The Secret Marriage
Chapter 1
Bobby read the victim's name in the initial report, and ever since had been exceedingly quiet. Alex drove the car, but she couldn't help looking over at him when she got the chance. He looked as if he was a million miles away.
"Bobby?" she finally asked.
He blinked out of his trance and turned to her. "Hmm?"
"You wanna share your thoughts?" Alex asked, thinking he already had a theory about the case.
"Uh… uh, no."
This was not the answer she expected. Her eyebrows knotted up. "Are you all right?"
"Uh, I… I don't know yet." His eyes glazed over again as he stared at a mysterious spot on the dashboard in front of him.
He remained quiet, so Eames felt compelled to prod him for more. "Huh?"
Again, he blinked and turned her way. "After… after we visit the scene… maybe then I can… answer your questions."
She changed lanes and turned on her left blinker. "Okay," she said, dragging the word out, long and slow.
He took three strides into the apartment and stopped in his tracks. Instead of rushing up to inspect the body, he stood stiffly by the couch. "Uhm, Eames… could you, uh… trade with me on this one?" he asked.
"You sure?" Alex asked, and he nodded.
"Please."
"Okay, Bobby." Alex gloved up and walked over to the body, a woman between 45 and 50 years old. She had been drinking champagne with a friend when they both apparently keeled over. Thanks to the friend, this was a Major Case. He was a pro football player, and she was a sports writer. Alex inspected the bodies as carefully as she could, then turned to look at the champagne glasses and bottle. Bobby was milling around, looking at her bookshelves and her knick-knacks.
When she'd gathered all she could, she got to her feet. Alex met Bobby by the door. He was already peeling off his gloves and walking out. Now he seemed agitated.
"Bobby, what?!" Alex asked.
"Not here," he said firmly. He walked briskly to the car and dropped inside, slamming the door shut.
Alex circled around and climbed in, too. She looked at him in anticipation.
Angrily, Bobby swiped his hand through his hair. He looked out the window, then towards his partner. His hand dropped to his lap. "She- she was my- " He sighed. He frowned. "She was my wife."
"What?!"
"Well, not, not legally, but we had a… we had an… agreement between us…" His emotional reactions were making sense now. "It was a long time ago," Bobby explained, his hand waving in the air and stirring up his words. "I was in the Army, and we, you know we dated before, and then I joined up, and when I came home on leave…" In other circumstances that might have been a happy grin on his face, but instead, the smile was filled with pain.
"Celeste was, well she was like nobody I've ever known…"
"She was a sports writer," Alex chimed in.
"Yeah, back then, she wrote anything, everything, but yeah. Sports was her love." He laughed as he spoke of the memories. "She used to drag me to these… rugby games, she'd try to convince me to play, you know, just because I was big."
"You didn't play?" Alex asked with a grin.
"Rugby isn't anything like football."
"I know, but still… you didn't play?"
"The one time I played I ended up stuck on the couch for three days, licking my wounds." His smile faded and was replaced by a new wave of grief.
"What happened? Why didn't you stay with her?"
He held up his open left hand, then closed it and let it drift back to his lap. He was too buried in his memories to answer her.
"You'll have to tell the Captain. He can give the case to another team."
"No, it's okay."
"Bobby, I'm sorry to say this, but you seem a little distracted."
"Twenty years, Eames. It's not gonna compromise my objectivity."
"You called her your wife, Bobby. That's a pretty heavy word."
"Twenty years."
She nodded. "Okay. I believe you, but you'll have to convince the Captain."
"Celeste Phillips," Bobby reminded the Captain.
"And Jerry Borseth," Alex added. "They were celebrating something. Looked to me like there was something in the champagne."
"We're, uh, gonna retrace their steps, try and find out who else knew they were..." he cleared his throat, "celebrating."
Alex looked at her partner with wide eyes.
"And, uhm, Captain?"
"Yes?" Ross stood with his head down, as he often did, but his eyes were on his Detective.
"I, uh… I have a personal connection to one of the victims."
Ross cocked his head. "You do."
"Twenty years ago," Bobby said. "Celeste was, uh… a friend. More than 20 years, really."
"And you were… special friends?"
Bobby frowned and glanced over at Eames. "I, uh, I guess you could say that."
"And you stayed in touch?"
"No sir."
"Are you asking me to take you off the case?"
"No, sir. I just… I just thought you should know."
Ross nodded silently and then gave Eames a look that said it all. Bobby went back to the bullpen, and Alex turned to follow, but the Captain's voice stopped her. "Eames," he said firmly.
She paused and faced him.
"I need to know—"
"I'll keep my eye on him, Captain. Don't worry."
