"You and I need to talk," Jo told Mike.
"Yeah. I know," Mike replied.
"I'm glad you both agree." Lt. Reece stood near their desks. "My office," she quietly instructed them, adding, "Dr. Morgan and Lucas will be joining us."
vvvv
Henry eyed the additional paperwork in the wooden inbox on his desk; he hadn't lied about that. And, of course, it was important but he realized that it really could wait. Besides, his mind just wasn't focused on it right now. His brow knitted as he recalled some of the puzzling statements Lucas had made since morning up until a few moments ago. In addition, he was sure that Lucas' Gone to a better place mini-eulogy had caused Mike to cringe and anger to fleetingly cloud his face as his eyes had shot daggers at Lucas. Why? he wondered.
And Lieutenant Reece having given him an uncharacteristically stilted greeting that morning. Not that her usual greetings had been particularly warm (more professional and cordial). But there was something in her eyes that hadn't been there before; as if she'd been... considering something about him. At the time, he'd dismissed her odd behaviour as simply being a part of everyone else's startruck silliness. But, no, the Lieutenant could never be described as acting silly. What, he pondered, was on her mind? What was she hiding? The irony was not lost on the Immortal ME in that he felt this must be a little like what others went through when searching for reasons behind his own evasive responses and guarded behaviour. Understandably, a bit annoying, he had to admit.
A glance at the time on his desk phone's display was part of an effort to train himself to utilize some of the simpler technology around him but he quickly succumbed to checking the time on his pocket watch, realizing that that was going to be a hard habit to break. Placing the watch back into his vest pocket, he at least realized that he now referred to it as a vest instead of a waist coat. Realizing that both he and Lucas had less than an hour before their 3 o'clock meeting in Lt. Reece's office, he set to work completing the additional paperwork with a ballpoint pen. After a thought, he placed the fancy, gold-plated inkpen back into its holder on the deskset and dove into the paperwork with the antiquated writing tools, quillpen and inkwell, he was more accustomed to using. No need to rush this self-retraining, he told himself. There's always tomorrow. Yes, he told himself, he had a forever of tomorrows.
vvvv
"Please. Be seated," Lt. Reece told Jo and Mike, motioning to the sofa at the back of her office. They awkwardly seated themselves but kept their eyes on her as she grabbed one of the chairs that usually faced her desk, and sat down in it. She leaned forward, her hands clasped together in her lap, and smiled at Jo. She then exchanged a knowing look with Mike and they both took in and released a deep breath at the same time.
The exchange was not lost on Jo. Her detective's radar told her that something was up with her two colleagues.
"Martinez," Reece began, then smiled, softening her tone. "Jo. How was your London trip?"
Jo was somewhat surprised at her boss' question. She'd assumed that this meeting was going to be work-related but, hmmm, they'd hardly ever sat on that sofa in Reece's office. "Um, the flight was a bit of a challenge for me," she replied with a nervous laugh. "First time for me, you know, but everything else was very nice."
Reece nodded, tilting her head. "Learn anything new while you were over there?"
A frown fought to overtake her features as she wondered where this line of questioning - line of questioning? - was going. She felt oddly on the hot seat right now. "Oh, just the normal new stuff when you visit a foreign country for the first time," she smiled her reply.
"How about before you left?" Reece pushed on.
"I don't ... know what you mean," Jo replied, still fighting against a frown of worry.
Reece looked down at her clasped hands then back up at Jo. "Did you learn anything new about our Dr. Morgan?"
It was the way she'd said our that set her on edge. "I still don't," she laughed nervously, "know what you mean?" She swallowed, not intending for it to have come out as a question but her nerves were beginning to jangle now.
"You checked out a certain box from the Evidence Lockup a couple of weeks before you left on your trip. The same box that Mike and I checked out, independently of each other, later on. And I understand that Lucas Wahl also checked it out. It seems that we all had questions; most likely, some of the same questions about our secretive ME and that subway crash. Did a certain set of images on the VHS tape in that box shed more light on his life than you bargained for?"
Yes, that and what he'd shared with her earlier about his long life, she admitted to herself. Jo sat up a bit straighter, her large, brown, almond-shaped eyes trained on the Lieutenant but studying Mike in her peripheral vision. "Like what?" she managed, going for nonchalant.
Reece explained to her about the images of Henry boarding the now infamous subway car that had crashed three years ago, killing all 15 people aboard, and no image of him exiting the train before that. The Lieutenant paused but kept her gaze trained on Jo. She didn't want to come off as going for the jugular, which she wasn't, but felt the need to get to the point. "Henry was the 16th but uncounted victim, wasn't he?"
