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Designed Intent

Chapter 36

The Next Week

Monday

Bobby was at work early and he felt terrific. He and Gleason had spoken very early that morning. Afterward, she said she was going back to sleep as she was particularly tired and her class wasn't until that evening. Bobby loved talking with her in the morning. They had spoken often over the weekend.

"Well, this is a change," Eames said walking toward the desks, shrugging out of her coat.

"Yeah, well, a lot to do, a lot to do," he replied, continuing to write.

Deakins came around the corner from the elevators and was delighted to see his two best detectives already at work. Let this week be a good one, he prayed. "Good to see you both here already," he mentioned, walking by.

The detectives spent the rest of the day investigating the counterfeit books, making interview appointments with the purchasers, researching where one would find a period printing press or find the parts to build one, and they spoke again with Dr. Pennelli. Bit by bit, pieces of the counterfeit book scheme were coming together.

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Mrs. Goren asked for a cup of coffee and the nurse was delighted, "Well, welcome back Dear. How are you? We've missed you these few days."

"Have you seen my grandson?" Frances asked.

"You mean your son, that tall young man? Not today, he stopped by last evening, however."

Frances shook her head and said, "No! My grandson, GRANDson you idiot!" Folks tended to be a bit short tempered as the effects of the drug continued to wear off.

"Well, I guess not. Let me get your coffee. Are you hungry?"

"Find me my grandson."

Christian stood at the sound of his gramma's voice and peeked from behind the drape. She woke up, he said to himself, she woke up! Slowly the little boy walked to his gramma's side. "Gramma?" he whispered, fingertips on the arm of her chair.

Frances thought she heard him, but wasn't sure, "Christian? Where are you, Sweet Pea? Come see your gramma."

Christian moved and stood right in front of her, smiled and said, "Here I am Gramma."

Frances tilted her head to the left and listened. "Christian, is that you? Where are you?"

The boy with the dark red curls knew then that he was fading, his gramma could no longer see him, and she could barely hear him. Soon, he would be no more, a lost and forgotten memory, a promise of what might have been.

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Tuesday

"Hi," he said when she picked up the phone.

"Malcolm, what do you want?" she asked, not hiding her distain.

"I want to talk with you about submitting a proposal to speak at the International Ancient Studies Conference next year. It's in Toronto."

A conference, eh? Gleason was intrigued. "When is it?"

"Next November. The timing is perfect, our article will just be out and this conference will fulfill the expectations for the next academic year. You'll be two for two – an article for this year, an international conference presentation for next year; and, your book launches the year after, God woman, you'll have hit the academic expectations trifecta!" He waited for her to consider and then continued, "What do you say?"

A conference in Toronto – she and Bobby could go together, a little holiday away. "When is the proposal due?"

"Three weeks hence. Let's have lunch and talk about it."

"I can't meet today, too much to do; how about tomorrow at ten? Can you reserve the room in the library again? I'll call Willow and see if that's good for her, I think she has office hours at that time." Gleason smiled as she said this.

"Wait, wait, why are you calling Willow?"

Gleason knew all along what this old dog was up to. With utmost sugared sincerity Gleason answered, "Well, Malcolm, Willow co-authored the article, she needs to be part of the presentation, too. Don't you agree?"

Malcolm rubbed his hand over his forehead and scowled. No, he did not agree, but was loath to admit it. After nearly a too long silence, he said, "Of course that would be the professional thing to do; invite our third author. Of course."

Gleason could hear his edgy disappointment, so she decided to rub it in. "If we are accepted, it will be so nice for Willow to get out. She must be so lonely. And, Malcolm, you can bring your wife and son; and Bobby can come with me. Oh, this is going to be wonderful! Thank you Malcolm, what a brilliant idea; you are a terrific mentor. Thanks. I will call you if Willow cannot make the meeting. See you tomorrow. Tah!" And she hung up.

Malcolm hung up the phone and thought, why can't things go my way, one time, just one time. His long-range plan for a few days alone with Gleason in Toronto had escalated into a multi-family excursion. Damn!

Gleason was delighted with how that went.

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Wednesday

"Ok, so the counterfeiter has been carrying on his father's work?" Deakins asked.

Bobby nodded enthusiastically, "It seems so. James Doogan is a second-generation counterfeiter. He learned at the knee of the master, his father, Donald Peckham."

"Doogan is Peckham's son?"

Bobby nodded.

"Two different last names? Why?"

Eames answered with, "James Doogan changed his last name when his father went to prison. Peckham died in prison after serving twenty-four years. James visited his father regularly and continued to learn the craft."

"Where did the son get another printing press?" Deakins asked.

Bobby picked up with, "That's the thing; Peckham's equipment was never confiscated. It was left in the warehouse. Doogan lay low, waiting for the authorities to come and get it and it never happened. So, he began to use it. I have to tell you, that piece of equipment should go into a museum."

"This case really popped open again. What happened?"

"Bobby started investigating other counterfeiting schemes and came across Peckham's name."

"I looked at his prison records and found the son's name as the contact person. On a hunch, we interviewed him yesterday."

Eames grinned up at the Captain and raised her eyebrows. Thank God he's back, was the silent message between them. "So what's next on this?" he asked.

Eames replied, "Well, Carver is drawing up search warrants for Doogan's home, office, and warehouse. We'll bring him in and interview him again. I think this one is about to close, Captain."

Both Bobby and Deakins winced, and Deakins said, "You don't have it until you have it. Don't jinx this, Alex."

"Sorry," she whispered and went back to work.

Deakins lingered and said to Bobby, "How you doing?"

"Good, I'm good."

"Notice anything with those pills yet?"

Bobby glanced at Eames and shook his head. Deakins realized that he should not have asked about it in front of Bobby's partner, it was no one's business. "Say, has Carver talked to you about testifying at the Bandelli trial?"

"He said it was on the docket to begin Monday and to make plans to be available. I guess he and I are going to start prepping Thursday or Friday."

"This is going to be a long trial. It's been a long time coming."

"I know. It will be good to put that creep away for a long time."

Deakins nodded and walked to his office.

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That afternoon, Bobby asked to see Deakins in his office.

"What can I do for you?" Deakins asked as Bobby followed him and shut his office door. "Have a seat."

"Gleason's been having these spells and I think it's her heart. I made an appointment with her heart doctor for Friday afternoon and I'd like to go with her. I'll, I'll need to take a few personal hours. That's ok, isn't it?"

"Yeah, sure," Deakins replied, but continued with, "Bobby, you know Carter wants to start preparing you for your testimony next week. I think he plans to start tomorrow afternoon and wants to continue on Friday. Why don't you give him a call and work it out. I want you to be ready for this trial. This is an important one."

"They're all important," Bobby answered with a scowl. "I'll call him, but I'm going with her to this appointment. I'll be ready for the trial." He stood and left.

It was so much easier when he was a regular, single guy Deakins thought.

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