Author's Note: For the sake of this writing, Alex's deceased husband will be referred to as Michael. Why? Well, frankly I don't know his name and I've always liked the name Michael, so there you go.
Saturday or not, there has been a murder which means there is still paperwork to be completed and reports to make before Alex can resume her now shortened weekend. Deakins has been called in to One Police Plaza too because there will need to be a statement to the press – and because the mayor has ordered them to be there as a special favor to the Markham family. To bring him up to speed, the detectives adjourn in his office, Bobby assuming his normal seat by the window and Alex sitting opposite him, trying not to notice the cheerful rays of sunshine that creep in behind him through the blinds. She feels like a child waiting for the school bell to ring on a Friday afternoon and the caffeine from her morning cup of tea has long since worn off, prompting her stomach to remind her that she hasn't had lunch yet either.
From where he's perched on the corner of his desk, the captain also looks like he could use a jolt of caffeine and Alex can tell that he hates the situation he's in. Markham is a local celebrity and the gory details of the crime will give the press much to print in the coming days, which will make their job of finding the killer that much harder and puts Deakins in the middle of a war of information. She doesn't envy him the task of fielding a sea of questions that have no answers as of yet; questions that come from the press, the mayor, fellow detectives, and even some that may come from she and Bobby. How he keeps everything straight is beyond her.
"Would it be too much for you to tell me that this was just a robbery gone bad?" Deakins wants to know, his tone indicating that he already knows the answer to the question. His weathered face is tired the way it is during the workweek – he hasn't been able to enjoy much time off either.
"From everything we saw, murder was the motive," Alex tells him apologetically. Just once, she'd like to tell the captain that his theory holds water - that a case is just as it appears - and see how he reacts. She suspects, however, that the shock might kill him.
"Somehow I knew you'd say that," he shakes his head. "So what are we thinking here?"
"Her purse was stolen and the door was jimmied, but the body was tucked carefully into bed, like a child," Bobby steps in. He's resting his elbows on his knees and has clasped his hands together, index fingers extended to make a resting place for his chin. It's his thoughtful pose. "Whoever killed her cared about her very much and didn't relish the task. The robbery was just a cover to throw us off."
"A lot of valuable items were left behind," Alex thinks back to the clothes Bobby mentioned. "And the apartment was cleaned before the killer left because there was no visible blood anywhere except where the body was found, which was not where she was killed. We're waiting for forensics to tell us where the actual murder took place."
"So why would anyone want to kill Amy Markham?" Deakins throws up his hands. "Everything I've ever heard about the girl says she was practically a saint – she graduated top of her class from Wharton, worked at the biggest PR firm in the city, and was marrying the golden boy of New York real estate. If her sister had been killed, at least we could blame it on some angry crackhead she put away."
Alex and Bobby took the time to gather some additional information about the Markham family before the captain's arrival through a quick Internet search and Alex takes the opportunity to add layers to the framework he's just assembled – layers that she knows will completely alter its shape and complicate their case further.
"Actually, we found out that Amy and Keith have only been a couple - and engaged - for a month," Alex tells him. "But what's more interesting is that before they were together, he and Abby Markham were an item for five years."
"So you think she was killed by her jealous sister?" Deakins looks perplexed. The brotherhood that makes up the police department never allows officers to suspect their coworkers when crimes are committed - which is not to say that cops are never guilty of breaking the law, but rather shows how deep loyalty of those in blue runs. True to this behavior, Deakins is obviously having a hard time pinning this one on Abby Markham, even in theory.
"Not necessarily," Bobby shakes his head and holds up a hand to indicate he's about to share something useful too. "We also learned that Andrew Markham has a history with illegal gambling and that the last two times he was picked up, his twin sister Amy bailed him out."
"So you think that he killed her because she wouldn't loan him money to cover his debts?" Deakins tries another tactic.
Both detectives shake their heads and Deakins now looks completely flummoxed, ultimately spouting in frustration. "Then what are you saying? Do you have any suspects at all on this case, or should I just tell the press that Dr. Donald Markham's daughter was murdered on the eve of her wedding and, gosh darn it, we just don't know who did it?"
"That's a pretty good start," Bobby rises and shrugs his shoulders. Alex knows he doesn't do this to purposely annoy the captain, but rather because all sarcasm is lost on Bobby when his mind is busy whirring over the details of a new case.
"Very funny, Goren," Deakins frowns and Alex can't help but smirk, just a little. "Come on, people – give me something to work with. Markham is big news. He's not only helped other people's kids deal with everything from drugs and phobias to wetting the bed, but he raised his three children alone after his wife died. He has his own segment on the Today show, for crying out loud! 'No comment' isn't going to cut it on this one."
"We'll know more after the autopsy and when forensics gives us their report," is all Alex can tell him.
"Great," he fumes. "I have the dead daughter of a prominent psychologist but no suspect and no motive – and for this I came in on a Saturday."