Jo's breathing halted momentarily at those words, resuming in shudders. She wanted to protest but didn't know how to respond. Wasn't sure if she even should respond. Henry had been right when he said he suspected they were hiding something. She hadn't been prepared for it to be this, though. That they had figured it out about him and his condition. But why was she being confronted with their findings instead of him? She was painfully aware that she might be forced to make a choice as to where her loyalty lay. Henry, of course, would win hands down - he and Abe. A fierceness rose in her chest, enlivening every instinct in her to protect him and his son. However, still unsure of what to say, she remained silent and continued to listen.
"We're quite sure that Dr. Morgan somehow," Reece paused, shaking her head, "returned to life only minutes later, several miles away in the East River," she continued. The fact that the poor man had then been arrested and jailed overnight for public nudity was like having had insult added to injury, she sadly realized. But there was little solace to be found in knowing that nobody even imagined back then that he had been murdered only minutes before and returned to life in the frigid waters.
"I can only speak for myself when I say that my curiosity was piqued by the TV show," she confessed. "But I'm sure that both Mike's and Lucas' reasons for further investigating the subway crash case couldn't have been much different."
She tilted her head and asked, "What are you thinking, Detective? We know that you also checked out the same box from the Evidence Room. You had to have reached the same conclusions before we did."
Jo lowered her eyes but remained silent. Reece looked at Mike, who cleared his throat and placed his hand on Jo's shoulder.
"Jo, we all think that the Doc is a good guy," he reassured her. "We don't understand all this but just wanna let him ... and you know that ... that ... we're all here for ya," Mike told her in all sincerity. "We're here for ya both," he reiterated.
His words, well-intentioned as they were, still alarmed her. Looking desperately from one to the other, then at the closed door, she wished she could just jump up and run out of there. Although they were telling her that Henry's secret would be safeguarded by them, she couldn't help but wonder if the Feds had aslo gotten wind of Henry through this darn TV show as he feared might happen? Was he going to be deported - or worse - imprisoned in some secret government location and relentlessly experimented on in order to unlock the secret of his immortality? She now had only one thought: to get to Henry. Quick. She suddenly rose and walked quickly to the door.
"I've - I'm sorry, I've - got to get out of here," she told them. She had to get to Henry. Worried, Reece and Mike rose up and followed after her, voicing their concerns for her in unison.
"I've just got to get out of here," she told them again. Get to Henry. Warn him. Her heart was pounding in her ears as she opened the door and found herself face-to-face with Henry and Lucas on the other side of the door. The room spun and her legs gave way before the darkness overtook her.
Jo collapsed into Henry's unexpecting arms. He picked her up and carried her over to the leather sofa at the back of Reece's office, Mike clearing a path for them by moving the chairs aside. Henry gently laid her down on the sofa. When she didn't respond to him calling her name, he looked over his shoulder at Lucas and instructed him to bring the Spirit of Hartshorn from the medicine chest.
"Spirit ... uh ... ?" Lucas asked, confused.
Henry closed his eyes, regretting his mistake in having used the unfamiliar term with them. But it had been a familiar term during the Victorian era.
"He means smelling salts, Lucas," Mike clarified. "Told ya," he explained in response to everyone's surprised looks. "I watch a lot of History Channel."
"Back in a sec, Doc," Lucas said and hurriedly left to retrieve them.
Henry turned his attention back to Jo. Soon he felt a hand pat on his right shoulder and he looked over to find the Lieutenant holding a paper cup of water out to him. He looked up questioningly at her, curious to know what had just upset Jo so much. But he took the cup with his left hand and nodded a quick thanks. Instead of trying to make her sip from the cup, though, he took out a neatly-folded handkerchief from his inside pocket and dipped it in the water. He then dabbed the wet cloth over her pale face and neck. The coolness of the water on the cloth caused her to stir. He dabbed the beads of sweat from her brow and whispered her name again. He quickly removed his suit jacket and held out his hand to Mike, who nodded, quickly removing his and handing it to Henry. Henry balled both of them up and used them to elevate Jo's legs. He then wet the handkerchief some more and dabbed it again on her face and neck. He vigorously rubbed her hands between his two hands. Her shallow breathing as well as the coldness of her hands alarmed him and he continued to rub them until he felt the warmth return to them.
"Here ya go, Doc," Lucas said, holding out the smelling salts to him. Henry quickly took one of the small, packaged inhalants, crushed it, and moved it back and forth under Jo's nose.
"Jo. Jo, wake up," he whispered, pleading.
Her eyelids flew open and her head jerked forward at the same time as she coughed and sputtered a few times. Finally, she closed her eyes again and lay back, taking in deep breaths. She nodded a couple of times when Henry told her that she would be fine and to just rest and breath deeply for a few minutes. He stood up and looked sternly at Reece and Mike. Not even Lucas had ever seen that look on his face before.
