TITLE : Mummy Dearest
AUTHOR : Karen Gomes (pyrie@hotmail.com)
CATEGORY : SBR
RATING : R
SPOILERS : Probably
DISCLAIMER : All of the known characters/premises/plots belong to their respective owners. So there.
SUMMARY : A series of bizarre murders lead the VCTF team to Brooklyn, and a strange encounter brings Sam and Bailey closer than ever.
NOTES : Fifth chapter. . . don't know where it'll lead, so sit back and enjoy the ride!
Cheers!
Gomes.
---------------- Mummy Dearest, part 5. ----------------
Brooklyn Museum, New York
While Sam and Bailey had gone to locate Jones's wife, Nathan was having a hard time speaking with Victoria. "Please, Ms. Klunk, it'll just take a minute or two." He tried to reason with the elusive young girl.
"Look," Victoria stopped short after trying to rid herself of him, "I've had enough with all you people begging for money. Let my father and I rest in peace!" She started to become restless.
Nathan put his hands up in defence. "Look, I'm from the FBI." He held out his badge.
"FBI?" Victoria asked wide-eyed.
Nathan's brow furrowed. "Didn't you ever wonder how and why your father was killed?" He asked her slowly.
Victoria paused, then abruptly wiped the tears from her eyes. Her voice was lower, and less riddled with emotion. "Look, the man was an ass - he abused my mother and I throughout his life."
"I thought you were estranged." Nathan looked at her skeptically.
"A person can abuse another without being present in their life." She retorted. "He abused my mother until she succumbed to a mental breakdown two years ago." She looked around and lowered her voice. "I'm glad the bastard's gone."
"So you hadn't seen him since. . ." Nathan took out his notepad.
"Since my mother was put in the Fairchild Institute."
"So you were, what, eighteen when you last saw your father?" Nathan asked.
Victoria nodded. "I was old enough to get my own apartment, but I dropped out of school though." Victoria took a step back. "If you'll excuse me, I must meet with my agent." She began to leave.
"Agent?" Nathan muttered to himself. "Uh, can I ask one last question."
"What?" She asked impatiently.
"All this money," Nathan motioned the building, "for the funding and what- not, and obviously some spent on your wardrobe," he commented on her attire, "is from your father's life insurance?"
Victoria frowned. "I don't think that's any of your concern." She turned and walked towards her agent. Nathan's eyes followed the thin brunette, clad in a black designer dress.
Just then, John appeared behind him. "So, any luck?" Nathan shrugged, still looking at Victoria. "Me neither." John replied. "I couldn't even find Keri Yule in this mess of people."
"Bailey's going to be pissed." Nathan stated.
"Yeah. . . speaking of which, where is our fearless leader?" John asked looking around.
"We have to meet them back at the hotel." Nathan said, and turned to leave.
John sighed. "I hate taking the bus."
***
Jones's Residence, New York
Bailey pulled up to the Jones's residence. It was a small cottage-like house with a white picket fence and two trees adorning the front lawn. They walked up the stone pathway and Sam rang the doorbell.
An average looking woman opened the door. "Yes?"
"Mrs. Jones, my name is Samantha Waters and this is Bailey Malone - can we come in?" Sam asked.
Sandra looked at them. "In regards to what?" She asked, rather coldly.
"We're from the FBI, we'd really like to speak with you." Bailey held out his badge.
Sandra inspected it, and stepped back to let the two agents in. "Please come in."
Sam smiled and Bailey guided her in, his hand on the small of her back. Once inside, Sandra went into the kitchen to fix them some tea while Bailey and Sam sat on the floral-upholstered couch. Bailey looked at the couch and grimaced, causing Sam to giggle.
"It is bad, isn't it?" He grinned.
She got up and looked at the pictures on the wall. Her eyes fell upon a picture of a happy couple. "It's funny, because everyone knows that you can't choose who you fall in love with," Sam stated and suddenly noticed that Bailey was standing right behind her, looking over her shoulder. She turned her head and they locked gazes. Sam could feel his warm breath caressing her lips, and she parted them slowly as her gaze continued to rest on his delectable lips. She found herself drawing towards him but a noise from the kitchen broke her concentration. She cleared her throat and continued her thought, "but it's always odd to see a couple where the woman is taller than the man." She continued staring at the picture that was obviously taken at the Jones's wedding: Corey and Sandra were standing in each other's arm, oblivious to the cameraman. It was so natural that one would assume that they were specifically created for each other.
