Author's note:
This has been percolating for a while, sitting on the back burner of my brain – poor thing. Not your usual Charlie Crews story in that I have tried to answer some of the questions that bothered me about what came before. So, this is a series of glimpses into the four months prior to Charlie taking up his post as a Detective at Robbery/Homicide. I needed to know why that huge prisoner looked after Ted, who that young woman was that wandered down Charlie's stairs in his shirt and Ted said that Charlie was fond of her. Little things, you know
A Sunny Day
Part 1
It was the longest walk of his life. He kept his face composed, not showing the seething anxiety that roiled just below the surface. He had a reputation to uphold, a façade to keep in place just in case this call was not what he so desperately hoped for.
Five short minutes was all it took to turn his world upside down.
Charlie's hand was shaking as he put the phone back on its holder. For a moment he could barely breathe and his vision began to dim.
He hadn't wanted to get his hopes up, but all day he'd been waiting for this call. Good or bad, he knew his life would be changed forever. If things had gone badly, he wasn't sure how he'd carry on. He'd fought hard to gain some respect in his own tiny world; a battle waged both internally and with those around him. The route to harmony had been a rough one and he would always bear the scars, some visible on his body but mostly those buried deep within.
He turned, eyes not really seeing his surroundings, his ears blocking out the sound of the other inmates talking, laughing as though today wasn't momentous.
"Charlie?"
Ed had been standing guard while Charlie took Constance's call. The communal phone was often a site of sudden attacks whilst the caller's attention was otherwise occupied. He'd acquired the slice in his side from one such incident – the day his father called to say his mother had died. All in all, that had been a crap day.
"She's done it," he murmured. Then he raised his eyes to meet those of his cellmate. "She's got me out of here, Ed. Tomorrow morning." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Tomorrow I'll be free."
Ed's large meaty hand came down on Crews' shoulder in a hearty slap that nearly knocked him off his feet. Ed was huge, topping Charlie's six foot one by quite a few inches, and considerably heavier. They'd become tentative friends over the past six weeks, Charlie's calm helping to keep Ed out of trouble on more than one occasion. And that effort was reciprocated by Ed keeping the scum from trying their luck with the ex cop, though Charlie had accrued a reputation now that kept most of the chancers from trying their luck. His run-in with a certain prison guard had rocketed the respect within the community. He was quick to defend himself, had learned the dirtier ways to protect what was his and had gone on the offensive more than once. He'd been changed from a soft target to a man you didn't tangle with, a man Charlie desperately wanted to leave behind along with the memories of what he'd done and what had been done to him.
Charlie had always known why Ed had been put in with him. The man had a rep for uncontrolled violence and had put more than one cellmate in the infirmary. So when he had looked up from his book and seen the man-mountain ushered in, he knew it was the governor's idea of fitting punishment for crimes perceived, and undertaken.
Charlie gathered his calm and let the armour he'd been wearing for the past decade settle on him. Now was not the time to relax his guard, he had five more hours before he would be back in his cell and finally free from the threat of attack. It would be the finest irony should he meet a nasty end today of all days. His eyes scanned the area, noting where the most likely danger lay.
He slept badly that night. Not that he ever slept well. Even in solitary he had felt the pressure of so many violent souls pressing in on him, leaving him un-rested every morning. Then he would start his day with another chapter from the book that had become his personal bible. He'd read it a hundred times, and a hundred times more and each time he found something else that hit a nerve, or opened a door. By the time the day was over he'd needed that reassurance again until the message was so firmly embedded that he could just close his eyes and summon the words he needed to stay in the moment.
Tonight, he had the dream that had haunted him for months. He was back in solitary dressed in his civilian clothes, the white walls seeming to crush in on him, and in the doorway Connie stood, a halo of light limned her as though she were an angel sent to pluck him from this hell. She had called to him and he had risen from his bed and almost ran toward her. Steps from the door she would vanish from his sight, the door would slam shut with a ringing finality and he was back in the bright orange jump suit his body quivering.
Charlie woke early and was already sitting on his bed ready to leave when the jailers came for him. Ed was also awake and he rose to stand beside his cellmate one last time.
"You won't forget, will you, Charlie?"
