"Wimp."
"You think?"
"I know."
"Right."
"You'll never do it."
"Is that a challenge?"
"Yeah."
"You're on."
The face-off would have continued, but Javier Esposito took advantage of his opponent's momentary distraction as a car horn blared close by to duck around him. He leaped, his fingers pushing the basketball through the hoop.
"No!"
"Yes!" Esposito punched the air.
"Damn it, that's the third time in a row!" Gray Leonard complained, hands on his knees as he tried to get air into his lungs. "When are you going to let me win?" he moaned.
"Never, old man."
"God, yes." Gray straightened up as much as he could, holding his back.
"Go again?" Esposito asked.
"Where do you get all this energy from?"
"Got to do something, bro." He passed the ball from hand to hand. "Best of seven."
"No." Gray nodded towards the side of the public basketball court. "Besides, it looks like you've got company. Because my luck just isn't good enough to have a woman like that waiting on me."
Esposito looked across. Lanie Parish stood just outside the fence, resplendent in what looked like a loose blue silk sleeveless top and formfitting black skirt, accessorised by the trademark look on her face that didn't bode well. "Yeah," he agreed on a sigh. "She's for me."
Gray shook his head. "Pity. But I have to get back to work anyway. These lunchtimes have been fun, but I have to go lie down and die somewhere right now."
Esposito laughed and clapped his old friend on the back hard enough to make him stagger. "Tomorrow?"
"Depends on if I can find a portable defibrillator to get my heart started again."
"Well, if you don't, she can do the autopsy. She's an ME."
"Not quite the kind of introduction I would have liked." Gray picked up his things and sauntered to the gate. "And from the looks of things I don't think you want to keep her waiting unless you want to end up on the slab yourself." He grinned and walked out, pausing for a moment next to Lanie. "Here," he said, holding out a $20 bill. "This is his."
She flashed him a warm smile. "Thanks."
"Don't hurt him too much."
"He deserves it."
"Ma'am, I've known Javier for fifteen years. You don't have to tell me." Gray laughed and walked away.
Lanie stepped onto the court but stopped just inside, her foot tapping.
"Hey," Esposito said, picking up a towel and rubbing at his neck.
"Don't you hey me." She crossed her arms. "Just what do you think you're doing?"
"What does it look like I'm doing?" he countered.
"Not caring if you've got a career or not."
He dried his hands. "Got that right."
"Javier Esposito, have you taken leave entirely of what little senses you have?" She rolled her eyes. "You're a cop. You know you are. That's what you do."
"Maybe I want to try something else." He stuffed the towel into his holdall and picked up the ball. "I've done it before."
He went to walk out past her, anger rolling through him, the same anger he'd felt in Gates' office, but she stopped him, holding something up in front of his face.
"Like what? Basketball hustler? This is yours, by the way. Your winnings."
He took the note and pocketed it. "Thanks. And I have other options."
"Don't tell me. Security guard. Armoured car driver. Or maybe you're planning on seeing what the other side of the fence looks like."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well, you've had enough experience of trying to catch the bad guys, maybe you've decided to try being one yourself."
His anger peaked, but he held it back. "Lanie, I really don't need this right now."
"Have you got something better to do?"
"Than listen to you haranguing me? Yeah." He went to move by but again she was somehow in his face.
"Have you spoken to Kevin?"
Esposito's eyes hardened. "No. And I don't intend to."
"He's your best friend."
"Not anymore."
"Your partner."
"Partners don't do that."
"They do if they care."
"Lanie –" He couldn't go further because suddenly she was kissing him, her hands cupping his face. He was so surprised he didn't move for the space of three heartbeats, then dropped his bag and wrapped his arms around her, crushing the blue silk.
It had been too long, and even longer before his mind engaged and he managed to grab enough of himself back from where it had gone to push her away enough so he could look into her face. "What is this?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
"I've had Jenny on the phone," she admitted. "Crying. Telling me how much this is hurting Kevin. She asked me to talk to you."
"So this ..." He stepped back. "This was a bribe?"
"No. I've wanted to do that for some time, but haven't had the courage." Her head came up, defiance in her dark eyes. "But right now this is showing you what you won't be getting unless you talk to Kevin."