Bailey moved away from Sam and sat back down on the couch. "Society has deemed the 'norm' Sam. I mean, somewhere - from TV or the movies or whatever, it was said that men have to be taller, stronger, more impulsive than women. Women are the thinkers of the couple." He shrugged. "But it isn't necessarily true - there are exceptions to every rule. It's just 'seems' odd because we see it everyday."
Sam nodded and sat down beside Bailey just as Sandra walked in. "Sorry for the wait, I don't usually drink tea." She smiled, placing a tray on the coffee table and sat down on a recliner placed to the side of the couch. There was an small moment of silence. "So, what can I help you with?" She asked.
"Well, we'd first like to express our condolences about your husband," Sam started, "but we'd just like to ask you a few questions."
Sandra nodded. "I haven't spoken about Corey since his death. . . it's been very hard." She looked down at her ring finger. "He never wanted kids, had no family, so I have nothing to remember him by," she let out a melancholic laugh, "just pictures, oodles of them."
"As long as you remember him in your heart, his memory will live on forever." Sam said sincerely. Bailey looked at Sam sadly and placed a reassuring hand over hers.
"Did Mr. Jones have any enemies?" Bailey asked.
Sandra shook her head. "He was a wonderful man, a hard worker who always gave back to the community. He helped with the local Boyscouts and even volunteered in a Big Brother plan."
"Did he ever have any threats, any complaints against him?"
She shook her head again. "Never." She took in a deep breath. "We were just regular people, wanting to live out our lives together."
Bailey stood up and paced a little. "I don't understand - could he have been at the wrong place at the wrong time?" He asked, leaning against the mantle above the fireplace.
Sam chewed on her lower lip, trying to figure out Corey's role in the murder. "No, he was chosen, and . . ."
"And what?" Sandra asked, perplexed.
Sam shrugged. She looked at Bailey for support, for a solution or an idea. Her eyes kept focusing on his body, stealing glances here and there. She came to the realization that she was always 'checking him out'. Her eyes trailed up his strong chest to his bulging arms, particularly the one that was resting on the mantle: his muscle was flexed and she wanted nothing more than to be enveloped in his strength. Sam blinked away her temptation and her eyes accidentally fell onto a picture beside Bailey. She stood up and walked slowly towards the picture, never removing her eyes from it.
Bailey took a step back; for a second, it looked as if Sam was slowly charging him. After a vicious inner-battle of welcoming her 'advances' with open arms or merely stepping aside, he opted for the latter. His yearning for her had often persuaded him to misinterpret the issues at hand, leaving him looking a fool. "What is it?"
Sam said nothing, but merely picked up the photo. She held it up to Bailey and he removed it from her delicate hands. "It's Klunk."
Sandra stood up. "Yes, delightful girl."
"You know her?" Bailey asked surprised.
Sandra nodded. "Corey volunteered to be her big brother. Terrible past she had, what with her mother's murder and her father's suicide."
Sam's brow furrowed. "Her mother was murdered?"
"Are you sure her father committed suicide?" Bailey asked Sandra.
She shrugged. "I didn't have any reason to believe otherwise. We took the poor dear in, and raised her as much as we could. She 'was' eighteen, and had done most of her growing-up, but we still helped her none the less." She smiled. "I heard she was doing very well - went back to school, even got a scholarship."
"Have you spoken to her recently?" Sam asked, sitting down on the couch.
Sandra nodded and sat down. "She called me a few weeks ago, seemed rather agitated."
"What did she say?" Bailey got out his notepad.
"She said that she was doing well, and wanted to thank Corey and I for all the help." Sandra smiled. "Corey spoke to her, and he did seem a little upset after the conversation." Sandra paused, reflecting on the event. "Yes, he seemed angry."
"Did he say why?" Bailey asked, impatiently.
Sandra shook her head and shrugged. "I didn't press the matter; we sat down and ate dinner in silence. The next few days, things fell back into our normal routine . . . then Corey just didn't come home." Tears started to form in her eyes. "I got a call from the police and . . . and . . ." Sandra stuttered and broke down.
Sam rushed to her side. "Thank you Mrs. Jones, you've been a great help." She put a loose arm over her shoulders. Sam looked up at Bailey who nodded, signaling that they should leave.
"Uh, thank you for the tea and for your time. Is there anyone who visits you, or sees you?" Bailey asked, concerned. "You shouldn't be alone."
"A friend visits me daily," she smiled, "I owe a lot to her."
Sandra bid the agents goodbye and closed her door. Walking back to the SUV, Sam and Bailey were both lost in thought, due to the developments that had arisen. "Is it just me, or are things getting interesting?" Bailey asked with a small smile.