Crews turned and held out his hand, feeling it crushed in a hearty handshake. "I won't," he replied solemnly. "You'll take care, right? Don't get into trouble now I'm not here. I left the book for you, I…"
"If you two lovebirds have finished?" The guard's harsh tones grated in the early morning quiet. Along the row of cells, other inmates were woken by the noise and now a line of interested faces peered out through bars. As he was escorted out, a barrage of abusive comments were hurled at the guards and Charlie as he was taken to the showers.
Two burly guards stood watching him as he stripped out of the jump suit for the last time, their faces impassive. On the bench were piled the clothes he had come in wearing. He picked up the tee shirt – it smelled faintly musty and rather unpleasant from its twelve years storage. He pulled it on over his head, then finished dressing as quickly as he could. His shirt was still crumpled from being manhandled the day he was arrested. The jeans were loose around his waist; years of constant fear were a great weight loss programme, but one Charlie would have gladly passed up. It felt strange to be dressed in real clothes once more - strange and emotional. He'd been with Jen when he'd been arrested. They'd been browsing the local market when the squad cars had swooped in and almost snatched him from the street. He took a deep breath and turned to follow the guards to the property office.
The plain brown envelope spilled its contents across the desk. The sergeant had a list attached to his clipboard, and in an impersonal voice began to list off the items.
Wallet: black leather, contents two credit cards, drivers' licence, thirty seven dollars and fifty nine cents, shopping list.
Keys: house and car.
Watch: black strap, silver dial.
Ring: gold wedding band.
Charlie slipped his wallet into his back pocket, the watch went back on his wrist, the keys into his front pocket and the ring… that he slipped into the top pocket of his shirt, he needed time to think about that, but not now, no, not now.
He signed the waiver and turned to leave, hope and mistrust at war within him. Even now he half expected to be called back, to be unceremoniously stripped of his civilian clothes and forced back into the jump suit.
Seven am and he was striding out to the main road, his two jailers a step behind him. Outside the gate, he could see Connie standing by her car. The urge to sprint the last few yards was almost overpowering, but he kept a strict check on his steps, he had no intention of giving anything away to the two goons who had been at his side since he rose that morning.
"Want us to keep your room for you, Crews? You know you'll be back."
Charlie ignored the comment. Just a few more steps and he would be free.
"Your boyfriend's gonna miss ya, Charlie boy. Any last messages?" This from goon number two.
Outside the gate Connie had stepped closer as though aware of the conflict within him. He latched onto her concerned gaze and gave a slight smile. He owed these two guards; owed them for the humiliation and pain he had suffered over the last few years. He couldn't get payback today, no not today, but his time would come.
He stepped free of the gates and onto the sidewalk and let his eyes close for an instant as he revelled in his freedom. Above, the sky seemed somehow bluer, the sun warmer on his skin and the air fresher than he could ever remember it. And then Connie moved close, her hand resting lightly on his arm as she leaned in to kiss his cheek. She smelled delicious, an earthy scent that tickled his senses, her warmth tempting him. It had been so long, but in his top pocket a gold ring weighed heavy over his heart and in his thoughts.
"I know you don't want to think about things today, Charlie, but there are certain visits we need to make as soon as possible." Connie's sultry tones brought him back from the dark turn his thoughts were taking.
"Charlie?"
"Anywhere that isn't here is fine by me. Even though here will always be with me," he replied, his eyes a little bleak.
"Okay," she said slowly. "First trip is to the bank when they open. I've organised a bank account for you, but the forms still need filling in and your approval. Then there's a hefty settlement to be managed, so we'll need a trustworthy account manager."
"Settlement?" In all the time that Charlie had been talking to his attorney, he'd only been vaguely aware of the financial implications. His freedom came first, secondly his position as a detective in the Robbery/Homicide division, at the very bottom of his list came compensation for what had been done to him.
The smile she gave him was enough to give him the hint that this was no petty ante token gesture. "You might want to sit down for this," and she gestured to her car. A few minutes later, buckled in and with the engine turning over, she turned in her seat to look him in the eye. She'd purposefully kept him ignorant of the total amount she'd negotiated. Charlie had been focused on getting out, nothing more, and she hadn't wanted to get his hopes up. "Fifty million US dollars."
Charlie blinked, shook his head in disbelief, and then blinked once again. The amount was incomprehensible to someone who'd scraped by on a policeman's wage. It was too large to even contemplate what he could, or couldn't do with it.