"Would either of you mind telling me just what the devil has been going on in here?" he demanded from under a dark scowl, his fists on his hips. Surprised at his own anger, he instantly regretted raising his voice at them for he counted them as friends, after all. But his rooster comb was up and if this had anything to do with them trying to satisfy their curiosity about either the TV show - or about him, God forbid - by bombarding Jo, his Jo, with a bunch of silly questions, well ... his anger was justified. Their questions or comments had obviously troubled her to point of her attempting to flee from their presence, he concluded. But what questions or comments had they leveled at her?
Startled, both the Lieutenant and the Detective felt the weight of Henry's years over theirs and temporarily shrank from him as if they were two misbehaving children about to be disciplined by their elder. Reece's confidence level slowly returned, allowing her to mentally regain her awareness that she was the in-charge authority figure.
"We were having a discussion," she calmly explained. "We wanted to try to understand a few things before speaking with you." She was outwardly calm and truly concerned about Jo and Henry's reaction. She didn't want to scare either of them away and certainly meant no harm to either of them. Her attempt at the subtle approach appeared to have backfired, much to her dismay.
"Is this about that blasted television show?" He flung his arms up and down in exasperation.
"Easy, Doc," Mike said. "We didn't mean to scare her." He watched Jo as she slowly began to sit up. Henry quickly turned around and helped her into a sitting position. "You okay, partner?" Mike asked, concerned.
She looked uncertainly up at him and Reece, then at Henry. She swallowed and replied, "I'm awake. I'm okay." But she was unable to hide the worry in her eyes.
Henry sat down next to her and took one of her hands in his, squeezing it. "Jo. Please tell me what's wrong. What has upset you so?" he gently asked, a mixture of concern and confusion on his face.
She closed her eyes and willed herself to speak. "Henry, they weren't asking me about the TV show," her voice shaky and whispery. "I couldn't answer any of their questions because ... it's not my place to answer them." She pressed her lower lip up against her top lip and gazed intently into his eyes.
Henry's frown deepened along with his growing confusion as he studied her, then it hit him. His features smoothed out and he blinked his widening eyes several times, finally looking up at each of their three colleagues. "I see," is all he said.
Jo now squeezed his hand as she held it. "They know ... certain things," she cautiously told him.
"Yes, I gathered as much," he tersely replied. He stared straight ahead and began to rapidly blink his eyes, swallowing several times. "Lucas?"
"Yeah, Henry?" Lucas replied, bending down closer to him.
"Would you mind ... awfully ... breaking out those ... smelling salts again?"
vvvv
Thankfully, he didn't faint and the smelling salts helped to eliminate the lightheadedness that had threatened to overtake him. Now if only they could take care of his legs that felt jerky and alive with nervous twitches. He was also thankful that he'd already been seated before the lightheadedness had come upon him. Resting against the sofa's back cushions, he covered his eyes and forehead with one hand. "What ... certain things?" he wearily asked.
"That you're an Im-MORT-al!" Lucas ecstatically blurted out. When met with Henry's wide-eyed look of horror and the annoyed glares of the other three, he muttered, "What? I've been waiting all week to say that." He felt it wiser to retreat to one of the chairs on the other side of the room. "Sorry," he said, shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head as he sat down.
Henry leaned forward and held his head in his hands while Mike angrily pointed out to Lucas that they had been going for subtle but oh, no, here he comes bargin' in with his blurt bus. Reece and Jo, at first annoyed and surprised at Lucas' unceremonious announcement, smiled weakly and urged Mike to calm down.
"No, no, no, Mike, it's okay," Henry said, straightening up and dropping his hand from his face. "I'm the one who should apologize." He stood up, his legs feeling more normal now, and walked closer to Lucas. With a smile of embarrassment on his face and his hands shoved down into his pockets, he turned to face them all.
"Yes. I am an Immortal," he reluctantly admitted and he couldn't believe he was actually doing that. "And ... I know that you all have questions as a result of obtaining this new information about me but ... for obvious reasons, I cannot comfortably discuss any of this in public." He paused, then added, "Not even here in your office, Lieutenant."
His lop-sided grin appeared as a bidding war ensued about whose residence would be turned into Morgan Central for a Q&A with their Immortal ME. Seated once again next to Jo, he crossed his arms and sat back, somewhat amused at the scene playing out in front of him. The issue was settled when Jo announced that they should gather at her place, date and time to be announced later, to which they all agreed.
"Where it all began," she reminded Henry, a tender smile exchanged between them.
Jo stood up with Henry when they became aware of a hunched-over, gleeful Lucas creeping towards him with outstretched arms.
