A Walk in Ashes
Gold deposits Miss French with the talkative Medical Examiner and sets off to search her mountain cabin. He is there for only a short time when Killian Jones arrives and retrieves a gun that could very well be the murder weapon. Killian divulges that he took Lacey to Belle's apartment, that Lacey was having problems with her boyfriend and he and Belle were trying to help her. He was stunned by the murder and just left the apartment (rather than calling the police). Gold confiscates the gun and warns Killian not to leave town.
Meanwhile, Belle and Emma talk about Lieutenant Gold. Emma shares that he began as a deep undercover officer and his hours and the stress of the job contributed to his marriage breaking up and eventually to the loss of his son (through a Social Services investigation). Emma tells Belle that the man is a brilliant detective, but was personally deeply hurt by the loss of his son. Emma also confesses that she had a little crush on him but has since moved on and is now dating his son (who has refused overtures to reconcile). Emma points out that it is very evident that Belle is interested in the man.
Truth
Chapter 11
It was late afternoon when Gold drove back by his house. He checked on the kitten, opening the door to the bathroom to be greeted by piles and shreds of toilet paper. The kitten was snuggled up in her blanket and raised her head to blink at him when he came in.
"Don't be looking all innocent," he knelt down to gentle scold the kitten. "You've been spending your time unraveling the paper off the spindle, haven't you?"
The kitten rubbed against his hand and purred. She did not seem the least bit remorseful.
"Yeah, I'm sure you're lonely. I'll be finishing with this case soon and see about giving you more company and more run of the house," he promised her.
The kitten mewed and he patted her again. "I'll buy you some cat toys and maybe build you one of those carpeted cat trees to climb on," he told her, assuaging his guilt for having to abandon the little thing. He fed her again and sat and petted her for a while. Then he picked up Miss French's clothes, delicate undies included, out of the dryer and stuffed them into her overnight bag, all of which he threw into the back area in his crew cab. He packed himself a bag in preparation to stay overnight and then went on to the police lab to drop off the gun for their forensic people to go over it. It was close to five by the time he made it back in to pick up Miss French.
He found Miss French and Emma sitting in the autopsy room, drinking Pepsis and eating Funyuns from the snack machine.
"Yo, I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to make it back here," Emma told him. "We were making supper plans. You almost got a sticky note on the lab door telling you where we were."
"Where'd you decide?" he asked the women.
"You know me," Emma told him. "You introduced me to the place. Grill 51 is always my first choice," naming one of Gold's favorite haunts. "What are your plans for Belle here? She can't keep hiding out in your house and I'm sure she'll tell you that while today's been fun, fun, fun, after one day in the coroner's office, not much else to see – well, that you'd want to see."
"Emma's been perfectly lovely, Lieutenant. But I do want to go back to my own place," Miss French said softly.
"Yeah, we can probably do that tonight. At this point, I'm not sure there's much to be gained by keeping your return a secret. I do want to wait until it gets dark though. How about I get Emma to pick us up a couple of burgers and we hunker down at her place until about ten or so?"
Emma shrugged, "Fine with me. I can put up with Belle 'til ten. Now, as for you. . . you're a pain in the ass but I guess I'll tough it out."
Gold and Miss French rode out to Emma's house which was on the north side of Asheville, nearer to Weaverville. They had to drive up one of the mountain roads, a windy affair and then into an older tract development and down a paved one-lane driveway to get to her place. They pulled in and waited for Emma who was swinging by the restaurant to get their food.
"I like Emma. She's got a terrific sense of humor but I guess that helps her do her job. I can't imagine cutting into bodies all day," Miss French told him.
"Swan's amazing," Gold admitted. "She's the best I've ever worked with. She wants to find out what happened to the person, what killed them, how they died. It's invaluable information she gives us before we go to court. She's bailed us out so many times, we started calling her the 'The Savior.'"
"She said you gave her that name," Miss French told him and watched him shrug.
"Maybe," he admitted.
"Well, she thinks you're pretty fine yourself," Miss French began. "But . . ."
"She also thinks I'm an arrogant jerk," he finished for her.
"Pretty much words along those lines," Miss French agreed. "She spoke very highly of your skills as a detective. She doesn't think that anybody else in the department comes close to you. She says you're like a magician when it comes to solving these difficult cases."
"Really?" Gold was feeling pretty good hearing this about himself.