"Charlie?"
"How…? What am I to do with all that money?" he said softly.
She reached out to touch him again. "Whatever you want," she replied just as quietly, then, "But don't go mad with it, okay? I've got a couple of investment managers in mind to make this money work for you."
Charlie latched onto that thought. "I know who I want. The man's name is Ted Early - he's a genius with money."
"The name doesn't ring a bell. I'll look him up and see if he's available. Any idea where he practices from?"
He smiled, and leaned back against the leather upholstery. "Ted was in prison with me, Connie, I don't think he'll be practicing anywhere right now."
She looked across at him. His eyes were closed, a slight smile tugged at his lips and there was a sense of relaxation about him that hadn't been there moments before. And then, as though someone has turned a switch, he fell asleep. Even as she turned the key and started the car, Charlie remained oblivious. A tender smile flitted briefly across her face as she pulled away from the kerb, they'd discuss letting an ex con handle his fortune later.
The bank was busy, but it seemed that they were expected. A boyish looking thirty-something strode forward as they entered, his hand extended in welcome.
Charlie took an instant dislike to the man. Something didn't sit right in his gut, and he had learned to listen to that instinct. In prison he had got used to summing people up quickly. It could literally be life or death if he misjudged, and what he saw in the face opposite him, didn't fill him with confidence. They shook hands and Charlie's hackles started to rise.
By the time they'd been ushered into the chrome and white office, he was pretty damn sure he wasn't going to be entrusting his money to this man.
He sat in the chair offered and scanned the banker again. Every instinct screamed a no, so, even though he'd probably get an earful, he had to say something.
He leaned over to Connie and whispered in her ear. "I don't like the look of him, can I bank somewhere else?"
Constance turned and stared at him, eyebrows raised. "Charlie, you don't even know the man," she whispered back.
Charlie's eyes narrowed as he scanned the banker's face again, the man's gaze flitting between the two in some concern.
"Is there a problem?" he asked.
"How much do you earn a year, Mr Wilde?" Charlie asked out of the blue.
"I, er… that's besides the point here, Mr Crews. We are here to sort out your banking needs." The false smile was obvious to someone who had spent twelve years learning how to read the warning signs given out unconsciously.
"How much are you skimming, Mr Wilde?"
Connie's horrified gaze moved between the two men. "Ah, we'll um, we'll come back at a later time, Mr Wilde. I'm sorry about this." Grabbing Charlie's arm, she hauled him up and marched him out of the room, through the foyer and out onto the street before letting go.
"What the hell was that about? You can't go accusing someone of theft out of the blue like that! Are you asking for trouble?"
Charlie stood his ground. "Did you see that watch, Connie? No way he could afford that on an account manager's wages. The suit? I bet that cost as much as I would earn in a six month. I couldn't afford that kind of gear, but I saw it often enough on the job to know what something like that costs. He's not clean, and he's not handling my money."
"And if he decides to put in a complaint about you? I don't want to see you lose everything because you see criminals everywhere you go." Her voice was steely as she put into words what she had feared from the time he left jail. It was only natural that he would be distrustful, but this was going beyond the line of what she would tolerate, no matter if it did upset him.
Crew's face grew grim. "Oh he won't put in a complaint. If he's skimming from the bank, the last thing he'll want is someone having to check out the accusation." He nodded to the bank across the street, "Let's try in there."
Connie let out a long sigh, shook her head and backed down, when it came to it Charlie was her client, he paid her wages, or at least he would. But she was not going to let him make a huge mistake, not if she could help it at least.
The bank was less chrome and glass and more wood and tiles, and Charlie found it much more to his liking.
Casting a warning glance his way, Connie left him standing by the windows and went in search of a customer service representative. A few minutes later they were ushered into another office. The walls here decorated with family photos rather than diplomas. The woman behind the desk was in her fifties, carefully groomed but with a twinkle in her eye that Charlie immediately took to.
Some twenty minutes later they left, Charlie smiling happily, Connie having to shift her perceptions of her client one step to the left. The accounts had been organised in rapid time, transfers made via the computer and a temporary card issued there and then. It wasn't every day that the bank took on a client worth fifty million, and they proved that in exceptional circumstances the wheels could turn very fast indeed.
