I don't own these, but I sure write about these guys a whole lot.
Unexpected Possibilities
Chapter One
Christine Sullivan Dunbar lived in two worlds; one flashy and superficial, the other more ordinary and yet sometimes just as superficial as the first. Walking the line between the two wasn't ever easy. Christie was often pulled in ways she never imagined when she studied journalism at Columbia. She would be damned if she lost one because of the other. Of course, in the war between these worlds is seemed like the battle never ended.
Each and every morning Christine Sullivan entered magazine in editor mode and sat in her office to read the newspapers. Actually, she read what her readers put in front of her because Christie really didn't have time to read the New York Times, London Times, Newsday and the other papers that needed to be read. Now she had a staff to take care of weeding out the unnecessary news items. So each day there were headlines, fashion news, who's who and what's what to go over. Personally Christie got most of her political views from the Daily Show; it was compact and amusing. She just didn't say that out loud. Yet, there were two sections Christie read everyday; the funnies and the obituaries. When she read these, she was Christie Dunbar and anchored to in other, non fashion world where she resided after office hours.
It was Monday morning, 8:00 a. m. when Christie pushed through her office door and slid out of her sodden, cold rain coat. The cold October rain had been so hard and penetrating she felt clammy straight through to her skin and down to her very bones.
"Good morning, Christie," Jed Nelson waltzed into office with a tray containing a latte, an ancient grains bagel and a stack of marked up newspapers. "This morning just showed that me Indian summer has gone back to the reservation."
"You are a real Neanderthal, aren't you?" Christie smiled and reached for the latte and this morning's Times.
"I can't help it, I was raised in Scranton." Jed checked his watch, "you have a quick meeting with Hannah from entertainment features at 8:45. I'll make sure she has a de-caf before the start. 10:00 o'clock to noon the new photogs will be presenting portfolios for the spring fashion week spreads; they have to be locked down as of last week. The accountants are here from one until what ever."
"Tell me again, why did I take this job?" She absentmindedly asked as she scanned the carefully marked sections of the paper.
"A combination of pathetic guilt and over weaning ambition," Jed snarked back until he remembered that Christie was here literally over Clay Simmons dead body. "Sorry, boss lady, just falling into that bitchy old stereo type."
Christie sighed as she remembered the horror of Clay's death less than a year before.
"You know what, I see you want to finish your brekkie alone, so I'll just do to my desk and update my resume."
Christie dropped the bagel back to its plate. It seemed no matter what she managed to accomplish the ghost of Clay Simmons would never be laid to rest. Oh well, time to relax and read the obituaries and be thankful she wasn't in one. Then she saw it. Christie grabbed the Newsday and tore it open to the obituaries there and found it again.
Christie reached over and buzzed the intercom. "Jed, cancel my appointments for today and get me a car."
"I like this," Jim said as he turned off his computer, "paperwork done, coffee fresh, me inside and the rain outside."
"Where's your sense of adventure?" Marty Russo called as he went for more coffee.
"Anywhere but out in the rain, besides, it just ain't the same here without Karen complaining about the weather." Jim smiled as he remembered his partner's wedding. "Sunshine in Antigua sounds pretty good compared to the rain we got here."
"What makes you think her and Frank are gonna make it outta the bedroom." Marty dropped into his chair. "Daniels has enough money they could get room service the whole two weeks they're there." When Marty looked over at Dunbar he saw a lazy smile spread over his face. "What's with you?"
"Me?" Jim asked, "Just remembering my honeymoon, we went to the Bermuda. I think there are pink sand beaches there, but I never saw them."
After a beat, both men started laughing.
"Dunbar, my office," Fisk's voice filled the squad room.
"Dunbar, my office," imitated Russo, "what did you screw up this time?"
"I don't know, Marty. I have to remember the last time I covered your ass to see what it could be." Jim smirked as he entered the office.
The phone on Dunbar's desk rang. Marty looked around to make sure that no one was watching and picked up the receiver, "Eighth precinct."