"Heyyy, c'mere, Big Guyyy," Lucas beckoned him. Reece and Mike stepped in between them, blocking his approach, allowing the couple to leave her office admist Lucas' protests.
As they left the office and approached Jo's desk, he leaned closer to her and asked if she truly felt well enough to continue working. She assured him that she did. "Besides, it's only a couple more hours until we're off." Looking back at the door to Reece's office, she grinned and warned him, "He'll get you sooner or later, you know."
"Let's hope later than sooner," he replied, bugging his eyes. He pursed his lips and turned away, heading back to the morgue until quitting time.
vvvv
The remainder of the week was a slow buildup to the first part of the series' finale. Henry's now high profile had proven irksome at times, but he was managing to cope with strangers and co-workers, known and unknown, requesting selfies with him. Naturally, he'd politely refused, determined to avoid photographic immortalization. Usually, he was met with polite disappointment from the requestor but more than a few times had found himself the recipient of foul language and gestures from strangers that would make sailors blush.
It hadn't been any easier for Abe. The shop was now a tourist attraction. At first, he was encouraged by the increased foot traffic outside the shop for many had ventured inside. More paying customers were always welcome. But the increase in customers brought an increase in the volume of mundane but required paperwork on his part. He was seriously thinking of hiring someone from a temp agency to help out on the sales floor and someone else to handle the phones and Internet sales. He was grateful for the shop's newfound popularity resulting in increased sales but he was worried. Worried about Dad. What if there were unsavory sorts out there, including the government, who were putting 2 and 2 together and coming up with their own private number that equaled trouble for his immortal father?
He rang up the latest sale and shooed the rest of the customers out of the shop, flipping the sign to Closed and locking the door. Maybe remain closed for the rest of the day to give himself a breather? He'd decide later, he told himself, but for now he felt that an early and extended lunch was long overdue.
It was a rare treat for him to have his father home with him on a regular workday. They had discussed in bits and pieces the group conversation a few days earlier in Lt. Reece's office when she and Mike had revealed to Jo and him, their knowledge of his condition. It was gratifying to know that trustworthy comrades would be there for Dad now and in the future.
"Closing the shop up early, Abraham?" Henry asked as he ambled up behind Abe, hands shoved down into his pockets, an easy smile on his face.
"Yup," Abe replied. He turned around and motioned toward the stairs. "C'mon, let's go eat lunch." Actually, leftover lamb's stew from last night's dinner. They ate the delicious meal while discussing the events of the past several weeks and especially the "reveal" meeting in Reece's office.
"I'm really proud of you, Pops," Abe said after their meal and kitchen cleanup. "You didn't run for the hills after you were outed."
Henry smiled and sat down on the couch in the sitting area, appearing to be in a pensive mood to Abe.
"What's on your mind, Pops?"
"Oh, just thinking about the upcoming engagement at Jo's place."
Abe studied him for a moment. "Regretting you agreed to it?"
"No, far from it, Abraham," he replied. "Oddly enough ... looking forward to it."
"Well, great, great," Abe said with a grin. "And, eh, can I come, too?" he asked with all the nervous eagerness of an eight-year-old.
Henry's laughter bellowed from him. "Of course, Abraham." He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, his hands on his knees. "Why, telling my long story would mean nothing without you being there." He smiled softly, lowering his voice. "You and your mother, and Jo have each made my long life worthwhile."
They conversed pleasantly for the remainder of the afternoon, exploring topics from their London trip and Lord Henry's miraculous healing, to the reveal meeting in Reece's office and the upcoming Q&A session, to their newfound celebrity status and how to deal with it. Especially Henry. Dark glasses for Henry? Remembering again that they'd missed the last part of Episode 5, they placed it on the agenda for them to be brought up to speed during the Q&A.
vvvv
The group had gathered at Jo's Washington Heights home three hours before the airing of Part 1 of the series finale. The livingroom, though not large, still had enough seating to comfortably accommodate Abe, Henry, and Jo on the long sofa, Mike and Reece in the armchairs and Lucas on the oversized ottoman. The latter three were finally able to unbridle their enthusiasm over finding out that the guy who cuts up their dead bodies could (so far) never become one. Surprisingly, Reece was the one who'd seemed to have the most questions and Mike, for the most part, nodded in agreement as she'd asked them.
Henry had provided answers as honestly and as thoroughly as he could. If they sensed some of his memories were too painful, they backed off. His father's involvement with the international slave trade; his first death and rebirth; his first wife's betrayal; his imprisonment and eventual escape by suicide; abandonment by his second wife and not learning of her decades-old death until 30 years later. It was apparent to them that he'd suffered the loss of many family members and the few friends he'd ever made but Abigail's had been an immeasurable loss to him.