Back on the street, they were making their way back to her car when Charlie suddenly veered off course and headed towards a vendor's stand. Fresh oranges were piled to one side, a machine for making juice drinks taking up the rest of the cart.
"What can I get you, mate?" the vendor asked, seeing a potential client.
Connie joined Charlie.
"Oranges, Connie. Do you know how long it's been since I had fresh fruit?" The longing in his voice made Connie catch her breath.
"We'll take six oranges, please. Put them in a bag if you have one?" She pulled out her purse and paid the man, took the bag and gave it to Charlie. He gazed at the fruit as though someone had just given him the secret to eternal life.
She pressed her lips together, determined not to lose it on the street. Coughing, she attracted his attention and steered him back to her car. For the next ten minutes Charlie indulged himself, spilling juice down his chin and onto the well-worn denim of his jeans and filling the car with the tang of citrus.
Charlie had never been fond of clothes shopping. Like most men he was happy if it was comfortable and practical. He'd never bothered about the latest trends, or designer clothes. Jen had bought him nice clothes; he'd bought himself whatever came to hand. Now he had the money he still wanted clothes that were more his style.
Connie, however, had other ideas. "You're going to be a detective; you have a certain standard to maintain, Charlie. Believe me, I know about dressing for the job."
Charlie looked her over. Even today, when she was not expected to work, she was still smartly dressed. It didn't look terribly comfortable. His indecision must have shown.
"Believe me, if it's well made, it's comfortable. I couldn't be all day in something that wasn't. But I'll give you a break for today; we'll go for casual, okay?"
Relieved, he nodded his assent, but quickly changed his mind when Connie drove into one of the more expensive shopping districts.
The place was rather intimidating, and Charlie was feeling more than vulnerable. Just a few hours ago he'd been locked up with a bunch of rough convicts, virtually anonymous in his jump suit, not standing out as he did now in his well-worn denims and faded tee shirt. He looked exactly what he was, out of place and out of his depth.
A tall, elegant blonde floated over to them, her perfume reaching him long before she was standing before them. Connie explained what they wanted – she didn't seem impressed but instead called over an assistant. This woman was a glorious light coffee colour with curly hair and smiling eyes. Charlie's barriers began to fall.
"He needs dressing from the skin out," Connie stated. "Whatever he needs; underwear, casual, smart and he'll need to be measured for at least six suits. Shirts, ties, shoes, everything. No price limit, but I do expect good quality."
"She's a lawyer, you know," Charlie whispered, the hint of a smile on his face.
The assistant's eyes widened, probably at the thought of the commission involved rather than Connie's profession. Dealing with people of her ilk was a day-to-day occurrence.
Charlie could see the speculation in the woman's gaze.
"I'm Charlie, by the way. And no, I'm not her toy boy." He grinned at Connie, turning the embarrassment into a joke with his cheeky grin.
An hour later and they emerged with nearly a dozen fancy bags containing enough clothes to see him through a week or so. He baulked at designer underwear at first, until he'd noted the interest in his personal shopper's eye. Maybe nice underwear wasn't such a bad idea after all. After that, he was pretty much putty in her hands, nodded acceptance of lightweight trousers, an array of tees and shirts, even a hoodie, something he'd not expected to find in an establishment like this.
He'd ended up leaving his old clothing behind, after quickly removing his wedding band and putting it safely in his wallet, and stepped out into the street in his new clothes, which he had to admit were very comfortable. Connie had grinned at him after he had admitted that wearing nice clothes wasn't all that bad, and his face had softened into a gentle smile before he leant over to kiss her cheek murmuring a thank you as he did so.
The ten-minute nap he'd had that morning did little to relieve the creep of exhaustion that was tugging at his mind. It was barely ten o'clock in the evening but Charlie headed for bed. The room that Connie had prepared for him was well appointed, the furniture heavy and expensive. Looking out the window he noted the other large town houses along the street. The area was affluent, fairly quiet and a lifetime away from what he was used to.
He fell asleep almost instantly, dragged down by the lack of sleep the night before and the tension that had thrummed through him for most of the day. Freedom, wonderful as it was, was harder to come to terms with than he had expected.