"I wasn't getting it before."
"But now you know you would if you did, and you won't if you don't."
His head was starting to spin with the female logic of it all. "Lanie, I can't."
"Then just listen to him." A slight breeze caught her hair, pushing it across her lips. She flicked it away with one finger. "Please, Javi."
He glared at her. "He went behind my back. He went behind all our backs."
"And if he hadn't?"
"That's not the point."
"I think it is." The breeze blew again, lifting a tantalising waft of her fragrance to him. "He saved Kate's life for sure, and probably yours."
He had to remind himself that Lanie knew nothing about the connection between Montgomery's and Johanna Beckett's deaths. More than that, he had no real idea what Ryan had told Gates, but he knew in his heart that it wasn't likely to be anything that could damage their old captain's reputation. "He was my partner, Lanie. We were supposed to look out for each other."
"He thinks he did." Lanie touched his arm, running her fingers down to tangle in his. "Just listen to him. Please."
He didn't know what to do.
Alexis had gone to the Hamptons with her friends, promising to call often, not to get arrested, and to have a good time. She'd insisted her grandmother accompany her to the station, telling her father he had to stay behind.
"It's a dry run," she said, kissing him on the cheek. "If you can do this then I'll be that much more confident you can keep your promise."
He was going to try, too. Try to keep it, that is. At least she'd agreed to go to Columbia and not the other side of the country, or worse, the other side of the world. And he was going to try not to drop in, to embroil her in games of laser tag, to be the sensible dad for a change. He was pretty sure he wasn't going to be able to at least some of the time, but some was better than none.
He nodded. "I'll be fine," he assured her. "And it's not like I'll be on my own."
Kate had made herself scarce, staying in the study while the fond farewells were taking place.
"Darling, you'll miss your train," Martha reminded them both.
"There are others," Rick said.
"No." Alexis drew herself up to her full height. "If I can't do this now ..."
He understood. He pulled her close for a long moment, knowing it was going to have to keep him going for a long time, two weeks at least, and then kissed her forehead. "Go."
She grinned, her eyes shining. "I'll call when I get there."
"See that you do."
Then the door closed, and it felt like something had ended.
"It's just a holiday."
He turned to see Kate in the doorway to the study, leaning on the frame. "I know."
"You think you've lost her."
"She's growing up." He sighed heavily and walked to the sofa, falling into its soft embrace and laying his head on the back to stare into the ceiling.
"And she will always be your little girl." She sat down next to him.
"Is it like that with you and your dad?" he asked, turning his head enough so he could look into her face.
"Yes. I think it always is, with fathers and their daughters."
"I do try, you know. I mean, she's going to college in the fall, and she'll be up to the kind of things I used to do ..." He shuddered.
"And she's much more sensible than you ever were." She put her hand on his shoulder. "You told me so yourself."
"It doesn't help." He went back to studying the ceiling.
Kate glared at him for a long moment then went to make some lunch to cheer him up.
She was gone back to her apartment for her daily time-out when Martha returned.
"Well?" Rick asked, almost straining at the leash. "Did she get off okay?"
"Of course she did." Martha swept into the apartment. "Why wouldn't she?"
"Oh, I don't know. I thought maybe she'd change her mind and not want to leave her old dad."
"She's going to have a great time with her friends," Martha assured him. "They were already talking about having a party as soon as they get there."
"A party?" Rick's voice almost reached supersonic proportions until he realised. "Ha ha, very funny."
She patted his arm. "She's far too responsible to let anything bad happen."
"That's what Kate said."
"Then believe her if you won't believe me." Martha looked around the loft. "Where is she, by the way?"
"Gone back to her place to shower."
He sounded so despondent that his mother laughed. "Don't worry. There are going to be times in the next few years you'll wish she had a place to go to."
"Years?"
"You never know." She looked in her purse for something. "When did she leave?"
"About fifteen minutes ago."
"So it wasn't her."
"Wasn't who?" Something about her tone, or perhaps it was her distracted nature that alerted his personal radar. "Mother? Who?"
"I ..." She waved it away. "It's silly."
