Kol Arano.
The latest of many aliases on the missing doorman. Carmen had found her a 'last known' though couldn't say how recent or reliable it was. But it was something. She tapped her foot in impatience as the elevator rose slowly to the eleventh floor. It was still quite early. They could call in some uniforms and head over to the address in Hell's Kitchen right away. They were desperate for a break on the Larkins murder. Finding the doorman would be a real score.
She was tired, she had to admit it, if only to herself. She'd had another bad night. Though this one, at least, she could blame on her trip to Carmel Ridge, she supposed.
And Bobby.
She'd left several messages for him last night after their trip. At first she'd only wanted to talk to him about it all, check that he was okay, that his mother was still okay, that they were okay. But after no answer or return call from him after the third message, she was more than a little pissed.
Well, screw him. Time for work.
The elevator rang open and she strode down the hall toward the office, her heels clicking as she went. She'd taped up her ribs extra tight and was down to just a large band aid on her temple.
She'd had more than enough idling at home this year. She was ready for work.
"Eames!" said Deakins in surprise, "I didn't expect you in today."
"Didn't Goren tell you?" she looked around for Bobby.
Deakins shook his head, "He left about fifteen minutes ago. Wanted to be at Dr. Shendrick's office when she got in. Are you sure you're up to working?"
"I'm fine." Just irritated. "Listen, I've got a 'last known' on the missing doorman. I need a few uniforms to go check it out."
"Maybe you should wait until Goren gets back..."
"Excuse me?" her eyes sparked.
"Calm down, Eames. I'm not slighting you. But you were in the hospital last week..."
"With all due respect, Captain, my calming down is not going to solve this murder. This may be our only shot at this guy. If Goren's gone off to do his thing, so be it. This lead could be stone cold by the time he's finished serenading Marjorie Shendrick."
Deakins looked down his long nose at her. She was right, of course. Didn't mean he had to like it though.
"Fine. Call in what you need. I'll inform Goren when he calls in."
"Yeah, you do that. If he calls in," snapped Alex as she stalked over to place the necessary phone calls.
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She'd held her breath just a bit as Bobby had opened his mother's door the morning before...
She looked about curiously.
It was a pretty room as such rooms go.
Little pink roses on the wall paper. Brimming bookshelves. Art prints on the walls. A pretty coverlet on the hospital bed.
The lady herself was sitting in a recliner before a large window overlooking a small frozen lake with woods beyond. A crocheted afghan tucked around her waist.
And she couldn't have appeared more normal if Central Casting had just sent her over to play a part, right down to the tortoiseshell glasses on her nose.
"Robert!" smiled his mother as they came in.
Her eyes, his eyes, noted Alex, were bright as new pennies.
"Hello, Mom," he said softly and walked over to kiss her gray head.
"Is this the lady detective you told me about?" she asked then.
"Yep," he responded. "Mom, this is Alex Eames."
"Hello, Alex," she smiled and reached out her hand.
"It nice to meet you, Mrs. Goren," smiled Alex in return, taking the frail hand in her own.
"Bobby!" barked the older woman then. "Manners! Take this pretty lady's coat."
He chuckled and obliged.
She gestured Alex to a chair opposite, "Sit, sit..." and proceeded to survey her.
"Well, Alex, you are very brave indeed to come and see a crazy old lady," she twinkled.
Bobby pulled a chair out of the nearby desk, placed it between them, and sat down.
"Oh, I can get you in a choke hold if I need to," responded the ever-dry Alex.
Bobby's eyes widened as he glanced quickly at his mother.
Who had immediately burst into hearty laughter.
"You may call me Margaret. Or, better yet, Meg. Mother had a thing for Little Women. My sister Beth thought for sure she'd die before the age of fifteen," she winked at Alex. "Are those for me?" she pointed to the potted violets Alex held in her lap.
"Absolutely," said Alex, handing them over.
"They're very pretty. Thank you," said Mrs. Goren, as she set them on the sill before her. "And you, Robert? What have you brought me today?" she looked over at her son full of expectation.
Bobby turned to his Burberry laying across the foot of the bed and withdrew the dried fruit from its ample pocket.
"Ah!" exclaimed Mrs. Goren, smacking her lips a bit, "Figs!"
"Californian, not the Sicilian," he assured her.
"Thank heavens," said the older lady as she peeled back the plastic wrap, and popped a fig into her mouth. She closed her eyes for one happy moment and proclaimed them, "Delicious."
She reached out to offer Alex one then.
"Oh, no thanks."
"My mother-in-law would always have those dreadful Sicilian things around," she scowled then. "The Californians are superior by far."
An awkward silence followed, filled only by Mrs. Goren's happy munching.
