Yuletide Spirit
[response to Challenge]
By Jaye Reid.
Written: 11 – 14.11.1999
Disclaimer: Trying to sneak out with them!
[beep beep beep beep]
Oh hell! Metal detector has gone off. Damn, why do these Frank and Rachel dolls have to carry guns? Can't get them out of here.
Damn, you Hal. and Co., why do you have to be so greedy? I only want to play for a little while. You'll hardly notice they are gone.
Authors notes: Well I love Challenges. This is my first response to the Christmas fic challenge. I say first because you never know what else I might come up with. Although it is set after the Christmas party, it is still firmly intrenched around Christmas!
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Christmas Day in at the Offices of the Sydney Water police always seemed to resemble a meeting of the League of Nations. Anyone who didn't celebrate Christmas, for what ever reason, usually volunteered to work.
This year was no exception. Rachel Goldstein was the only Detective on duty. Downstairs several uniformed officers were going about their work. Although the faces were familiar, she didn't know their names without looking at their name tags.
Rachel didn't mind working. She planned to have a few days off over Yom Kippur and Succoth – The Harvest Festival. Jonathon had 'agreed' to let David come and stay so they could spend some time together. Well David had probably pestered his father until he had given in. David had been the one to phone. Determined little bugger, she thought. Didn't need to ask who he inherited that from.
Working Christmas day was a perfect opportunity to catch up on some long overdue paperwork. She hadn't minded being indoors for the morning. The dull headache that she had started the day with had all but disappeared. They all had a few too many to drink down at the Bar the night before. Just because she didn't celebrate Christmas, didn't mean she couldn't join in.
It was quiet. She really wanted something to do to break up the day. But it was unfortunate that ninety – nine percent of her work was dealing with other people's misery. Having something to work on meant that someone else's life was being turned upside down.
Rachel looked up at the postcards pinned to her office wall. There were seven of them there. The last one she had received a few weeks before.
Frank was crazy. He knew very well she didn't celebrate Christmas. But he sent a postcard from Hawaii with an extremely overdressed guy in a Santa suit, lying on a deck chair on the beach. He was surrounded by very scantily dressed leggy blondes who were lying on the sand.
The message read:
"Hey Rach. Santa told me that if I was a good boy he would get them for me for Christmas. What do you reckon? Love Frank"
She still laughed. She wasn't sure what part she was mean to comment on. Whether she thought he had been a good boy, what she thought of him *wanting* them, or what his chances of *getting* them were?
Jack had gone up the coast for a few days. He had asked Rachel to go too. But she wanted to save her days off, and he understood. He knew David was her first priority. She also knew he hoped that he was her second priority. But in her heart she knew that place had been taken a long time ago. Despite the fact that Frank had gone, she just couldn't bring herself to let that position become vacant again. Jack was a great guy. She liked him. But she knew she didn't love him. She did her best to avoid any such discussion. She didn't want to lie to him.
He seemed to know all the wrong things to say to piss her off at work, and all the right things to say when they were in bed, wrapped around each other in the middle of the night. But he wasn't Frank. She laughed to herself. There was only one Francis Holloway. They broke the mold after *he* was born!
The Office was reasonably quiet. The phone had rung a couple of times. One of those had been Helen and Tayler to say they were thinking of her. They always had family Christmas gatherings. It was good for them to get together like that. It was a role play that happened rarely. They were more used to the Senior Officer and Junior Officer routine. Helen had once admitted to Rachel that it was sometimes difficult to just be themselves and not pull rank.
Mick was spending the day with his family. He only had the one day off. He would be in for Boxing Day. Rachel was rather looking forward to the company. Ah, Boxing Day. For once she wouldn't have to worry about finding out the damn Cricket Test Match scores. Frank used to drive her insane!
Rachel's day dragged on. Nothing much came along for the afternoon either to give her much joy. She reorganised her desk drawer. Sorted through her filing cabinets. Archiving out of date information. Colour coding the files. Blue tabs with a yellow sticker meant case solved, by her. Blue tab with orange sticker meant case solved, by Frank. Blue tab with red sticker meant they had done it together. Well actually they all were worked on together. But they always knew who had the most input into getting it right. They used to keep a score. She figured, from looking at the files in the archive box, that the mix of colours was pretty even. Anyway, the cabinet was nowless cluttered. Room for more.
And there would always be more.
She was putting the last of them away when one of the 'uniforms' appeared at the doorway.
"We've just had a call," he said. "Shots fired on a yacht in the Harbour. Apparently one D.O.A. and another not in good condition."
"Yep, fine. On to it. Someone headed down to the Launch?" she asked.
"Yes, on their way down there now," he replied. And then he was gone.
Rachel looked at her watch. Typical. Only twenty minutes until knock off time. Why was it that the calls always came in when it was finishing time?
Oh well, it wasn't as if she had anything to do when she got home anyway.
Christmas Day and someone obviously didn't like what Santa had brought them. She thought of Frank as she headed down to the launch. She wondered, with a grin, if he got what he wanted for Christmas?
They headed out into the Harbour. The water was choppy today. The wind had been overly strong the past week. Usually the water didn't bother her. But she was getting tired of the squalls that had been blowing up lately. It was going to make the Sydney to Hobart Yacht Race a real nightmare again this year. Bugger the idea of sailing on the seas. Frank could have *that* all to himself.
They approached the yacht with caution. They had been told it was all clear, but you never knew with these situations. There were two boats there. It made Rachel more suspicious. Was it a set up? She wasn't sure.
"What's with the other boat?" she asked one of the guys.