A few hours later Charlie was awake - wide awake. He was unused to the comparative quiet, the sounds of cars passing down the street, the lack of voices shouting out and the loud snores of Ed, his cellmate. Whatever the cause, he was now unable to sleep. He tossed and turned for a while then gave up. Rising, he made his way to the window and perched on the wide sill, his forehead resting against the cool glass. The glow from the streetlamps outside gave him enough light to see what he was doing.
It was gone two in the morning; most of the houses were dark now, just the odd upstairs light showing that he was not the only person unable to sleep. They'd done so much today, but there was still so much to do. He had to track down Ted. His friend hadn't done well in prison and he wasn't sure how well he'd cope being back on the street again. What could the man do by way of employment? Was he on welfare or was he hiding himself away somewhere, drifting on a downward spiral? Charlie had the horrible thought that Ted would not bounce back easily - he was barely holding it together with Connie's help, who did Ted have?
And, much as he appreciated all that Connie had done for him, this house felt constricting. He wasn't sure why, but now that there was no longer a table between them, their connection seemed closer than it should. Her husband was off on a business trip and Charlie had been very aware that he was sharing a house with a beautiful woman.
His gaze drifted to the plain gold band that he'd positioned on the bedside table earlier that evening. Jen's face flashed into his consciousness. She'd married someone else, was living a new life with a new man. Sleeping with someone else, when it should have been him. The sense of betrayal hit him once again. He'd seen it in her eyes when she'd visited him in prison before the trial. The doubt that showed in her gaze even as she had smiled at him and told him all would be okay. He'd felt that duplicity like a stab through the heart. Even though he'd sworn to her that he had done nothing and that it was a mistake, she had not believed him. Had she ever known him? Had he ever known her? It didn't stop him wanting her though, and that was another tragedy in his life.
Slowly he reached over and picked up the band. A perfect circle meant to symbolise unity; a lifelong commitment, or at least that is what he had expected it to be. He slid the ring over his finger and pushed it down. It was too large now, not much, but enough that it was too loose to wear comfortably. There was probably some deep meaning to the fact that it no longer fit, he was no longer her husband – he was no longer a married man. He slid it off again with equal care, replacing it on the cabinet and returning his gaze to the street below.
Tomorrow he must find a good bookshop and replace his book on Zen. Although he could quote pages from it now, he wanted that physical weight in his hand – he needed it. Being without was like going cold turkey.
"Charlie, are you okay? You left your door open."
The soft voice caught him unawares. Connie stood in the open doorway. She'd changed clothes when they had returned and was still wearing the sweatpants and tee shirt she'd donned a few hours before. Her brow was furrowed in mild concern as she gazed at him.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you." Charlie turned to look directly at her, doing his best to ignore her concern.
"You didn't, " she replied. "I've just finished up some paperwork and saw your door open on the way up." She paused. "Can't sleep?"
He half smiled and shrugged. "Too wired, too much to take in, too much to think about, but I'm okay. Go to bed, Connie, I'll be fine."
She took his dismissal calmly, nodded and turned to leave then turned back again. "If you need to talk, you know where I am. Any time, Charlie. Any time."
He nodded, knowing she would be a good listener, but he wasn't ready to share his doubts right now. He had to get his confidence back and be able to cope with the world that had changed so much in the last twelve years.
"Don't sit up all night, okay? Get some rest."
He turned back to the window and murmured softly, "Better to sit all night than go to bed with a dragon."
Charlie got out of the cab and looked up at the depressing building, his face not giving away his misgivings. He paid the driver, tipping too generously, then, taking a deep breath he made his way into the foyer. The hotel was the type that got raided on a regular basis. It was the sort of place that hired rooms by the hour, or rented rooms to low-lifes who couldn't afford any better. That Ted had ended up here made Charlie's gut clench in anger.
Ted had paid a huge price for his crime, the punishment not ending when he'd served out his time. And prison had been tough for the gentle soul that he was. He hadn't taken the beatings Charlie had, but he'd been on the receiving end of more than one fist fest. He'd been too bright for his own good - the system making it easy for him to use his skills on insider trading. He'd been a rich man – for a while. To come down to this… Afraid of what he might find, Charlie tackled the clerk at the desk. A couple of twenties later and he had a room number. Climbing the stairs, he made sure not to touch the walls or the handrail. Not that his sensibilities were so nice, but he didn't want to contemplate what the green and brown stains were that decorated every surface. Standing under Constance's power shower that morning, had given him a taste of what his life was going to be. It was the little things that meant the most in any life. Cars, houses, holidays that lasted months and took you to exotic destinations didn't compare to standing under hot running water and enjoying eggs and orange juice for breakfast, or standing under the bright sun and knowing he was free to go anywhere he wanted.