"Good gosh, Henry," Reece whispered as she recalled the Belinda Smoot cold case in Tarrytown that had led them to the shallow grave and bones of Abe's mother, the woman called Sylvia Blake. "She was actually Abigail. And ... you two kept the truth of her identity to yourselves for fear of exposing Henry's condition. So sorry," she said as she looked at Abe and him.
"I don't know what to say," Mike said. "Had to have been rough on you both ... " his voice trailed off and he cleared his throat. "Said this probably hundreds of times in the line of duty but I'm truly sorry for your loss." Lucas bent forward, nodding, with his hands clasped and his elbows resting on his thighs.
The group exchanged pained smiles and the silence that settled on the room as everyone called up their individual memories of that time, seemed also to serve as a silent observance in honor of Abigail's life and passing. Then the question came up of how exactly Henry knew to order the employee files from St. Timothy's Medical Center in Tarrytown where she'd worked just before her death.
"Ah ... well ... I didn't know," he stammered out a confused reply. His eyes darted back and forth then rested on Abe, who shrugged and shook his head. "But I would have had to sign the request ... " His voice trailed off as he shifted his gaze from Abe to Lucas.
Lucas squirmed uncomfortably under Henry's probing gaze. He looked at Abe whose eyes were as big as saucers, now realizing that something not-so-legal may have been done to get his mother's employee records. Lucas opened his mouth to speak then shut it as he looked around at the others. He cleared his throat as Henry leveled a squinty I-Know-What-You-Did look at him.
Abe, sensing that Lucas was being left to twist in the wind, spoke up. "Look, uh, uh, I went to Lucas for help and, and, and, and he helped." He looked around at the others and asked, "What difference does it make now how he did it?"
First removing that pugio from Evidence Lockup against Jo's instructions and giving it to Henry. That had thankfully been smoothed over by her so that he and Henry could keep their jobs. But forging his signature on the request form? Holy handcuffs, Batman!
Reece, slightly amused, gazed sympathetically at Lucas and reassured him that her eyes and ears were now off duty. It was okay to share with them how he managed to pull off obtaining Abigail's records from St. Timothy's.
The group waited while Lucas gathered both his words and his courage. He felt it best to give them a demonstration. His posture straightened and an air of superiority settled on his features while holding the receiver of an imaginery phone up to his ear.
"Ahem, yes, this is Dawk-tuh Henry Moe-gahn, speaking," he began. He continued although the group (except Henry) broke out into loud guffaws at his exaggerated British phonetics. "I'm cawling to place a request for awl of the - "
"Lucas. Lucas. Lucas," Henry interrupted, shaking his head in mock sadness. The group's laughter died down somewhat and Henry lowered his head, remembering that troubled time. Under raised eyebrows, he smiled at Lucas and quietly thanked him, though, for what he'd done or else he and Abe might still be in the dark as to her fate.
"One ... bit of advice, though," he began, clasping his hands in his lap and rolling his shoulders back. "Put less emphasis on each syllable. Calls undue attention to the fact that it is not your native accent. Also allows the words to flow more freely." He ended with a smile and a quick wink, to which Lucas nodded, a sheepish grin on his face.
"Say, Doc," Mike began. "I've been meaning to ask you about that case with the pugio dagger. You were really acting weird, uh, agitated at the time. What was up with that?" Henry stiffened and the mirth left his face. Mike frowned when he saw Jo and Abe stiffen, as well.
Reece, sensing that this was yet another dark area of the ME's life, felt it best to run interference for him. "Sounds like a discussion best left for another time. If and when the good doctor cares to share, I'll be ready to listen." She smiled softly and Mike gave a slight shrug as Henry, Jo, and Abe visibly relaxed.
Abe, feeling thankful that Dad wouldn't have to make another painful disclosure (or admit to more illegal activity), felt it was now time to be updated on what the three of them had missed of the last episode. Lucas happily filled them in.
vvvv
Episode 5 of "The Morgan Chronicles" ended with ...
A passenger ship as it sailed closer to the Statue of Liberty. The passengers crowded along the edge of the ship's railing. One passenger was a well-dressed Englishman with a pencil-thin mustache. He slowly removed his bowler hat and his owlish eyes opened even wider with wonder as they took in the New York shoreline of the new country he would now call home.
/
Series Finale, Episode 6, Part 1 ...
The 1897 New York shoreline gradually fades away, and that of 1929's fades in. The camera pulls the viewers toward and over the buildings and downward into the streets where a sea of panic-stricken people scurry along the sidewalks and in and out of the streets, dodging cars driven by even more panic-stricken drivers.