"Of course, she also said that you can't get along with anybody. That quite a few people owe you favors so they avoid you like the plague. But any time people get stymied they all troop over in a procession to see you."
"Yeah, I'd have to agree with that. I'm not a particularly easy man to be around. I have a low tolerance for fools and a fundamental disrespect for authority," he told Miss French.
"But you're patient," Miss French told him.
"Is that what Emma told you?" he asked.
"No, I figured that out for myself," she said. "You handle all these difficult cases and you have to keep working to get the evidence, unravel things and then tie it all together. To do all that as well as you do it, you must be patient."
"Perhaps," he hadn't thought of himself in those terms, but considered what she'd said. He had waited for so much – convictions for some of the most clever criminals, appreciation from his co-workers and he was still waiting for some things – his son - and perhaps, maybe . . . there was still time for it to happen, a life partner he could love and trust.
They saw lights and realized that it was Emma catching up with them. She pulled her yellow Volkswagen into her garage and Miss French and Gold followed her into her house.
Emma glanced out at Gold's truck. "Jeez, you are driving this fine woman around in that fugly truck of yours?"
"I think it's a cute truck," Belle told her. "It looks like my sweet little car's kick-ass boyfriend."
"Yeah, with a lot of extra mileage and a beat up appearance," Emma snorted.
Miss French smiled looking at Gold while she spoke, "You mean it has experience and an air of distinctiveness?"
Gold had to smirk. He recognized that Miss French had just handed him a compliment. Nice.
Emma rolled her eyes and made a gagging sound.
Her house was a small red commons brick affair with a black roof. The windows were trimmed with black shutters. They entered into Emma's kitchen.
It had old fashioned avocado green appliances with stainless steel accents in the sink and a microwave. Emma picked up the mail that was stacked up on her kitchen table and put it on a counter. There were already two chairs at the little dinette table. Emma disappeared into the darkened house to return with a fold-up metal chair which she added to the table. She pulled down paper plates and paper napkins all around. She took down three glasses, added ice from a freezer ice bin and pulled a liter of Pepsi off the shelf to pour them all drinks.
"Some more of my lab work should be in tomorrow. I'll give you a call if there's anything special on it," Emma promised Gold while chowing down on her burger.
"Thanks. I've got you on speed dial if anything else turns up or . . . if I have a question for you," Gold told her.
Belle thanked Emma for her hospitality and encouraged her to come by Prêt á Porter. "I'll see about getting you a discount. You'll have to ask for me. I'm usually upstairs working on designs," Belle told her.
"Sure. I'll pop by some time," Emma told her.
After their late supper and some informal chit chat at Emma's (carefully avoiding the taboo topic of Gold's son), Gold drove Miss French back to her apartment. It was dark. Gold handed her the hooded jacket she had worn during the day in Emma's refrigerated office. She put it on while still in the truck and turned to him. He pulled up the hood, pushing her hair inside the hood.
Their eyes met and there was a brief moment, a moment when his hand, pushing her hair back had rested on her cheek, a moment when it seemed like he might be caressing her instead of just helping her into a disguise. He held his hand still against her and she didn't pull back. Neither said anything, his brown eyes locking with her blue ones. It was a long moment. Slowly, Gold lowered his hand.
"Not much of a disguise, but better than nothing," he muttered to himself. He grabbed her weekend bag and his own small bag and then got her into the building and up the stairs to her apartment without meeting anyone.
"I'm sleeping out here," he told her, motioning towards the couch.
"Do you think that's necessary?" she asked him.
"Someone tried to kill you Miss French. That person is still on the loose. Yes, I think it's necessary."
"Are we sure they were trying to kill me?" Miss French asked him. "I mean, or were they trying to kill Lacey?"
"I'd wondered about that but I'm pretty sure they were coming after you. No one else knew that Lacey would be here. Unless you or Jones is guilty?"
"Oh," Miss French hadn't thought of that. "Well, all right then." She started back to her bedroom," Let me change into some of my own clothes out of these sweats. Do you need anything? I see you've brought your own bag."
"Yeah, I brought some shaving gear, a toothbrush and a change of clothes."
"How many days do you expect to be here?"
"I don't know. I've got to feed the kitten or get someone out to the house to do that some time tomorrow. We'll start letting people know tomorrow that you're alive. We might have some fireworks then."