AUTHOR : Karen Gomes (pyrie@hotmail.com)
CATEGORY : SBR
RATING : R
SPOILERS : Probably
DISCLAIMER : All of the known characters/premises/plots belong to their respective owners. So there.
SUMMARY : A series of bizarre murders lead the VCTF team to Brooklyn, and a strange encounter brings Sam and Bailey closer than ever.
NOTES : Fifth chapter. . . don't know where it'll lead, so sit back and enjoy the ride!
Cheers!
Gomes.
---------------- Mummy Dearest, part 5. ----------------
Brooklyn Museum, New York
While Sam and Bailey had gone to locate Jones's wife, Nathan was having a hard time speaking with Victoria. "Please, Ms. Klunk, it'll just take a minute or two." He tried to reason with the elusive young girl.
"Look," Victoria stopped short after trying to rid herself of him, "I've had enough with all you people begging for money. Let my father and I rest in peace!" She started to become restless.
Nathan put his hands up in defence. "Look, I'm from the FBI." He held out his badge.
"FBI?" Victoria asked wide-eyed.
Nathan's brow furrowed. "Didn't you ever wonder how and why your father was killed?" He asked her slowly.
Victoria paused, then abruptly wiped the tears from her eyes. Her voice was lower, and less riddled with emotion. "Look, the man was an ass - he abused my mother and I throughout his life."
"I thought you were estranged." Nathan looked at her skeptically.
"A person can abuse another without being present in their life." She retorted. "He abused my mother until she succumbed to a mental breakdown two years ago." She looked around and lowered her voice. "I'm glad the bastard's gone."
"So you hadn't seen him since. . ." Nathan took out his notepad.
"Since my mother was put in the Fairchild Institute."
"So you were, what, eighteen when you last saw your father?" Nathan asked.
Victoria nodded. "I was old enough to get my own apartment, but I dropped out of school though." Victoria took a step back. "If you'll excuse me, I must meet with my agent." She began to leave.
"Agent?" Nathan muttered to himself. "Uh, can I ask one last question."
"What?" She asked impatiently.
"All this money," Nathan motioned the building, "for the funding and what- not, and obviously some spent on your wardrobe," he commented on her attire, "is from your father's life insurance?"
Victoria frowned. "I don't think that's any of your concern." She turned and walked towards her agent. Nathan's eyes followed the thin brunette, clad in a black designer dress.
Just then, John appeared behind him. "So, any luck?" Nathan shrugged, still looking at Victoria. "Me neither." John replied. "I couldn't even find Keri Yule in this mess of people."
"Bailey's going to be pissed." Nathan stated.
"Yeah. . . speaking of which, where is our fearless leader?" John asked looking around.
"We have to meet them back at the hotel." Nathan said, and turned to leave.
John sighed. "I hate taking the bus."
***
Jones's Residence, New York
Bailey pulled up to the Jones's residence. It was a small cottage-like house with a white picket fence and two trees adorning the front lawn. They walked up the stone pathway and Sam rang the doorbell.
An average looking woman opened the door. "Yes?"
"Mrs. Jones, my name is Samantha Waters and this is Bailey Malone - can we come in?" Sam asked.
Sandra looked at them. "In regards to what?" She asked, rather coldly.
"We're from the FBI, we'd really like to speak with you." Bailey held out his badge.
Sandra inspected it, and stepped back to let the two agents in. "Please come in."
Sam smiled and Bailey guided her in, his hand on the small of her back. Once inside, Sandra went into the kitchen to fix them some tea while Bailey and Sam sat on the floral-upholstered couch. Bailey looked at the couch and grimaced, causing Sam to giggle.
"It is bad, isn't it?" He grinned.
She got up and looked at the pictures on the wall. Her eyes fell upon a picture of a happy couple. "It's funny, because everyone knows that you can't choose who you fall in love with," Sam stated and suddenly noticed that Bailey was standing right behind her, looking over her shoulder. She turned her head and they locked gazes. Sam could feel his warm breath caressing her lips, and she parted them slowly as her gaze continued to rest on his delectable lips. She found herself drawing towards him but a noise from the kitchen broke her concentration. She cleared her throat and continued her thought, "but it's always odd to see a couple where the woman is taller than the man." She continued staring at the picture that was obviously taken at the Jones's wedding: Corey and Sandra were standing in each other's arm, oblivious to the cameraman. It was so natural that one would assume that they were specifically created for each other.
