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Chapter Four
They are nearly identical, with the exception of the twenty-five year age difference. I had just dropped off Miss Isles to have brunch with her mother, Constance Isles, and was able to capture a view of her from inside the hotel restaurant. After almost a year of not seeing each other their double-cheek kiss was anything but warm and inviting.
If that were my mother she would be on the curb waiting to squeeze her arms around me and then yell at me and scold me for not keeping in touch. I felt myself naturally smile at this notion and decided it was time to give her a call.
When I left, I was quick to get out with promising to keep in touch. Normally this wouldn't have been the case and I'd still be in Chicago. My mother is the best at laying guilt trips to convince anyone to do one thing or another. She's definitely a pro. But under the circumstances in which I was leaving, I think she was a little bit more willing to let me go, get over the trauma I had just experienced, get away from the force, get a new surrounding, and just step away. I explained to her it might be a while before I call, but I promised to do so. I veered to the right off of Commonwealth Drive and headed to a little bagel shop I hadn't tried yet to get some coffee and breakfast and give my mom a call. It was ten o'clock our time on the East Coast which made it an hour earlier in Chicago. Maybe I'd wait a bit.
I walked into the busy morning madness of the breakfast spot and was assaulted by the smell of cinnamon rolls and coffee. My mouth watered and stomach growled. After about fifteen minutes of waiting I finally had my order and headed to the only empty high top table in the corner to quickly scarf this down before calling my mother then driving back to wait for Miss Isles.
I liked the Back Bay area a lot, parts of it really remind me of back home and I find myself comforted and feel a little less foreign in this area. I was finishing the last bit of my coffee as I strolled back to the car, meandering through the small crowd of students and people lining the sidewalk on this bustling Wednesday morning. A pair of well dressed men were gesturing wildly right off the side of the street. It was difficult to hear what they were arguing about, but it seemed to be over a parking spot.
The older looking of the two gave the younger one a light shove and I felt my impulses wanting to intervene immediately. I slowly strode over to them in hopes that their disagreement would die down before I needed to act. When I had come up just yards away a sharp bolt pierced the air and I recognized the sound all too well. "Gun!" I shouted just in time to see the younger of the two men falling to the ground with a hole of blood oozing from his chest. The shrieks and screaming had been muffled behind me as I rushed to the two. The older gentleman had paled and his hands were tossed in the air, shaking uncontrollably.
"We… we.. were.. we were just fighting about the spot… I didn't… I did not… I didn't do this… Oh my god… He's dead! Is he dead?!" He was on the verge of fainting while I yelled at him to sit on the curb as I pulled my phone from my pocket calling 911.
"I need an ambulance, Commonwealth just west of Kenmore near the entrance of Eastern Standard. A man mid to late thirties has a GSW to the chest. Shooter is no where near. The victim appears to be bleeding out."
Minutes had passed until a squad of sirens came flying toward us. I had removed my blazer and was using it to help stop the bleeding. The man I told to take a spot on the curb nearly jumped out of his skin when five sets of tires came to a screeching halt. I was quickly ushered off to the side to be checked out by the EMTs after they took notice of trace amounts of blood splattered on me from helping the victim.
While they took my blood pressure I checked my phone to see several messages from my employer. I took a deep breath and called her immediately.
"Miss Isles, please let me…." I was cut off.
"Miss Rizzoli, I have been trying to get a hold of you for the past ten minutes to no avail. Your promptness was delicately outlined on day one of your employment. Do you care to explain yourself?" Her voice was cold and hard to swallow. Before I could respond EMTs and officers were chatting around me with their radios constantly going off, making it difficult to form a sentence. "Miss Rizzoli… are you alright? Are you in danger?" A rushed and compassionate tone switched on in her voice.
I cleared my throat, "I was leaving Finagle a Bagel and watched a man get shot in the chest… I tried to stop the bleeding while I called for help… I am still on the scene waiting for officers and detectives who I know will wish to speak with me to get my statement and my eye-witness account," I peered around to see them zipping up the victim in black bag, "of the man that just died… I am so sorry I wasn't able to get a hold of you and was just able to check my phone now… I am so.."
"Oh my goodness, Jane… Please… Where are you right now?"
I gave her my location and she said she would by shortly. While sitting on the back of one of the ambulances I took in the scene around with a closer eye. There were things I was noticing now as my head snapped around to each direction of where exactly the man was standing when he was shot. My brain started to roll and process just as it used to - taking into account everything from the cracks in the sidewalks to the lights hanging from poles.
"Ma'am," an older man in a gray suit with equally graying hair approached me along with a younger black man in a nice blue suit. They held out their badges, "I'm Detective Korsak and this is my partner Detective Frost," he paused to let me take in their titles and commit them to memory, "do you mind if we ask you a few questions regarding this incident?"
"No not at all. My name is Jane Rizzoli, I was approaching the victim and that man," I pointed to him on the curb still shaking, "while they were in a disagreement about a parking spot. He shoved the victim but that was as violent as he got. He had nothing to do with this, just wrong place, wrong time. I saw it all. This was premeditated by someone else, and they must have been pretty far away… here look," I pointed to six sniper's ribbons along the street, "you see what those are?"
Both detectives nodded. "You seem to know more than you're letting on Miss Rizzoli," the detective called Frost started in on me with just enough accusation in his tone.
"Chicago PD, Homicide… Detective Rizzoli…. Formerly…"
"Jane?" A voice from beyond the caution tape called to me. "Jane?"
I moved between the two men and lifted the tape for her, "Miss Isles, I am fine."
She inspected me closely - checking my hands, avoiding any contact with my scars, rolling my sleeves to see if the blood on them belonged to me, pulling the collar to my shirt back and checking my pulse.
"Detective Rizzoli," the older man looked between Miss Isles and I while her eyes went wide at the use of my name.
"I'm not a detective anymore." I kept my eyes pinned on my employer.
"Once a detective, always a detective." He slid his business card in my line of sight, "give me a call," he slowly turned away with his partner in tow.
"Jane?"
"Maura, I'm okay, I promise. It's all from the victim." I took a deep breath. "How did you get you here?"
"I walked here, of course. Nearly ran."
I looked down at her shoe choice with a grin, "in those?!"
She mimicked the grin on my face until it fell into a fearful look, "I was really worried…"
"Let me drive you home."
"Are you okay to drive, Miss Rizzoli?"
"Miss Isles, I can assure you I am better off driving than you are." I smirked.
A ghost of smile graced her features as we turned to leave. The detectives caught my retreating form with a nod in my direction.