Miss French nodded and went into her bedroom. When she came out, she had changed into some slinky black silk pajama pants and a matching silk running bra-top. The little outfit showed off her firm stomach and curvy figure. She watched him and saw that he had already dressed for bed. He had pulled on some black cotton sleep pants and kept on his tee-shirt from that day. He already had stubble from his beard showing up. He had put on some little brass-framed glasses and was reviewing his information in his little notebook.
"Wine or beer?" she called to him from the kitchen.
"Beer, if you have it." He looked back at his notebook, "I still can't find a motive for anyone to want to kill you," he told her glancing up. He looked back down but then, slowly, looked up again. "Damn, you're a beautiful woman, Miss French." Then, as if he realized what he had said this out loud, he apologized, "I'm sorry, that's an inappropriate thing for me to say." He cleared his throat and looked back down at his notebook.
Miss French came and sat next to him, sitting close enough that she was almost touching him. She handed him his beer.
"I'm not offended, Lieutenant Gold. I happen to think that you're a very attractive man," she had curled up on the sofa and took a sip of her wine.
"Well," he snapped his notebook shut. "That settles that. We get you an eye appointment tomorrow, first thing."
She laughed, a soft laugh. "You really are fine looking. That anyone would say that makes you uncomfortable, doesn't it?"
"I've . . . uh . . . not had a happy history around women, Miss French. And I absolutely believe that you are out of my league."
"What league would you say I was in?" she asked curiously.
"You're the kind of woman who marries a man who can treat her like a princess, take care of her, buy her whatever she wants, make sure that she'll never have a day in her life when she lacks for anything."
Miss French took another sip of her wine and then set it on the table in front of her. "Do you know why I was going to marry Killian?" she asked him.
"I assumed you were in love," he answered. He knew more, he had read it in her white leather journal.
"No." She leaned back and picked her wine glass back up. "I'm nearing thirty and I wasn't married. I had begun to think I just wasn't going to ever fall in love, that there just wasn't a special someone out there for me. I was about to settle on someone just because I didn't want to be alone."
"Those aren't good reasons to get married," he told her softly.
"No, they aren't. It took me a while but I finally realized that." She put her hand on his knee. "I don't want a man who will take care of me, buy me whatever I want and give me things. I want a man who will love me, with all his heart, be honest with me, and who will respect me."
"Do you think he's out there?" he asked her not shifting away from her hand on his knee.
"I had lost hope, but I think I'm beginning to get it back," she told him and finished her wine. She leaned forward to give him a gentle kiss on the cheek. "It's late. I'm going to bed. Thank you."
Gold missed her hand on his knee. It was super-heated where her palm had lain on him. He put one of his hands over the spot. And then he raised his other hand to his cheek. She had kissed him. This perfect, perfectly beautiful, kind woman had kissed him.
He had wanted to grab her shoulders and kiss her back, not gently but with all the feelings he had within him. He wanted to feel her kissing him back and hear the little whimpery sounds he thought she would make when passion started to bloom and he wanted to feel her melt under his touch and he wanted to feel her yield to him, to shake and shudder in his arms as she climaxed under his fingers or the force of his body as he drove into her.
And he so needed to get a grip on himself.
He finished his beer.
Then he turned off the lights and turned in.
It was not even midnight when he abruptly woke. Something was moving around in the room. Keeping still, he flickered one eye open. Whatever it was, was small. He watched and when the thing had its back to him, he dove from the sofa, taking it to the floor.
There was a yelp and squirming and thrashing before he subdued it.
"Miss French!" he was startled to realize who it was. He was lying on top of her.
"I'm sorry. I . . . I got scared," she managed to gasp out.
He slowly shifted his weight off of her and helped her sit up.
"I'm not usually a nervous person," her voice was a bit ragged and he helped her over to the sofa to sit. "But when I started thinking about it . . . what happened here. . . " she was breathing shallowly.
He reached for her and put his arms around her. She was trembling and in the minimal light streaming in from the street lamps he could tell she had been crying. "You wouldn't be normal if it didn't bother you, Miss French." He very nearly kissed her forehead.
"Will you call me Belle?" she asked him leaning into him.
"All right . . . Belle," he responded. Dangerous ground
She hesitated. "Would you do something for me?"
"If I can."
"I . . . would you . . . come back to my bedroom and stay with me?"