Bailey moved away from Sam and sat back down on the couch. "Society has deemed the 'norm' Sam. I mean, somewhere - from TV or the movies or whatever, it was said that men have to be taller, stronger, more impulsive than women. Women are the thinkers of the couple." He shrugged. "But it isn't necessarily true - there are exceptions to every rule. It's just 'seems' odd because we see it everyday."
Sam nodded and sat down beside Bailey just as Sandra walked in. "Sorry for the wait, I don't usually drink tea." She smiled, placing a tray on the coffee table and sat down on a recliner placed to the side of the couch. There was an small moment of silence. "So, what can I help you with?" She asked.
"Well, we'd first like to express our condolences about your husband," Sam started, "but we'd just like to ask you a few questions."
Sandra nodded. "I haven't spoken about Corey since his death. . . it's been very hard." She looked down at her ring finger. "He never wanted kids, had no family, so I have nothing to remember him by," she let out a melancholic laugh, "just pictures, oodles of them."
"As long as you remember him in your heart, his memory will live on forever." Sam said sincerely. Bailey looked at Sam sadly and placed a reassuring hand over hers.
"Did Mr. Jones have any enemies?" Bailey asked.
Sandra shook her head. "He was a wonderful man, a hard worker who always gave back to the community. He helped with the local Boyscouts and even volunteered in a Big Brother plan."
"Did he ever have any threats, any complaints against him?"
She shook her head again. "Never." She took in a deep breath. "We were just regular people, wanting to live out our lives together."
Bailey stood up and paced a little. "I don't understand - could he have been at the wrong place at the wrong time?" He asked, leaning against the mantle above the fireplace.
Sam chewed on her lower lip, trying to figure out Corey's role in the murder. "No, he was chosen, and . . ."
"And what?" Sandra asked, perplexed.
Sam shrugged. She looked at Bailey for support, for a solution or an idea. Her eyes kept focusing on his body, stealing glances here and there. She came to the realization that she was always 'checking him out'. Her eyes trailed up his strong chest to his bulging arms, particularly the one that was resting on the mantle: his muscle was flexed and she wanted nothing more than to be enveloped in his strength. Sam blinked away her temptation and her eyes accidentally fell onto a picture beside Bailey. She stood up and walked slowly towards the picture, never removing her eyes from it.
Bailey took a step back; for a second, it looked as if Sam was slowly charging him. After a vicious inner-battle of welcoming her 'advances' with open arms or merely stepping aside, he opted for the latter. His yearning for her had often persuaded him to misinterpret the issues at hand, leaving him looking a fool. "What is it?"
Sam said nothing, but merely picked up the photo. She held it up to Bailey and he removed it from her delicate hands. "It's Klunk."
Sandra stood up. "Yes, delightful girl."
"You know her?" Bailey asked surprised.
Sandra nodded. "Corey volunteered to be her big brother. Terrible past she had, what with her mother's murder and her father's suicide."
Sam's brow furrowed. "Her mother was murdered?"
"Are you sure her father committed suicide?" Bailey asked Sandra.
She shrugged. "I didn't have any reason to believe otherwise. We took the poor dear in, and raised her as much as we could. She 'was' eighteen, and had done most of her growing-up, but we still helped her none the less." She smiled. "I heard she was doing very well - went back to school, even got a scholarship."
"Have you spoken to her recently?" Sam asked, sitting down on the couch.
Sandra nodded and sat down. "She called me a few weeks ago, seemed rather agitated."
"What did she say?" Bailey got out his notepad.
"She said that she was doing well, and wanted to thank Corey and I for all the help." Sandra smiled. "Corey spoke to her, and he did seem a little upset after the conversation." Sandra paused, reflecting on the event. "Yes, he seemed angry."
"Did he say why?" Bailey asked, impatiently.
Sandra shook her head and shrugged. "I didn't press the matter; we sat down and ate dinner in silence. The next few days, things fell back into our normal routine . . . then Corey just didn't come home." Tears started to form in her eyes. "I got a call from the police and . . . and . . ." Sandra stuttered and broke down.
Sam rushed to her side. "Thank you Mrs. Jones, you've been a great help." She put a loose arm over her shoulders. Sam looked up at Bailey who nodded, signaling that they should leave.
"Uh, thank you for the tea and for your time. Is there anyone who visits you, or sees you?" Bailey asked, concerned. "You shouldn't be alone."
"A friend visits me daily," she smiled, "I owe a lot to her."
Sandra bid the agents goodbye and closed her door. Walking back to the SUV, Sam and Bailey were both lost in thought, due to the developments that had arisen. "Is it just me, or are things getting interesting?" Bailey asked with a small smile.