Couples

Chapter 48

Kate runs her fingers through Rick's newly washed hair as he studies an image on his laptop. "What are you doing?"

"Digging more deeply into Werkill, specifically Fishkill at the moment. I found his old high school yearbook. He wasn't the most popular guy."

"There's a surprise," Kate comments, rolling her eyes.

"There's a picture of him with the JROTC."

"So the boy liked guns," Kate guesses.

"Maybe, but he wasn't much good with all the military training stuff. There are a few comments about a twerp washing out. Guess who?"

"So Fishkill might have learned how to shoot, but not very well," Kate conjectures.

Rick nods. "That was my guess."

Kate leans toward the screen. "What about Werner?"

"I didn't find his high school chronicles, but I found his college yearbook. He went to Yackton, a non-revered institution not far from here. If I remember from going through colleges with Alexis, it has a 98% acceptance rate and less than half that for graduation."

"His last resort?'" Kate questions.

"Something like that. The school specializes in business courses. As far as I can tell, that was all Werner was into except for being on the golf team," Rick notes.

"He couldn't have been that good at the game either, or it would have earned him a scholarship somewhere else," Kate figures. "No signs of interest in guns?"

"None. Fishkill was probably the shooter," Rick figures.

Kate's lips thin. "It doesn't matter. If Werner was in on it, they're both guilty. We have enough now for me to pull their financials. They're selling contraband. But if either one of them imported bullets, I'm pulling him in. Want to bet whoever it is, flips on the other one?"

"With those slime balls? "Rick raises his hands in front of his face. "No bet."

"Whoo!" Lanie exclaims, wiping her forearm across her forehead. "Where's my Jamba Juice?"

"I put it in the refrigerator," Lorne replies. "I checked. It's running at the temperature it should. And your drink was getting warm while you were going through all those boxes. I didn't think you'd want it to ferment."

"At least not until we get around to celebrating," Lanie agrees, weaving her way through the stacks of cartons to the small kitchen. "We should be able to get most of this put away in a couple more hours."

Lorne surveys his carefully labeled containers. "I hope so. Thanks for helping Rick's contractor get in here to build the storage. Otherwise, I'd be living in a maze."

"Nothing to it," Lanie claims and takes a deep draw of her sweet pick-me-up. "That's better. Unpacking duties aside, I'm really glad you're here."

Lorne picks a path toward her. "Not as glad as I am. These last few weeks were like a decade, maybe more."

"You're that anxious to start your new job?" Lanie probes.

Lorne sputters. "Moving to New York wasn't about the job, Lanie. Not that I won't enjoy a higher paycheck, but I wouldn't have considered relocating if you weren't here. The job just made it possible."

Resting her cup on what space she can find on the counter, Lanie wraps her arms around him. "So you came here to be with me?"

"Of course! What did you think?"

"I wasn't sure what to think," Lanie confesses. "But you're here. Now what? Unpack the sheets?"

"Yes, eventually. But if all I wanted was sex, I could have kept meeting you in New Jersey. I want us to make a life together. I was hoping you knew that."

"How could I know it?" Lanie demands. "You never said it. But I was hoping too."

Lorne leans in for a kiss. "Now that we've got that settled, maybe we should find the box with the sheets."

Lanie grabs a handful of the firm flesh beneath his back pocket. "I know exactly where they are."

"Ooh!" With the bed still surrounded by boxes, Lanie stretches luxuriantly.

Lorne props himself up beside her. "There's one thing I need to unpack now."

She gestures around the room. "A lot more than one."

He squeezes her hand. "One in particular."

Pulling on his shirt, Lorne fetches his go-bag from the walk-in closet and puts it on a corner of the bed. "I bought this after I accepted the position here," he explains, retrieving a small package from inside. "I have an M.E.'s eye for the dimensions of digits, so it should fit. But we can get it sized if it doesn't. Damn! There isn't enough room in here to kneel." He snaps open a ring box. "Lanie Parish, will you marry me?"

Lanie springs toward him. "Of course I'll marry you. Now put that thing on my finger."

Kate drops her tote bag and fans herself as she arrives in the loft. "Hot out there!"

Rick extends a glass of icy lemonade. "Here. I used real lemons." He holds up a manual citrus juicer and flexes his bicep. "This thing is better exercise than one of those squeezy things with the springs. Did you get the Werkill financials?"

"Werner's came in right before I left. No bullet orders I could see. Fishkill's should be in tomorrow morning."

"It would make sense that he'd be the one to order the ammo if he was the shooter," Rick acknowledges. "You'll call me when you know?"

"That is information I can't wait to share. But maybe there are other matters we can explore here and now.

Rick wiggles his eyebrows. "Indeed. Alexis is meeting with Mother uptown. She's trying to sort out who's working on her dress, grandmother versus future mother-in-law."

Kate grimaces. "That doesn't sound like fun."

"No," Rick agrees. "But she can handle it. However, speaking of fun, Lily's napping off her run around with Belle. That should take her a while."

"So we have some time to ourselves?" Kate assumes.

"It would seem so," Rick confirms. "Something special on your mind?"

"Another glass of lemonade, maybe, but I don't want to cool down too much."

Rick pulls her against his body. "And why is that?"

"Because what I have in mind is hot."

"Oh. Should I turn down the air conditioning?" Rick teases.

Kate grinds against his growing interest. "No need. We can make our own heat."

Rick scoops her up. "Yes, yes, we can."

Alexis slides into a seat opposite Martha at a small table in a theater district café. "Thanks for meeting me, Gram. I know you don't have much time before your performance."

Martha waves away Alexis's concern. "Always time for my granddaughter. So, what's the emergency?"

"Dana and I have been trying to work things out for our wedding. And I know that making a dress can take a long time. I mean, some brides order years ahead, and we have less than three months. So we put the dress upfront in our schedule." Alexis passes a piece of paper to her grandmother. "This is what we came up with."

Martha's eyes narrow as she studies the text. "You want me to get a fitting for you this week."

"I really believe I need to start as soon as possible. Do you think Julia can work with that?"

"I don't know," Martha admits. "I'll talk to her first thing when I get back to the theater and call you as soon as she gives me an answer."

"Thanks, Gram."

Martha cups Alexis's cheek. "What could be more important than my granddaughter's happiness? Now let's find out if the chef made any of his remarkable strawberry cheesecake." Martha signals for a server.