Christie Dunbar's breathless voice hit Marty's ear. "Jimmy, I just read it in the paper. Terry and Anne Jansen are dead."
Was he sitting down?
"Jansen was legally over the limit so his reaction time was slow." Fisk's voice leaked into his consciousness again. "He and his wife were DOA. Their son was in a booster seat in the back and survived the crash but is in intensive care. Now the screwed up part, Jansen's mother died of ovarian cancer two months ago and his father is saying he's unable to deal take care of a child." He heard his boss shift his weight in his chair. This was turning into a nightmare of escalating proportions. "Annie Jansen's family wants nothing to do with the boy. After checking the legal documents you are still listed as an alternate contact in case of emergency. Jim, Keith Jansen wants to sign over all responsibilities for the boy to you."
"What," the words stopped, but the meaning still didn't penetrate like they should have. "Boss, you're saying that I just had Terry Jansen's kid foisted on me."
"Jim," Fisk cut in, "I don't know what happened between you and Jansen, but the boy is three years old. He needs someone to look after him. If you can't do it there is always foster care."
Then his phone began to ring. Jim fumbled for his phone, was it in his back pocket? He was sitting. He twisted in his seat and pulled at the phone at the same time and it fell from his fingers and smashed to the floor.
"Damn."
"It's under my desk, but I think its dead." Fisk walked round and retrieved the phone from under his desk. "Nope, not completely, do you want me to see who called?"
Jim simply held his hand out and taking the phone punched in his code numbers. The fractured speaker buzzed, "Christie's office."
"The Jansen obituary was in was in the paper today. Do you think she read it?" The Lieutenant watched the different emotions wash over Dunbar's face.
"Yeah, she read it. She reads… Damn!" Jim shot up, knocking his chair back in the process. "When am I gonna be finished with Terry?"
Fisk leaned back on his desk. "I'd say you're finished with Terry Jansen now. There is a little boy that nobody wants and that is what you are probably going to have to deal with. I'm gonna get a coffee, why don't you use my phone and call you wife. I don't think that this needs to be splashed through the squad right now."
Fisk walked out of the office to see Russo and Selway waiting for someone to come out.
"Christie Dunbar phoned," Frank started. "I picked up the call. Is it true?"
"Yeah," Fisk looked at the men and past them to the other officers who knew about the Dunbar-Jansen feud and who couldn't keep their noses out of this sad, sordid business. "Terry and Anne Jansen were killed in that five car pile up on the Sunrise Parkway. Their son is in intensive care at Long Island Jewish and it looks like the next of kin have abdicated responsibility to the godparents; Jim and Christie Dunbar."
"Damn," Tom whispered.
Marty, for once, was speechless. Then the door to Fisk's office opened up and he saw Dunbar framed in the entryway, his face blank and his eyes shut. He was hiding whatever was inside. "Boss, I need to get to One PP and straighten this mess out."
"Need a lift," Fisk asked even though he knew Jim would not take it.
"Nyah, I'll cab it." He said as he walked into the chair that stuck out in the aisle. It was the first time Fisk had seen Dunbar do that since he started here over a year before.
"No, this time I'm making sure you get there in one piece. Besides, I got some stuff that need to go there so I can kill two birds with one stone. Get ready, I'll have everything together and we leave in ten minutes."
Tom and Marty stayed quiet while Jim got his things together and pulled on his coat.
"Jim," Tom came up to him and patted his shoulder, "I'll check with human resources and see if the union can help get things worked out."
"Thanks," Jim slapped his leg to get Hank up and ready to go, "I think I'll need all the help I can get."
After the elevator doors shut on Fisk and Dunbar Marty Russo let out a long whistle. "Did you ever think that God's got something in for that guy?"
"I don't know," Tom said as he started to find the phone numbers he needed to get the ball rolling for Terry Jansen's child and the Dunbar's taking over his care. "Maybe this will end up a good thing."
tbc