"EK-stree, EK-stree, Read all about it!" rises up from busy street corners yelled by flat-capped young newsboys in knickers held up by suspenders over long-sleeved white shirts.
The frenzied scene unfolds as if the viewers are peering over the left shoulder of a smartly-dressed, dark-haired man in a fedora who makes his way through the crowd over to a newsboy. The boy expertly whips out a paper to the man and grasps the bill he hands him. Before he can make change, the man quickly walks away with the paper. The boy's eyes nearly pop out of his head when he realizes how large the bill is. He looks up to thank the man but the crowd has swallowed him up.
"Zow-wee. A whole $20!" He stuffs the bill down into the side of one of his hightop shoes and resumes the sale of his papers with renewed vigor in the hopes of getting another big tip from an overly-generous customer.
The big tipper - the camera still following behind him - eventually comes to stop in front of a building ten floors taller than the 120-floored Empire State Building. He unfolds his newspaper to reveal the headline to the viewers: WALL ST. LAYS EGG! The Stock Market has just crashed, turning many investors into instant paupers. He mutely eyes the large letters emblazoned on the outside of the building (the camera leaves his eyes and zooms in on the words THE MORGAN BUILDING). He then cranes his neck back to take in it's towering grandeur. The camera switches back to a closeup of his unmistakable eyes and then follows his line of vision to give viewers a look at the building's facade, lifting them upward as if in an aerial elevator, outside a large window in the penthouse offices.
A well-dressed woman in her late 70's eyes the confused humanity below from the large window on the inside of her son's office. She shakes her head and turns away from the dismaying scene. She frowns at her son, Raymond Morgan, pacing back and forth in front of his large, mahogany wood desk.
"Raymond, please stop that infernal pacing. You're making me nervous," she implores him, the remnants of a British accent in her voice, although for the past more than 40 years she, Anne Raymond Morgan, has called America home. "And I don't understand what's got you all worked up. You said that your money and the company are safe because you cashed in your portfolio more than a month ago." She waits for his reply that never comes. He continues his worried pacing.
"What exactly is troubling you, Raymond?" she asks in a softer, more caring tone.
"Mother," he scoffs, running a hand down the back of his plastered down hair. "Nothing makes you nervous. Even before father died 18 years ago, you have been at the helm of our cargo lines."
"Your father always knew exactly what to do to keep this business afloat," she replies in defense of her late husband.
"Yes, and he knew exactly what to do as long as the two of you kept your heads together," he reminds her. "Thought I didn't know, did you?" he asks, smiling at her. He grasps her hand in both of his and pats it. Then the worry spreads across his face again.
"It's different this time, Mother." He lowers his eyes from her sympathetic gaze. "I may have been able to pull our finances from out of the proverbial fire, but our suppliers, investors, not to mention most of our customers, were not so foresighted as to follow my advice." He shook his head and sat down on the edge of the desk. "What good is it to have found a lifeline while practically everyone else is perishing?"
"We'll .. find ... other investors," she replies hestitantly. "Other business ventures to invest in."
"Such as?" he scornfully demands.
"You're not the only one who possessed the foresight to sell their holdings before this awful day," she points out. "Your Uncle Jeffrey, for one."
He chuckles, shaking his head. "No offense, Mother, but father's twin brother with his sorry string of fishing vessels in Nova Scotia are hardly my idea of a viable investment opportunity."
"Raymond!" She clasps her hands in front of her, surprised at what she feels are disrespectful remarks. "Your Uncle Jeffrey Morgan has always looked out for you! And you wasted no time taking his advice to sell your stock!" she sternly reminds him.
"Yes, yes," he wearily agrees, nodding. "Advice he simply passed on to me from Joseph Kennedy's former chauffeur." He smirks, crossing his arms across his chest.
She drops her arms by her sides, glaring disdainfully at him. "Whatever the source, it served you well. Jeffrey may have other valuable advice for you," she ventures.
"Mother," Raymond grumbles and leans over to press the intercom button on the desk in reply to its buzzing. "Yes, Evelyn."
("There's a private investigator named Erin Collins from the Warne Investigation Agency here to see you, Mr. Morgan.")
"Thank you. Please send him in." Releasing the intercom button, he straightens up just as a beautiful young woman enters the office. When Raymond sees her, he almost stops breathing. Confirmed bachelor that he is, it nevertheless feels to him as if her warm, blue eyes are melting his heart. Wisps of her golden hair peek out from under her Cloche hat. She holds an envelope in her slim fingers and the sunlight dances across her light pink nail polish. Time seems to slow down as she bats her long, dark eyelashes. When their eyes meet, her face lights up and for a second, blinds him with her sheer beauty. Her sleek legs glide her confidently across the floor toward him with squared shoulders, her goal clearly in mind. He stands tongue-tied as they finally come face-to-face. Her rose red lips move slowly, forming words he is neither prepared for nor anticipates. When he fails to immediately respond, she withdraws her outstretched hand and fingers the lapel of her winter-weight, wool dress coat topped with a dressy, squirrel-fur collar.
