S1 E4 - Megan Talbot Returns
Part 1 of 4
It's a hot quiet late morning – a furnace day – a gin clear day.
Richard hears a clear 'ding' from the Public Service Counter, throws down the damp cloth he'd been napping under, straightens his tie and calls out, "Coming." He rounds the corner from his desk striving to look brisk and awake and efficient and says, "Yes? How may I…" then his voice gives out, he staggers to a halt , and he utters a faintly strangled, "… help you?"
His wide staring eyes blaze briefly then widen further as he glances over his shoulder in an unthinking knee-jerk reaction. Empty, the station is still empty; Dwayne's on patrol, Fidel isn't in yet, and Camille… his scalp actually prickles as he brain whispers… Oh my god, where's Camille? The demure clearing of a throat cranks his head back around to once more face certain doom.
For there – standing at the Public Counter and smiling very privately – is Megan Talbot.
He closes his eyes, counts to ten, opens them again. Yep. Nope. Still bloody Megan Talbot – with the long mane of honeyed hair, peaches and cream complexion, cornflower blue eyes, and dynamite figure in a breezy frock that left nothing to the imagination. Christ, his brain gibbers, on her a gunny sack would look sexy!
And she's smiling the killer smile – the one that begs for kindness and 'please be gentle' and 'if only I had a good man in my life' – the smile that had shot him right through the heart and yanked his libido up into his chest to lodge somewhere in the vicinity of his hammering pulse not so long ago.
That smile.
Now her lips are moving but he can't make it out. What is she saying? If only the roaring noise in my head would stop for a moment then maybe I'd be able to hear! He gives himself a shake, trying to rattle his brains back into action as he takes the last two steps to finally reach the counter, practically falling onto it, throwing down both hands to keep his balance.
Megan smiles anew and captures one of his rigid hands with a petal-soft hand of her own. The roar in his head crashes into a hushed stillness, very like the proverbial 'calm before the storm'. "What?" he gasps, "What did you say?"
"I said," she smiles and leans forward, giving him both blue barrels from beneath lowered lashes, "it's so nice to see you again."
"Is it?" he all but squeaks, suddenly feeling garroted. His free hand floats up to run a finger beneath his collar as the temperature in the room soars. Must be a solar flare, his brain non-sequiturs.
Shut up! he yells to himself, I'm in trouble here and you're checking the weather? Help me!
The internal voice harrumphs, Sorry, chum, you're on your own with this one! I was useless the first time around and I'm useless now. You need some other ally, not me! Then, in a snarky tone, Now who do we know that can handle women, hmmmm?
It is at this precise moment that Richard hears a familiar tread behind him and whirls to see Fidel coming in to his own desk. His mind gasps in relief. Fidel! Fidel knows women! He married one of them! Fidel will help me! But Fidel is sitting down, Fidel is turning on his computer, Fidel hasn't seen, Fidel doesn't know.
"Um, Officer Best, a moment please?" Richard says in a strange high voice.
Fidel's head snaps up at his boss' tone and he sees, he knows; the Chief, Megan Talbot, the Chief's hand caught on the counter-top, the mad panic in the Chief's swimming gaze. Neuron-leaping code flashes between the two men and Fidel is suddenly striding forward. He reaches the Chief, takes the arm of the captured hand, and none too subtly extricates it. He then gently but firmly maneuvers his boss aside and slightly behind his own body, steps up to the counter and briskly intones, "Yes, ma'am? How may I help you?"
Into the brief ensuing surprised silence, only Richard's almost audible sigh of gratitude is more felt than heard – at least by Fidel. The gentle gust of the Chief's breath against Fidel's shoulder is very eloquent , as is the very faint, 'Thank you.' Richard pats Fidel several times on the back before taking a deep breath and stepping back out into view to say, "Sergeant Best can assist you, if you please."
Megan looks from him to Fidel, frowning, "Well, no, actually, I want to talk to YOU, Ri…"
She is interrupted by an unexpected voice bugling, "What is SHE doing here?" making all three of them jump, Richard squeaking again as he whirls once more. Now he is sheltering Fidel who is trying to hide (none too successfully) behind the boss for at the far end of the station stands Camille, her eyes ripping holes in the air. Her hair looks to be hackling out around her head and she seems to be growing taller as they watch.
Fidel whispers, "Oh, golly," and clutches Richard's shoulders in sudden realization that the fat has indeed fallen into the fire and Mount Bordey is about to blow!
Richard however instinctively revs into 'Bordey Defense Mode' at full speed. "Camille!" he lisps airily, "Ha ha, there you are. Look who dropped in to say 'Hi'! It's Mrs. Talbot. You remember Mrs. Talbot, don't you?" As his manic good cheer continues to tumble forth, Camille advances and the men inch back until they are crammed up against the counter.
Fidel's huge eyes hover above Richard's shoulder but he takes his cue and nods like mad, "Yes, right, Mrs. Talbot, stopping to say 'Hi', isn't that nice?" Camille snaps him a look that clicks his teeth shut and he almost bites his tongue. Under his hands, he feels the Chief tense up into a pretty good imitation of a driftwood stump but his reverence for the man increases tenfold when the Chief actually steps forward to meet Camille halfway.
She swerves around Richard's placating hand and stalks up to the counter to look down her nose at the insignificant, inconsequential, and unimportant person on the other side. The two women lock eyes for a fraught moment then Camille purrs over her shoulder, "I'll handle this, gentlemen, if you don't mind."
Two heads bob, two sets of feet scuttle off to disappear back around the corner towards Richard's desk. Then they spin just out of sight, grip each other in curious dread, and eavesdrop with all their might.
All they hear is nothing, a very long loud loquacious nothing.
Finally, Camille's voice grates out, "So, shoot anyone lately?"
END – part 1