"I see you are quite a reader, Mrs.— Ah, Meg," said Alex.
She crossed to the bookshelves then, "Grimm? Anderson? I see you have quite a collection of children's literature."
"Mom wrote some of the first feminist essays on fairy tales when she was at Yale," Bobby told her then.
His mother beamed.
"Really? That's very impressive," commented Alex as she continued to survey the collection. "Like mother like daughter, hunh, Meg?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"You are Meg from Little Women. I see here A Child's Garden of Verses among others," she shot Bobby a sardonic eye, "Now I know where the Louis is from."
"Ah, yes," smiled Mrs. Goren. "Well spied, Alex. The Scotsman who tried so hard. No one ever thought him quite good enough though, poor man. Not as deep as Rusk. Trying too hard, they thought. That was Robert Louis Stevenson. I felt he had a few original ideas, however."
Alex stole a glance at Bobby then, who seemed to be studying his hands in his lap with some intensity.
"What about Richard?" asked Alex as she returned to her chair.
They older woman's face darkened immediately.
"What about him?"
Oops, thought Alex, "I was just wondering for whom Bobby's older brother was named."
"Call him Robert, please," sniffed Mrs. Goren. "I dislike diminutives for men. Richard was named for his father."
"How is Room Fourteen doing this week, Mom?" asked Bobby then.
"She is what she always is," dismissed his mother with an irritated wave of her hand. "Perhaps, as a detective, Alex, instead of asking prurient questions about my family life, you could help me solve a small mystery instead..."
"Mom..." interjected Bobby.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Goren, I didn't mean to offend you."
"It's of no consequence."
"What is your mystery?"
"Mom..." Bobby leaned toward his mother then, placing a hand gently on her forearm.
"Leave off, Robert!" she snapped at him. He pulled his hand gently away, turning to look out the window instead.
"My son here, Alex. My son has never wanted to believe anything I say."
Alex noticed the tightening in Bobby's jaw out of the corner of her eye.
"I'm sure that's not..."
"It's hard to believe, I know," the lady interrupted her, "But I assure you, it is true. And a detective, he's supposed to be!"
"Mom..." only the voice now, no physical contact.
"Don't Mom, me, sir," she hissed at him. "Mrs. Jenkins right next door was raped, Robert!"
He sighed and looked at her, "No, Mom. She wasn't. She fell and broke her hip."
"You there, Miss Marple!" she called over to Alex then, "Do you see what I have to endure? The elderly are never believed. And elderly women?" she snorted, "Not a snowball's chance in hell. I could be next, Bobby. Then you would have to call your father and tell him what happened. I'd like to hear that call, I'll tell you."
"Mom, think," Bobby leaned forward further, placing his arms on his knees, lowering his head to look up at her, "Remember how Dr. Jiminez came and explained it to you? It was a broken leg. Not a rape."
Mrs. Goren stared into her son's face for a moment, then shifted uncomfortably, and turned to look out the window.
"Dr. Jiminez, Mom. You trust her. I know you do," he reminded her gently.
They all sat with that for a moment. Until Mrs. Goren sighed and nodded her head ever so slightly.
She turned back to Alex then.
"I'm sorry," she said directly.
Alex nodded and tried to smile.
"So, Alex, where did you go to school?"
"Columbia."
"Robert here went to NYU through the Army plan, but I suppose you know that. Let's see, Criminal Justice, I suppose? Anything else?"
"Literature," said Alex.
Bobby looked at her then.
"I double-majored, actually," she explained
"Hmm," nodded Mrs. Goren. "What was your thesis on?"
"Millay's Second April."
Bobby looked at her again.
"Ah!" Mrs. Goren clasped her hands together in delight, "Wonderful! Wonderful!"
She began quoting then,
"Oh,
little leaves that are so dumb
Against the shrieking city air,"...
Alex finished it for her, careful to ignore Bobby's scrutiny,
"I
watch you when the wind has come,--
I know what sound is there."
She shot Bobby the 'Shut up' look when she finished, but he held no sarcasm for her.
She sighed at herself over this. He never did.
They sat in a more comfortable silence then.
"Bobby, go get us our lunch!" called out his mother suddenly. "I'll have pudding today, please."
"Would you like to come with me?" he asked Alex.
"She'll be fine with me," his mother dismissed him, "Now run along."
Bobby got up to go then, but Alex didn't miss a fleeting look of concern as it passed over him. He closed the door behind him then and began the walk down the hall to the cafeteria.
He popped his jaw as he went. Trying to relieve the TMJ he'd forgotten he had. It always came back at Carmel Ridge.
It could have been worse, he tried to reason with himself, remembering the day she wouldn't talk to Rick or his sister-in-law when they'd come to visit last summer. They'd flown all the way from Seattle and received nothing but silence.