It was his turn to hesitate. He knew she wasn't asking for sex. She just needed to be comforted, to have someone else close by.
He'd seen this before. Someone breaks into an apartment. Someone kills someone in a house. Suddenly the place doesn't feel the same. It doesn't feel safe.
"Please?" she asked him, her eyes wide.
He could do it. It would hurt, but he could do it.
Gold insisted he lay on the outside of the covers while Miss French, eh, Belle lay under the covers. He initially felt rather awkward but allowed her to snuggle next to him, spooning with her luscious backside connecting to his groin. He lay awake uncomfortably next to her for a while, but eventually drifted off.
When he woke, he was on his side and she had turned onto her back and had her face lolled to one side and buried in his chest. His hand was resting comfortably on one of her full breasts. His thumb was automatically brushing against the hardened nipple, tracing little circles around it. When he realized what he was doing he momentarily froze but then carefully lifted his hand up. She whimpered and shifted her body, lifting her chest to him as if . . . as if she was welcoming his caress.
He checked the time. Six. Soon enough.
He vaulted up and grabbed a shower, a cold shower. He redressed, this time forgoing his usual three-piece suit, supplanting them with dark jeans and a fresh black tee-shirt. He wore his gun in a shoulder holster to have it at the ready.
Belle missed him soon after he had gotten up, the absence of his warm body and delicious spicy smell waking her. She'd been having a very pleasant dream – a very gentle man had been caressing her. She wondered if it had all been a dream.
She arose soon after he got out of the shower and came out dressed in a short, bright blue full skirt with a form fitting white top. She'd put on some high wedges with blue and white striped ties.
Gold swallowed hard when he saw her. She really had nice legs - and he couldn't stop the spark of wayward imagination when he pictured them wrapped around his hips as he . . . No. He needed to stop that.
"Now, I always thought a man with barbeque equipment or a chainsaw could be macho sexy. Had never considered how testosterone driven a man with a shoulder holster could be. You look nice," she told him. "Different look for you, but I like it."
"You look . . . beautiful," he couldn't stop himself.
"Aren't you the sweetest? When can I start calling my friends?" she asked him.
"Are they up at this hour?" he glanced at his watch, almost eight o'clock.
Belle shook her head, "Probably not."
It was then they heard someone turning a key in the lock. Gold pushed Belle behind him and unbuttoned his holster to get his gun. A familiar figure came through the door. It was Ms. Potts.
Ms. Potts came in, going to the hall closet to put her things in. She turned and . . . screamed, nearly dropping to her knees.
Belle was on her in a minute, sharing comforting words, "It's all right, Bessie. It's all right, Bessie."
"You're alive!" Ms. Potts managed to gasp out.
"It's all been a terrible mistake, Bessie," Belle explained. "I'm not a ghost. I'm really here and really alive."
"But I found you! You were dead!" Ms. Potts protested.
"It was Lacey Redfern's body you found," explained Gold.
"Why don't you fix us some eggs and coffee. You know no one can make eggs as well as you," Belle was still talking softly to the distraught housekeeper.
"But I . . . I . . . saw you with my own eyes. I don't understand."
"Ms. Potts you ever heard a ghost ask for eggs and coffee?" Belle asked her.
"No ma'am," Ms. Potts was wiping the tears away.
"You'll be all right, Bessie." Belle and Gold watched the woman amble off to the kitchen. "Somebody should have warned her. Poor dear," and Belle glowered at him.
Gold watched the housekeeper as she disappeared into the kitchen. "You may as well know, I've asked Regina Mills to come here this morning."
"Did you tell her?" Belle asked.
"No," Gold answered.
"But why not? Surprising these people with my being alive is brutal," Belle protested.
"I'm not doing it for fun," Gold explained. He sat down in the dining area and scrutinized Belle. "Why did you break your word and make a phone call to Killian Jones that first night?
"I didn't give you my word. I said I understood. Know this about me, I never have been and I never will be bound by anything . . . . I do or don't do things of my own free will. I decide my fate." Belle was defiant.
Gold nearly smiled. He continued, "Did you think Lacey Redfern was in love with your Mr. Jones? You'd met with her and talked with her. What did she tell you?"
"I've already told you that I knew he wasn't in love with her. . . and she wasn't in love with him. They were old friends."