There was no sound from the other side of the battered door that he now stood in front of. Was Ted out? He knocked and waited. No answer. He tried again, still silence greeted him. "Ted, are you there? It's Charlie, Charlie Crews."
He heard steps then, and the scrape of a chain being put into place, then the door opened a fraction and a suspicious eye peered around the door. "Charlie?"
"Hi, Ted. Can I come in?" Crews kept his voice low and soothing. The tremor in Ted's voice was something he hadn't heard in a long time. Not since the first day they'd met in prison and Charlie had rescued him from the hands of two thugs playing with the frightened man.
The door closed, the chain rattled and then Ted let the door swing wide, moving away as Charlie came into the room. A quick glance showed just how far down Ted had gone. The walls were a putrid shade of brown, matching the scarred linoleum floor. The furniture had obviously come with the room, each piece barely fit for purpose. Greying sheets were tangled on the bed, and dirty cups and plates littered the floor around a single armchair.
Ted's hair was overlong and didn't look too clean. His clothes had that lived in look, rumpled, stained and a long way from being new. A few days growth of beard clung to a face that seemed a lot thinner than it had before he'd been released from jail. He was a man on a slippery slope to despair.
His friend had moved to look out the window, not that much could be seen through the dirty panes. Shoulders high, hands shoved into his pockets, his back screamed insecurity and a need to protect himself. This was not where he was meant to be, not who he had been and certainly not what he wanted now. Charlie felt the tug of anger tighten.
"When did you get out?"
"Last week. Constance worked her magic and got me out of there. It's taken me a while to find you."
A subtle shrug of his shoulders was Ted's only reply. Now Charlie had to find a way around the man's pride. He may have hit rock bottom, but no one likes to admit that they need help, or want to take a handout. Not that it would be that, but to a man like Ted it might just come over as an insult.
"I've rediscovered fruit, Ted. Oranges, grapefruit, mangos, grapes. Did you know that I'd never even tried mango until last week? And eggs, real eggs. Scrambled, fried, poached!"
Ted turned, his eyes wide in astonishment. "Fruit? You tracked me down to talk about fruit?"
"No, I tracked you down to talk about money. Lots of money. Lots of my money." The accompanying grin flashed across the room. "You know more about money than anyone I know. I'm here to offer you a job, Ted. I need someone I can trust one hundred percent, and you're the man."
Ted turned back to the window. "You know what I was put inside for, you don't want me anywhere near your money."
"It's an awful lot of money, Ted. Constance has a list of suits just waiting to take me on, but I don't want that. I don't know them - I don't trust them. I know you, Ted. I know what you did, but I also know who you are. I need your help, to keep it all in perspective. Right now, it's Monopoly money."
"How much?" Interested now, despite himself Ted looked back over his shoulder at his former prison buddy.
"Fifty million."
Ted's jaw dropped. "Fifty mill…Fifty million? My God, Charlie."
"Now do you see why I need someone I can trust not to screw me over?"
"Jeez."
There was a long silence, and it took all Charlie's self control to not try and push the issue.
"Invested right, that could make you a lot of money," Ted muttered.
"It could," Charlie replied. "It could also disappear in a heartbeat if the wrong people manage it."
His tone diffident, Ted asked, "When, um, when would you need me to, ah, start?"
"Today would be good, actually, today would be great. I need a house first, somewhere with a view, somewhere I don't have to worry about locking my doors."
Ted snorted. "Charlie, you'll always have to lock your doors." He paused for a moment, then, "What sort of view?"
Charlie didn't let his triumph show.
"You want lunch? I think I'm hungry! You know, I am hungry. Fancy pizza? Call it a working lunch, I'll tell you what I need, you tell me how much you want and we'll shake hands over a deep pan."
Ted shook his head. "Charlie, we will have a contract, and I'll make sure you read every line before you sign it. I can see why you need me."