"Raymond," his mother admonishes him, "where are your manners?" Turning her attention to the young woman, she says, "Please be seated, Miss Collins." As the young woman seats herself, Raymond's mother moves behind the other chair next to her and watches amusedly as her son awkwardly but quickly seats himself behind his desk.
"Forgive me, Miss Collins, er, I was expecting - "
"A man. I know," she replies knowingly. "My first name of Erin and the fact that I am also a private detective, lends to the constant misunderstanding. But my given name gets me in the door and once my ... our ... clients realize how they benefit from my services, they quickly recover from their initial shock." She pushes an envelope across the desk toward him.
He picks it up and begins opening it. "This is the information you were hired to obtain for me on Dr. Henry Morgan?"
She nods. "It's all in there. At least ... all that was available."
He frowns as he reads the one-page document and studies the small headshot photo that accompanies it. He lowers the documents to look at her, confusion on his face. "I don't understand. All the money that I paid for your agency's services to locate this man and this is all I get? A forwarding address? A lockbox, no less. Information that I already have!" Exasperated, he shoves the documents back into the envelope.
"A generous portion of the salvaged proceeds belongs to him," he explains to Investigator Collins. "I like to think that I'm a shrewd businessman but not a thief."
"But you have his explicit instructions on how and where to forward his portion and NOT to search for him," his mother reminds him. "What is this unfathomable obsession with him? Why do you need to meet with him? None of your previous business ventures with him have been conducted in person and the results have always boded well for both of you."
"Which is odd when you think about it," he replies. "There's something to be said for seeing your business partners in the flesh. According to my information, he's not only a doctor but a world traveler and brilliant linguist. I'd simply like to meet the man face-to-face. Is that so difficult to understand?" he askes, spreading his arms.
"Well, it's apparent that he doesn't want to be found," his mother retorts, obviously flustered with her son. "Why can't you at least respect the man's wishes and just send him his money? We don't need anymore problems such as lawsuits right now."
"This is certainly frustrating. He's proven to be more elusive than I anticipated," the female investigator sadly admits. "A hard nut to crack, for sure. Failure is not something that I'm used to." A soft smile tugs at her lips as she locks her gaze with his. "However, I would welcome any ideas you might have on how to proceed further. Say ... over dinner?" she proposes, batting her eyes flirtatiously.
Surprised but delighted at her forwardness, he struggles to hide his smile. "Well, I think that can be arranged. Would tonight be agreeable with you?" She smiles her reply and the two become lost in each other's eyes. Neither of them notices when Raymond's mother begins to leave the office, realizing, hoping, that she has probably witnessed a love-at-first-sight meeting between her son and this lovely, lady detective.
Raymond finally pulls his gaze away from Erin's just in time to see his mother exiting his office. 'My mother. Ever the matchmaker,' he laughingly thinks to himself. But this time, he acknowledges, she just may soon celebrate the end of his bachelorhood.
The scene advances to the spring of 1932 when Raymond Morgan and Erin Collins wed in an elaborate ceremony with all of the trappings of high society. He has successfully held onto his fortune and it grows substantially through the decades with investments in chiefly the automobile and aerospace industries and something called charcoal briquettes. Their joint effort to locate the elusive Dr. Henry Morgan has proven more daunting a task than either had anticipated. And, though never abandoning the hope of locating him and meeting him face-to-face, the activities of their busy lives forces them to relegate that concern to the bottom of their priorities.
Images that rolled one after the other across the screen found the couple after six years of marriage, all but having given up hope of ever having children when they happily welcome twin girls in 1938, and name them Eleanor and Eileen. Two years later, a son, Raymond, Jr., is born. The family spends prosperous years in New York, usually vacationing near the family's vineyards in the south of France, or in the stately family manor in London.
In the spring of 1947 Eileen is admitted to New York's Presbyterian Hospital to have her tonsils removed. A post-surgery infection delays her discharge from the hospital and her surgeon consults with another physician on staff before proceeding further. He is a young, British doctor with kind eyes and a comforting bedside manner. The camera follows his shiny black shoes and the lower part of his crisply-creased black trousers as he walks down a corridor and enters the girl's room. The camera zooms slowly in on her and her face lights up when it seems he is approaching her bedside.
"And how are we feeling today, Miss ... Miss ... oh, what is your name?" he teases, grabbing her chart and scouring it for her name. She laughs at him while he bugs his eyes and rifles through the pages of her chart. A big grin spreads across his face when he seems to find it. "Of course! Ellen."