He moved so he was standing in front of her. "What? What's silly?"
"I just thought ..." She paused. "I thought someone was following me."
He glanced towards the windows. "When?"
"Just now. Not that I could see anyone." She shook her head. "It must be my overactive imagination."
"That's my department." He resisted the urge to go and look out. "Any idea who?"
"No. I told you, it was just a feeling."
He felt a pang of something. "Was it before you saw Alexis off?"
"No." She understood. "Oh, no, kiddo. This was on my way back. Nobody's following Alexis."
"Only she's beautiful, young –"
"And she's with almost a dozen friends. Besides, it was well after I was on my way back here."
He took a deep breath. "Probably one of your many admirers."
"Probably," she agreed, although how much was open to debate. She changed the subject. "Have you eaten?" she asked, looking at the clock.
"Mmn. Kate made us something."
"Good. Now be a good boy and go make your aged mother something for her lunch before she has to head to the studio to sort out her summer stock."
"Yes, Mother." Rick chuckled and headed for the kitchen.
A little over an hour later Martha unlocked the stage door and stepped into the gloom. She breathed in deeply, the special scent of a theatre reaching out and touching her, reviving her as always, a heady mix of sweat, make-up and glue with just a hint of desperation thrown in.
She been very lucky, she knew, in finding the right space for her acting school. She'd looked over a dozen sites, all of them with things to commend them, but not one had called out to her like this had. The owner was selling it remarkably cheaply, mainly because he couldn't get permission to tear it down and build a dozen condos, and his wife was going to get everything in the divorce if he didn't squirrel away some cash pretty quickly. At least, that's was Gloria Nantwich had said, and she should know, since she was sleeping with him.
Not that Martha cared. She'd taken one look at the place and knew she had to have it. Three floors, the top taken up with large rooms that could easily be converted into rehearsal spaces. The second floor was offices, and in her mind's eye she could see her name emblazoned on gold on one of the doors, while the others could be classrooms, a wardrobe department, make-up room ...
But it was the ground floor that sold it to her. Originally it had been a small cinema, showing Citizen Kane to an audience that numbered less than a hundred. Later the films were more of an earthly nature, their clientele almost exclusively men wearing raincoats. It became a bingo hall for a while, but had lain derelict for a few years until the neighbourhood started to pick up, and the time was right for an enterprising woman with some dollars in the bank and a dream in her heart to make it live again.
As Martha stood there for the first time, peering behind the dilapidated screen to see something that made her smile widely, she was already signing the paperwork in her head. It took more money than she had anticipated, but now the screen was gone, revealing the hopes of the original builders that their little cinema could be more than the sum of its parts, and occasionally put on real life dramatic art. A stage, with wings and tabs and footlights ready to roll out.
Better yet, it was all hers.
The entrance from the alley led directly into the backstage area, and as she walked into the darkness she could feel it welcoming her, like the embrace of an old lover caressing her skin once more. At the wall she paused, reaching out to flick the switch that should have bathed the stairs up to her office in a soft glow, but there was nothing. She toggled it up and down, then tutted.
"The bulb must have gone," she murmured to herself, seeing another in the long list of jobs that still needed doing. Then she paused.
Something in the corner of her eye was begging for her attention. She turned her head, wondering what it was, then she saw a faint glow under the door that led onto the stage itself, and a spurt of annoyance flared through her as she realised someone must have left a light on in the theatre.
"I don't have the money for this," she muttered, heading towards it. She threw the door open and strode through.
Shadows had gathered in the darkened theatre, seeming to cluster around a single spotlight that stabbed down to centre stage, illuminating a pile of clothing tossed carelessly into a heap.
Martha could feel her annoyance turning to anger. Not only the light, but now costumes were being left lying around. Someone was going to be chastised very firmly.
She walked across the bare stage, her heels clicking on the floor, and reached down to lift the clothes into her arms. In the microsecond before her hand touched the fabric she knew something was wrong, that it wasn't just costumes, but it was too late. She pulled, and the unexpected weight rolled over.
Martha screamed, the sound ringing through the small theatre and echoing back at her from all angles as she stared into the face of a man, his eyes wide, unseeing, dead.
