*Author's Note at the bottom*
Early Edition:
LIVE YOUR LIFE
Lindsay kicked her covers off and tried to wake herself as she walked to the door. After six months, Lindsay had found herself settled into a routine. A routine that began every morning at 6:30 when she received her wake up call from the cat.
Lindsay opened the door and bent down to grab the paper. After the cat scampered toward his dish, Lindsay plopped down in her living room chair, and quickly browsed through the paper.
Well, nothing before ten this morning, Lindsay said to herself with a sigh of relief. She was going to have time for the second part of her Lindsay quickly showered and dressed. She reached down an patted the cat on the head, and was met with a meow of feline appreciation.
See you later, cat, Lindsay said to her orange side-kick and closed the door to the loft above McGinty's.
Downstairs she could smell her breakfast. Marissa was quickly becoming a combination of best friend and mother. She always made sure that Lindsay ate right. Marissa made sure that Lindsay, Garrison, and Zeke, started their day with a good breakfast. Every morning that Lindsay wasn't needed immediately by the paper, she met the guys for breakfast. Over breakfast, they talked about the paper's daily activities.
Lindsay soon saw the guys in their regular spot at the same table in McGinty's. Zeke was already in the middle of his breakfast. Garrison, of course, was waiting for Lindsay to arrive before he started. It was the same everyday. Lindsay was amused with the predictability of most of her mornings. Months ago she would never have guessed for this oasis of security in the middle of the rush of activity that came with the paper.
Zeke had been right, he had joined a team. The guys were there if the paper became dangerous or demanding. Zeke was available if she needed the police. Garrison was there if she needed spiritual counsel for a difficult decision, or a friend to go with her on her trickier The reality was that she had to do most of the paper's biddings, but having Garrison and Zeke when she needed them helped her face the day. This team had been Gary Hobson's gift to her.
So what's up? Zeke asked before scooping some egg with his toast.
Well, the main priority today is two movers getting overcome with smoke at a little museum in the old part of town, Lindsay said getting started on her breakfast.
Zeke sat up strait. The thought of Lindsay involved with a fire made him nervous. He would not let himself acknowledge why.
Garrison knew exactly why he was nervous, he wasn't going to let his friend get hurt in a fire. He lost his dad that way, he wasn't going to lose anyone else. God willing, he hoped he would not have to lose anyone else for a long time. Garrison quickly said a prayer.
Zeke knew better than to talk Lindsay out of going. Even if the paper allowed him to go instead, which was unlikely, Lindsay wouldn't.
Maybe I had better tag along, Zeke said feigning disinterest, I can call for help if you need it
You don't need to
I know you do not need me to go, but what if someone should get hurt. We wouldn't want one of the workman to be injured, quickly replied Zeke.
Lindsay figured out that Zeke was worried, even though he pretended to have more interest in his packet of strawberry jelly. Zeke missed the look that Garrison shot Lindsay. He was amused with his older brother. Zeke always pretended not to really care, but Garrison knew better (especially were Lindsay was concerned). Garrison could not hold back a giggle at his brother's expense. Zeke looked at Garrison as if he could care less if strangling a priest might send him to hell.
So what are the particulars, Lin? Garrison asked sparing his brother from further embarrassment.
Lindsay pulled out the paper and gave them the address. ...the Queen Anne house and museum contained the estate of the famous Chicago Opera singer, Kathleen Hall, known as The Lark of Chicago.' Hall became famous during the 1901 opera season for her exceptionally fine quality soprano voice. Hall, however, disappeared off the opera scene the next year. While living out the rest of her life in her Chicago home, she was considered eccentric in her lifestyle..., read Lindsay.
Eccentric, I think they mean she was crazy, Zeke commented, finishing his breakfast, and wiping his hands on a napkin.
Crazy or not, we have a fire to stop... It says here that she left all of her things to her granddaughter who started the museum. Her great-great niece runs it now. The paper says the crime problem is what is making them move. Lindsay said looking up at Zeke.
Don't give me that look, I am doing my part. I just arrested a guy for multiple murder with a salad spinner, Zeke said defending himself, Don't ask!
Well Father Mac is doing confessions for me today, so we can all head over there together, said Garrison with his trademark grin.
Oh this is going to be interesting. A priest, a cop, and a nurse...we sound like a bad joke, Zeke added sarcastically with a laugh, ...One day they will be calling all of us eccentric.
Garrison rolled his eyes. Lindsay laughed.
Marissa Clark could not help but hear the laughing. At times, the morning meeting of Lindsay, Garrison, and Zeke reminded her of another trio. Memories of her, Chuck, and Gary, made her heart a bit lighter. She missed Gary. He had been a blessing to her life, and his loving selfless nature was still present. Marissa thanked Gary in her heart for what he had done for Lindsay.
Marissa was not the only observer of the three. Peering in the window was a man in his mid thirties. He was wearing a brown leather coat, its collar turned up to block the cold from his ears. He also had on dark gloves, blue jeans, and sneakers. A red knitted scarf was wrapped around his neck. He was observing the scene with a pleased look on his face.
You did a good job, a voice said from behind him. The younger man nodded, while continuing to take one last look in at Lindsay, Garrison, and Zeke.
The man looking in the window turned to face a man in a tan trench coat. This man was in his sixties. An old tweedy sort of hat sat on top of his head. They met smile to smile, and then turned to walk down the street. The younger man looked back once, and smiled again. The two set off down the road....and a small orange cat followed quickly behind.
What in the heck are they going to do with this old crap, Marv? said a large burly man moving a box full of yellowed papers and posters, all while smoking a cigar.
Would you put that thing out, idiot! replied a man just as large, I guess it is going to the opera house. The lady whose stuff that is, I guess, was famous.
Well union rules say it's break time said the first man tossing his cigar into a trash can, and giving the box a toss.
Can't we just fin... said the other man, only to give up and join his coworker. They both left the room in the old house to grab a drink outside in their van, neither one notice than the box they had been moving had fallen over.
Old opera posters unrolled on the floor. Mixed in with the posters were aged photographs, and a very old cloth bound diary.
Many pictures of a young woman dressed in various costumes sitting, or standing, in different poses had been strewed out all over the wood floor. One black and white picture seemed quite unusual. It lay across a turn-of-the-20th-Century opera house poster.
On the poster was The Lark of Chicago in fancy calligraphy. The poster clearly had a sketch of the same young woman whose pictures lay around the room.
The black and white photo was of the pretty young woman at about 28 years of age. In the photo her hair was pulled up in proper early 1900s style. She was posed sitting in a chair with her elbow on a small marble topped table. This sort of pose seemed quite common in the other photos as well, but her props" in the photo were quite odd. Other than the table, and the girl, there were only two other objects. On her lap was a folded newspaper, and sitting on the table was a familiar striped cat.
As the pictures and posters sat..... a plume of smoke began trailing up from the nearby trash can.....
This story is dedicated to the memory of:
If only there was a paper that told the future...
Author's Note:Early Edition, and its characters, do not belong to me. Please do not sue.
This is the last of my Early Edition fan fiction Live Your Life. I thank everyone for their kind comments. I apologize for the, sometimes long, wait. I will be reposting this fan fiction in its entirety for those who hate to sift through the list for all of its parts (the parts will be deleted). I intend to continue Lindsay's story. What did Lindsay, Garrison, and Zeke discover about The Lark of Chicago? What about that attraction between Lindsay and Zeke? These questions will be answered as Lindsay teams up with Zeke and Garrison to find a serial killer!!!!
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mrwiseman@usa.net