"Ah, passerby apparently. Radioed it in. Witnessed the whole thing. You'll have a few questions for them I suppose," the Officer said.
She gave him a glare. What sort of idiot question was that, she thought. She was a bloody Detective. Of course she would want to interview someone who damn well witnessed the shooting.
They pulled the Nemesis along side one of the yachts. They had been given the details over the radio as to which boat it was. But Rachel was still concerned about the other boat.
There was no sign of anyone as they pulled along side. Now she was getting more worried. Damn. Of all days to be working by herself. She drew her police issued friend from its holster. She wanted to be ready, as she jumped over to the yacht. Still no one. But bloodied footprints. She managed to avoid walking through them. Evidence. Don't go disturbing the crime scene she thought. Too much bloody paperwork. Why wasn't there anyone else here?
She tentatively walked toward the front of the yacht. She could see one person. She didn't need to ask if they were dead. There wasn't much left of her head. Well she assumed from the clothing that the victim was female. Shit what a mess.
"Merry Christmas to you." she said under her breath at the corpse.
She headed back along the side. She heard a noise. She froze, her gun drawn. There was someone coming up from below deck. She nodded to the other Officers to be ready. She had the advantage, she was behind the hatch. They wouldn't see her. The other Officers took up their positions. She had no idea how they operated, so she hoped they would take her lead.
They waited until the guy was on deck. She didn't want to have him bolt back down below, so she waited until he was in full view. She pointed her gun at the back of his head. Always had to be ready to shoot to kill. No point in wounding them.
"Don't move," she stated in her best official 'don't mess with me' voice.
The other officers appeared, guns also drawn.
"What the…. Shit! Okay, okay…." He put his hands up so they could see. "This is a great welcome home I *must* say."
Rachel rolled her eyes and lowered her weapon. She knew that voice anywhere.
"Jesus friggin' Christ! Frank! What the hell are you doing here?"
"Yeah, well I missed you too thanks Rachel. Hey can you call your goons off?"
"Ah yeah, sure. Guys it's okay, he's one of us."
They lowered their weapons and Frank felt it safe to turn around to Rachel.
"Shit Frank!" exclaimed Rachel, "don't look now but something has crawled onto your face, and I think it has died there."
"Oh, yeah, the beard, well I couldn't be stuffed shaving everyday," he grinned, rubbing the whiskers on his chin. I'm starting to get used to it."
"Don't expect me to get anywhere near it," she added.
"Hmm, thought wouldn't have crossed my mind," he replied. "So how's life Rachel?"
"Oh, just dandy," she replied. "I was just about ready to knock off work you know."
"So do you want to do some work here Detective or not. You *do* know what to do don't you?"
"Get stuffed Frank!"
"Oh, glad to see you haven't lost your sense of humour while I was gone either. Well do you want to know what the story is here?" he asked.
"I was told there was a witness. Don't tell me that is you?" she asked. "Can't you keep outa trouble for five seconds?"
"Hey, I was just sailin' along having a nice little daydream," he said with a mischievous grin, "I had the binoculars out checking out what was happening on the Harbour when I spotted this guy. By the way, he is below, and dead now. Self inflicted lead poisoning to the head. Not a pretty sight."
"Yeah, well," added Rachel, "she doesn't look too good either." Nodding towards the front of the boat.
"Yeah, I know. They seemed to be arguing. He had a gun, pointing at her, then the next thing I knew she went down. He didn't hang around on deck for long after that. Went below and then as I was getting closer I heard another shot. By the time I got here, she was gone, well she would have been straight away and he was almost gone too. He died a couple of minutes ago."
"Did he say anything?" she asked.
"Nah, not capable really. You'll understand if you have a look at the shotgun wound," replied Frank sticking his finger to his neck.
"Well," she said in her Police tone, almost mocking him really, "you will have to come into the Station and make an official statement."
"Oh, I will?" he replied cheekily turning his head to one side. "Ah, yeah, I think I could manage that."
"You want a lift?" she asked. "What happened to the boat? Did ya put it through the wash on hot or something? Seems to have shrunk somewhat?"
"Hmm, yeah, well 'Footloose' is no more. We had a little accident. Some bloody dickhead wanted it though, and was willing to do a swap for me. I reckon I got the better of the deal."
"So you came back here? You must have made good time. That postcard was from Hawaii only a couple of weeks ago." queried Rachel.
Frank smiled. She was such a bloody Detective. She never switched off. "Ah well, you caught me out I guess. I had someone post it for me a couple of weeks after I left. I wanted to surprise you!"
"So, you travelling alone?" Rachel asked.
"Yeah."
"So, Santa didn't come through with the goods then. Or were you a naughty boy?" she mocked with a grin.
"Me, naughty? Rachel… how could you say such a thing!"
"Yeah, whatever you reckon. Anyway, back to work. I will need that statement, so when you're ready…."
"Yeah, okay I will meet you back on shore," he replied. Before she realised he had given her a quick prickly kiss on the cheek and was heading back to his yacht.
She broke into an uncontrolled grin. "Hey Frank?"
Frank turned and looked at her, "yeah?"
"Welcome home!"
Yeah ta," he replied with a grin. Well she thought he was grinning. It was difficult to tell under all that fuzz on his face. "Hey perhaps we could pick it up from where we left it at my place last time. You know, before I sailed off."
"In ya dreams Francis!" she called.
"Oh Rachel," he yelled back as he jumped across to his boat, "I will tell you *all* about what's been in my dreams while I've been away."
"We'll see," she laughed.
"Bloody hope so!" he called.
The End.