skeete's body, she looked down and then snorted.
"The only way this could have been more perfect would have been if that bastard had looked over his shoulder right before this baby hit him." The back end of the object clanged when she kicked it with her steel-toed boot. "You know, so he could see what was gonna happen to him." Casting aside the control box, she walked over to Cho and with a light touch rubbed her hand under his chin. "Are you okay, Rascal?"
"Never better, Nymph," he replied. Then he smirked. "You just couldn't stay away from me, could you?"
"Aren't you glad I couldn't? When I saw you heading out from the warehouse, I thought 'That guy needs adult supervision.' Just call me your Guardian Nymph."
Nymph started another one of her wisecracks that always made him smile, but a rustling to his left prompted Cho to look away. Charging out from the brush just as his boss had done moments before came Skeete's minion Weldon Thebeau. What was he doing here? Wasn't he supposed to be at Skeete's warehouse with the others?
A man known for a weak mind but a sure shot, Thebeau blazed away with his sidearm and sported the same wild-eyed glare his boss had.
In an instant, Cho did three things he had trained for. Too bad he hadn't trained to do all of them at the same time. First, he hurled himself and Nymph to the ground. Second, he grabbed her pistol from her hand. Third, as he tumbled downward Cho squeezed off three shots at Thebeau.
Cho's actions proved less-than-perfect. His first shot kicked up a clod of dirt. The second clipped Thebeau's shirt sleeve. But the third shot hit the man square in his mid-section. The impact of the bullet halted Thebeau. Dropping his weapon, he looked down at his stomach. A growing circle of blood stained his shirt. He tottered. Then with a rasp, Thebeau collapsed in a lifeless heap.
I guess being one-third perfect was good enough this time.
"Are you hit?" he asked Nymph without looking at her.
"I wasn't hit by a henchman's slug, only by a federal lug."
"Huh?" Cho turned his head to look down. His torso lay atop hers, and the lower portion of his body rested between her open legs. He glanced at her face, just millimeters from his own, to find her sporting a devilish grin.
"Gettin' kind of randy, aren't you, Kimball?" Her throaty laugh sounded like music to his ears.
Despite the swirl of action in the last five minutes, he did feel, well, excited. He returned a smile. Beyond them he heard a low-humming siren and the crackle of tires on gravel.
"You're the one with the naughty thoughts, Nymph."
"So you're saying it's me, not you, Rascal? Ha! I don't believe that." She glanced down at their bodies and back up at him. "Isn't this just like a man? Trying to get in a gal's pants and not even buying her a good meal first."
The two lay still for a moment gazing in each other's eyes. Nymph wet her lips, and he felt drawn to them like a magnet. Ever so slightly he began to lower his face to meet hers.
"Ut-uhm." The voice above startled Cho. He looked up to see Stan, his second-in-command, standing over them. "Hate to interrupt your party in the moonlight, but we've got to vanish pronto. You two kids break it up."
"The cleaners coming in?" asked Cho as he rolled off Nymph.
Stan twisted his head around to survey the carnage. In the distance, more sirens wailed.
"Yeah, and they've got quite a job to do judging by your handiwork." He extended both his hands to help the pair to their feet.
"How about the teams, Stan?"
Stan nodded over to a pair of vehicles in the clearing.
"Team Rascal is all-present-and-accounted-for. They're waiting for us in the red SUV. Team Nymph is in the green SUV, all-present-and-accounted-for too."
For a moment Cho stood dumbfounded. He survived. His team all survived. And all of Nymph's team had as well. From the corner of his eye, he saw Stan focus on the debris scattered around Skeete's body. He pointed to it as he addressed Nymph.
"How in the hell will you explain that to your boss?"
The throaty laugh cut through the night air again.
"That's what expense accounts are for," she said.
A horn tooting made all three look over to the dust-covered SUVs. The driver's window on the red one rolled down and Gloria stuck her head out.
"We gotta move out now. Right now!"
The three of them jogged over to the vehicles. Doors slid open on the sides, and the agents inside yelled for them to come in. Stan hopped aboard the red SUV first. Before he himself got on, Cho looked around to see his Guardian Nymph climb into the green SUV.
As the door of her SUV slid closed, they made eye contact one last time. She waved goodbye and rode out of his life.
To be continued.
Author's notes:
Harry Warren, Ira Gershwin, and Billy Rose wrote "Cheerful Little Earful" in 1930. While Ira Gershwin gained his greatest fame as a lyricist for his brother George, he also wrote lyrics with other composers. Ella Fitzgerald recorded my favorite version of "Cheerful Little Earful" for her album, Get Happy!
Otis Blackwell and Elvis Presley wrote "All Shook Up" in 1956, and Presley's recording of it is available on a number of albums including Elvis: 30 #1 Hits.