Alex stands now too and she and Bobby both move towards the door, sympathetic to his position but in a hurry to resume their own weekends nonetheless.
"I want Abby Markham's autopsy results first thing on Monday," Deakins calls after them.
They turn in unison and speak together: "Amy Markham."
Deakins throws up his hands again and mutters to himself. "Abby, Amy – there are twenty-six letters in the alphabet and the Markhams couldn't get past A!"
Alex chuckles and she senses that beside her Bobby is smiling too as they make their way to the elevator and out of the building.
***
For all of her eagerness to be off-duty and free to do what she likes, however, Alex soon finds herself at home – alone – in her comfiest pair of sweats watching a movie on cable. The old Alex – the Alex of the "BG" era – would have called up a friend or two or six and gone out to a movie or a club. (Of course, the old Alex would already have plans for her Saturday night in the first place – a date or a night out with the girls – but this is present-day Alex, who is perfectly accustomed to curling up on the couch with a mug of tea and a snack.) What's more, present-day Alex doesn't know who she'd call if she wanted to go out anyway. She hasn't dated anyone since early in her pregnancy when she went out with Terry, a banker who was interesting but intimidated by her job and impending surrogacy. And by this time of day, she knows that most of her female friends are spending the weekend with their husbands and children anyway.
Even Bobby Goren has plans, she realizes. Granted, it's his weekly visit to see his mother, but they're plans nonetheless. And, if she knows Bobby – which she does, and quite well – he'll swing by the little Italian place around the corner from his apartment on his way home and flirt with the waitress who's always giving him extra breadsticks and batting her eyelashes at him. Alex gives the flirting routine another few weeks, then she figures he'll take the waitress – Gina? Is that her name? – out on a few dates (probably to a gallery opening or two) and that will be the end of things. Afterwards, he'll continue to eat at the little bistro and, with the sort of grace that only Bobby possesses, he and Gina will remain amiable and probably resume flirting, but, like the rest, nothing will ever come of the two of them. When you get right down to it, Bobby spends too much time living in his head and relationships (like plants) require the fresh air and sunlight of the outside world.
He's still having a more active social life than you, Eames, Alex thinks, using her last name to chide herself. And what's worse is that you know him well enough to live vicariously through him. We've got to get you over this hump and back out there.
And yet, as she begins to channel surf following the movie's credits, she is suddenly struck by the notion that, while she's well-versed in how to get herself "back out there" – after all, she did it after Michael died - she isn't sure what she wants when she arrives. She knows what the plan was, way back when – the husband, the kids, and the job - but now that it hasn't panned out, she wonders if it's still what she's looking for.
And if that isn't it, where does that leave her?
***
The forensics report appears on Alex's desk first thing Monday morning and reveals that Amy Markham was killed in the hallway, then moved. This news is unremarkable, though helpful, and things don't get really interesting until she scans the autopsy report. Alex reads it over with raised eyebrows – twice, just to make sure she's read everything correctly - before passing it across her desk to Bobby, who tilts his head to the left in a crystal clear question: What did they find?
"Looks like Amy Markham wasn't quite the saint she was made out to be," she tells him with the knowing smirk of a longtime cop who knows that no one is ever just as they seem. "She was pregnant."
His eyebrows arch in surprise. "How far along?"
"Not far enough to show in her wedding dress, I'm guessing," Alex replies dryly.
He runs a thoughtful hand over his perpetually stubbled jaw. "A shotgun wedding. Kind of an outdated concept, but I suppose if your father is Donald Markham you wouldn't want to make headlines by having a child out of wedlock. It also explains the break-up between Abby and Keith McMillan."
"I'd break up with him too if he slept with my sister," Alex tells him off-handedly, her eyes scanning another form as she speaks.
Bobby's eyebrows lift again and he tilts his head to the right, a pondering pose. "The question is, would you kill her for sleeping with him?"
Alex puts down the form and looks him in the eye. "My sister and I shared clothes, the family car, and a bedroom but we never shared boyfriends. If she'd stolen one of mine, I'd be pretty upset."
"Upset enough to commit murder?" he repeats pointedly.
"Well," she begins, "I wouldn't – but I can't say the same for Abby Markham. She told me that she gives as good as she gets – and there was definitely something going on between she and McMillan on Saturday."
Bobby leans back in his chair. "Yeah, I saw that. They were making a conscious effort to ignore each other."
"You think we should find out just how upset Abby was over the whole thing?" Alex asks him.
He nods his assent and rises to grab his overcoat from the hook behind him. Alex puts on her blazer while he throws a few pieces of paper into his battered notebook and then they're off to Abby's apartment – the sight of which causes Alex to let out a low, impressed whistle as she parks the Explorer in front of the building. "I know she isn't paying for this on a cop's salary."
"She's probably not the one paying for it," Bobby reminds her as he climbs out of the passenger seat.
"My dad was in the wrong line of work," is Alex's comment as she locks the doors and follows him into the impressive lobby.