Chapter 7

Jeannie's morning had not gone terribly well. As the first stop, she decided to hit the hardware store where her father wanted her to buy a particular gasket for the kitchen sink. The sales assistant questioned whether she had the right gasket as he didn't think it would fit. In a rather condescending tone, the assistant suggested she come back with her father and allow him to select the correct hardware. Jeannie left the store quite aggravated.

Her next stop was at the bank. While the transaction itself went well, the line was longer than she anticipated - far surpassing the ten minutes she allotted for parking. When she returned to her car, she found a parking ticket tucked under her windshield wiper. Annoyed, she snatched the document from under the wiper and stuffed it in the glove compartment, where it lay comfortably next to another parking ticket she had received the last time she was home.

What next? she figured as she drove to the department store.

On Union Street

Norm parked his car behind his colleague's Porsche. The sight of the car often set Norm's mind to wonder how the young man was able to afford such luxury. Not on my salary, at least, Norm muttered to himself. I barely have enough to take the ladies out in my old clunker. He drew a deep sigh and then turned to gaze to Steve's apartment door. Well, dear friend, Uncle Norm is here to check on you and make sure you are okay. He chuckled as he exited his car.

At the top of the steps in front of Steve's door, Norm was surprised to find a bouquet of flowers. "Get well, Steve!" read the card. "From the girls in Records", he continued. Hmmph.

Just as Norm was about to knock on Steve's door, a voice from behind stopped him.

"I wouldn't do that," the voice cautioned. "He's sick."

Norm turned to face Anderson, Steve's neighbor and friend.

"I'm Anderson, Steve's neighbor and friend," he began as he extended his hand to shake Norm's. Anderson was a tall good looking young man who could compete with Steve in the looks and charm department. Blonde hair and blue eyed, he smiled warmly at the Armenian detective.

"Norm Hassejian, Detective. I work with Steve."

"Well, Norm Hassejian, Detective. My neighbor is quite under the weather - a miserable sort right now. We thought it was something he ate, but it turns out it's more than that. Probably viral."

At that moment, a hacking cough could be heard through the door.

"Sounds awful, doesn't it?" Anderson asked.

"Er, huh, yeah. I guess. Is he all right in there?" Norm asked as another hacking cough could be heard.

"I believe so. I can hear him through the walls. It's when the hacking stops I'll be worried," Anderson joked.

"Has he been to the doctor?" Norm asked, suspicion still nagging the detective.

"I believe he called today and with it being viral, he just needs to toughen it out," Anderson commented. "Look, Detective, I don't think Steve wants to spread his germs. Is there a message I can leave him or anything I can do?"

Norm shook his head. "Nah, I was just in the neighborhood and knew the kid was out sick. Just wanted to see if he needed anything."

Anderson gushed, "Oh, how lucky he is to have kind coworkers. I wish my colleagues were that considerate."

"Oh, yeah?" Norm commented. "Where do you work?"

"TV station - channel 2." Anderson announced.

"You look like you could be an anchor," Norm said as he took in Anderson's good looks.

"One day perhaps!" Anderson cast a quick glance at his watch, hoping that Norm would take the hint. "Look Norm, it's nice meeting you. I'll tell Steve when I see him that you stopped by."

"Sure," Norm answered. "What about these flowers?" he asked as he stepped away and then turned.

"Oh, I can take those. I can give them a nice home until Steve can receive visitors," Anderson answered as he picked up the bouquet.

When it came to Anderson, Norm was unsure of what hit him. "Okay, have a good day," he said as he departed down the stairs, hearing another hacking cough one last time coming from Steve's apartment. He turned around, "Are you sure...?"

"Believe me, he'll be fine," Anderson replied in a convincing tone.

Anderson turned around with flowers in hand and reentered his apartment. Keller, you owe me one. He then chuckled when he thought of the looping tape that had been playing for the last hour - one that he had set up the night before when Steve had told him of his plan for the next day. At least my education in media productions didn't go wasted..."


At the Legion of Honor

"Oh, look at this," Irene exclaimed. "An outdoors exhibit only its indoors. One gallery has seascapes, the next has mountains."

"And there's another with forest scenes and still another with the South Pacific," Steve commented.

"Gaugan?" Irene asked.

"That would be the one and with bonus island girls."

"Is that all you ever think about, Steve?" Irene teased her girl-crazy friend.

Steve giggled. "I think they've got a Monet or two in here as well as Van Gogh and sunflowers," he said as he straightened up a bit and sought to portray decorum matching their location. "What do you think Daniel?

Still not knowing why he was there at that very moment, Dan grunted, "Yeah, I guess."


Steve and Irene scurried from one gallery to another, checking the paintings and commenting on many of them. They read gallery comments next to each work of art and then took time to render their own opinions. It was a fun and invigorating exercise. "It's been so long since I've done this! Steve, thanks for coming up with this idea," Irene said.

"Sometimes you just need to get away. It's good for the soul," Steve said as he looked around. "Did we lose Dan?"

"Last I saw him, he was in the woods gallery," Irene answered.

Steve nodded. "How do you think it's going?" he asked.

"For Dan? I think it was very good to get him out. Just how far out of his shell you will get him is quite another matter," Irene answered honestly.

"Let's circle back and see if we can find him."


Moments later, they found Dan staring at "The Swing", a mid-18th century painting by Jean-Honore' Fraganard. The painting depicted a beautifully dressed young woman swinging in the woods with a light shining on her that made her look like an angel. Hidden in the bushes was a young man, drinking in her beauty.

Steve and Irene watched as Dan stood transplanted in a spot about five feet in front of the painting. Dan didn't move and didn't seem to mind the other visitors who walked around him as they made their way through the gallery.

Minutes passed by as Dan continued to look at "The Swing", while Steve and Irene watched.

"Okay," Steve observed. "This isn't about the shooting or the war," he said as Irene looked at him in surprise. "It's about a chick!"