Gold was about to respond when his cell phone rang. It was Emma.
"Yeah? . . . No, I didn't check that page . . . What do you mean, you figured? . . . really? . . . I mean are you absolutely sure? . . . . No, I don't mean to impugn your skills, Swan. Just wanted to be absolutely sure. . . Thanks."
He hung up and pulled out his notebook to write something in it.
There was a knock at the door. Gold turned to Belle, "Just sit still here. And don't give me any of that deciding your own fate crap," he steered her onto one of the dining room chairs, out of the immediate line of sight from the front door.
Gold answered the door. It was Killian Jones.
"Hello Lieutenant," Jones greeted him cheerily but, looking around Belle's apartment, soon spotted her. He went over to her and kissed her on her cheek. "Morning, my darling."
Belle smiled up at him, "Hello, dear." She pulled him back down for a second kiss, this one on the lips.
"Ah, my dear, thank you," Jones told her.
"Oh, jeez, is it on again?" Gold asked. Swan must have relaxed her vigilance and allowed Belle to get to a phone. She and Jones must have hatched something.
"Do I need to get a permit from the police department to kiss my fiancée good morning?" Jones asked him.
"Fiancée?" Gold swung on Belle, "Let me get this straight. So now you are planning on marrying him? What did he say to make you change your mind?" Gold was quickly reaching some conclusions. They must have connected at some point yesterday and hatched a scheme. He was going to kick Swan's perky little ass for allowing Belle to get to a phone.
Who was protecting whom? Were they both in it together?
Jones availed himself of the opportunity," Speaking of changing one's mind, Mr. Gold, I have just come from my lawyer."
Gold grimaced, "Is that right? Did you see Cora? Did she tell you how much time you'll get off for good behavior?"
"No," Jones began, "but she told me that anything I may have said yesterday afternoon was said under duress and without having had my rights read to me. It can't be used against me. Besides," he added, "none of it was true."
Gold didn't drop it, "Smart lawyer you've got. Maybe she told you how that whiskey got up here Friday night after you'd bought it at Leroy's. Maybe it was the lawyer who brought Lacey Redfern up here. Maybe . . ." there was a knock on the door and it opened.
Regina entered, "Well, Gold, have you thought over the deal I suggested?" She saw Belle and her body sagged against the wall.
"Ms. Mills?!" Gold was at her side, his weak leg prohibiting him from picking her up. Killian came to his rescue and helped hold Regina up. Belle came over also.
"We better take her into the bedroom," she said.
"What?" Regina managed to gasp out, reaching out to touch Belle.
"Don't try to say anything, dear," Belle comforted her. "Just be quiet." Belle helped her to lie on the bed. When she left the room she turned on Gold, "I think this is carrying things too far! Your methods are vicious! There ought to be a law against it!"
Gold shrugged, "How is she feeling now?
"It's been a terrible shock. Poor darling." Belle was shaking her head.
"Don't tell me you're in love with her too?" Gold had to ask.
Killian intervened, "Look here, fella. You're not to talk that way to Miss French."
"Oh shut up!" Gold glared at him and then looked back at Belle, "Why do you cover up for a guy like him?"
"Don't answer him, Belle," Killian spoke up.
"What story did he tell you yesterday?" Gold was close to cornering Belle, his anger coming off of him in waves.
"Don't answer him. Let him talk to our lawyer," Killian advised her.
"Our lawyer?" Gold repeated the phrase. "So now you're covering up for each other?"
Killian felt he had the advantage, "Look at him, Belle. He's beginning to crack up. He'd use anything to make an arrest just so he can be a big shot in the headlines."
Gold was angry, "I've got enough on you to arrest you right now."
Thanks so much to my faithful (and a few new ones) reviewers: kagi-chan2. Guest (smile), jewel415, cynicsquest, Wondermorena, Grace5231973, juju0268, Robin4 , MyraValhallah, deweymay, Aletta-Feather (chapters 9 & 10),), OneMagician, onlyinyourdreams77, Erik'sTrueAngel, The Prince's Phoenix , orthankg1, and Chauchi
Special thanks to RaFire who just started reading the story and reviewed each and every chapter, 1 through 10 (whew).
And thanks to cynicsquest for reminding me that kittens will play with toilet paper spindles.
NEXT: Belle's friends gather to welcome her back
Gold makes a move
Belle lets him