"Noooo, Eileen," she giggles and giggles more when he frowns and brings the chart up close to his face.
"Aha!" He lowers the chart with an apologetic look on his face. "How could I have made such a stupid mistake. Ei-LEEN," he draws out, bowing deeply.
A pretty, blonde nurse in a starched white uniform that brought out her sparking, crystal-blue eyes, enters the room. "You've been warned before, Dr. Morgan, not to forget patients' names. It upsets them terribly." She frowns at him but winks and smiles at Eileen who continues to giggle.
Eileen likes the sound of the couple's British accents and tells them that they remind her of her grandparents' accents. When the nurse politely asks their names, the girl replies, "Grandpapa and Grandmama." The nurse and doctor both chuckle at that and Eileen grins back at them. Getting back to business, the medical duo check and document Eileen's progress toward regaining full health.
"My parents should be here any moment," she happily reports. "You can finally meet them." Before either can react or speak, the door to her room opens and a man and woman enter in an anxious but controlled rush. "Mummy! Daddy!" Eileen greets them, sitting up on her elbows. "I'm so happy you're here. You can meet my new doctor, the nice one, and the nice nurse I've been telling you about."
The parents, Raymond and Erin Morgan, focus mainly on their daughter and the nurse and doctor step back to allow them closer access to her. They exchange kisses and hugs then Raymond turns to speak to the doctor. Smiling broadly, he nods politely at the nurse and thanks her. His eyes drop to read her name tag (the camera shows a closeup of it): Abigail Morgan, R.N. 'Hmmm. What a coincidence,' he thinks. He turns toward the doctor and his broad smile freezes on his face. The 1929 headshot photo of the elusive Dr. Henry Morgan flashes before him, temporarily obscuring the doctor.
"Daddy?" Eileen's voice effectively wipes out the called up image from his memory. He turns quickly toward the direction of her voice to see her staring questioningly at him. "It's impolite to stare, you always tell us," she chidingly reminds him. He nods, steals a quick glance at his wife, Erin, whose expression reflects his own astonishment. She nods almost imperceptibly at him and keeps her eyes on him, coaxing her smile back onto her face. He pulls his smile back together and turns to face the doctor again, lowering his eyes to his name tag: Henry Morgan, M.D.
"Uh, Doctor," he slowly begins, "are you related, by any chance, to the Dr. Henry Morgan that I once did business with a few years prior to the stock market crash of 1929? Of course, I only have a photograph to remember him by, never having had the pleasure of meeting him - "
"Yes, yes, that was my, ah, my Uncle Henry. I'm actually named after him," he smilingly informs him.
"Never could catch up with him, world traveler that he was." Raymond recalls. "Is he still living?"
"As far as I know, he's still living," the doctor tells him. "He still ... travels ... from time to time."
"That's very gratifying to know that he chooses to remain active," Raymond tells him. "Wish that I could have sat down and had just a few moments of his time, though," he laments. "I've often wondered if he and, you, for that matter, are related to my Morgan family?"
The doctor appears to flinch at the question but quickly responds in the negative. "Not to my knowledge," he replies. Glancing at the nurse, he clears his throat and changes the subject to their daughter's improved condition with the help of penicillin to fight the infection and that she could be discharged the next day. The parents, relieved and thankful, lose themselves in their plans to finally bring their daughter home. The doctor and the nurse bid them all goodbye and leave the room.
"Bears an uncanny resemblance to his uncle, doesn't he?" Raymond shares with Erin. "If I didn't know better, I'd say they were the same man."
Erin scoffs and replies, "That would mean the man is some sort of phantom who lives an unaging existence!" She laughs and declares, "Something that is utterly impossible." Raymond smiles and nods his head in agreement.
The scene switches to the doctor and the nurse now standing in the hospital corridor outside Eileen's room. They face each other and share a wordless exchange. The nurse, Abigail, places her hand briefly on his cheek and turns to walk away. He quickly grabs her wrist and brings the back of her hand up to his lips and kisses it. Abigail smiles lovingly and turns and walks in the direction of the nurses' station. He smiles lovingly after her as he watches her retreat. His smile appears to exhibit a tinge of regret and his eyes fail to hide a weariness in them. The camera pulls away from him, propelling the viewers backward. He appears smaller and smaller at the end of the corridor and he and his surroundings disappear into an indistinguishable blur as he walks away from the camera.
vvvv
Information on the first U.S. female private eye and the Kate Warne Investigating Agency gleaned fromt he Internet
1920's fashions gleaned from the Internet
Scottish scientist Alexander Fleming discovered penicillin, the world's first effective antibiotics, in 1928.