He stepped up his pace a little then, not certain why, and signaled one of the attendants as he stepped into the food hall. The institutional smell of steam plates and canned corn filled his nostrils.
On the way back down the hall, pushing a tray cart before him, he glanced out the window at the still-bright day and thought that he maybe he wasn't going to regret this after all.
Whatever it was.
He amended this immediately though when he looked up and saw Alex standing grim-faced outside his mother's closed door, her navy coat back on.
Shit.
He hurried to her.
"What happened?"
She lifted her chin and smiled for him, "Nothing, Bobby. I think it was just too much company for her for one morning."
"Eames..."
"I have been cooped up for so long, I think I'll go have a walk around. Why, don't you go back in to her, and I'll meet you up front later?"
"What did she..."
"Absolutely nothing. I'll see you in a little while."
She turned away then and headed down the hall.
"Alex..." he called softly.
She turned to see the open pain on his face, his hand on the doorknob.
"Go on," she smiled and turned around again, trying to swallow what felt like a golf ball in her throat.
She heard the door open behind her then.
"Robert, Cleopatra only had a viper in her nest! And you bring..."
And the door closed on the poor woman's quiet sob.
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"Alex!" Deakins called as she was heading to the lockers for a vest.
She stopped and turned to him, "What's up?"
"We just got a fax from that Car Rental Agency in Boston. It seems that our friend David Drew made quite a trip."
"As in from Boston to New York and back again?"
"That would fit, yes."
Dammit.
"Could you have someone bring him in for questioning? I've got to get to Hell's Kitchen for Kol Arano."
"Absolutely. You can question him when you get back."
"Thanks, Captain."
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After the scene with Mrs. Goren, she'd walked out through reception at Carmel Ridge, feeling Julie's daggers as she went.
Poor Bobby.
Poor Meg.
She walked outside and finding a cleared path leading out toward the frozen pond, struck out on it.
By the time she'd circled it and made her way back to the parking lot, Bobby was standing in front of the car waiting for her.
She met his eyes only briefly as she approached. He'd looked away quickly to open the passenger door for her.
She got in and waited for him to come around.
After he got in they sat quietly for a moment, staring out through the front window.
"Is she okay?" she finally asked.
"She's fine. Asleep now," he answered without emotion.
"I'm sorry, Bobby," she said turning toward him and laying her hand atop his.
He pulled it away instantly and started the car.
"So am I," he said as they pulled out of the parking space.
The drive home was quiet.
Alex made occasional half-hearted attempts at discussing the case. All of which Goren answered monosyllabically.
By the time they were in front of her building, they'd been silent for most of an hour.
Now Alex could see. Now she understood.
Moreover she knew that Bobby was kicking himself for taking her at all. For letting her see.
"Don't get out," she said quietly, after he'd stopped and made a move to unbuckle his seatbelt.
She unhooked her own.
"You don't need to open my door," she told him.
He nodded.
"Thank you for coming," he said softly, still avoiding her eyes.
"Thank you for taking me."
She studied his profile for just a moment, then making a decision, leaned over and kissed him gently just on the corner of his mouth.
Then pulled away to study him again.
He looked back at her now. But his face a mask. His eyes over-bright.
"I was mistaken, Eames. About everything. I was mistaken," he told her clearly.
She felt rather than heard this statement. In her stomach, with a whoosh. Like pushing a fist into a pillow.
"I see."
"I shouldn't have taken you. You're my partner. It wasn't appropriate."
She was feeling the cold now in the old way. And eyed the cup holding the dregs of this morning's Mexican chocolate in the cup holder. It would no longer be warm either.
"Why did you take me?" she asked then.
He shrugged, "No reason. Thought you'd like a day out is all. Just a silly idea," he tossed off.
His nonchalance was perfectly convincing.
"Bobby, you've never been silly a day in your life," she told him and got out of the car.
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"Okay, Hahn, you go around to the side window. This place is on the ground floor and I don't want him slipping out if he's in there. Caber, you're my back up. Do we all understand?"
"Yes, ma'am," they said in unison.
"Then let's go get this guy."
She and Caber slowly approached Arano's door, weapons drawn.
She held her badge up to the peephole. Caber knocked.
"Mr. Arano! This is the police. We need to ask you a few questions. Open up, please," she called out.
At that moment the door behind them opened to reveal a little girl in a pink dress. She was sucking on the foot of a Barbie.
"Who are you?" she asked.
Caber turned to address the child just as Arano's door burst open. A man blew out then knocking Caber to the ground and slamming Alex against the wall. He ran for the front door of the building then.
"Hahn! Around front!" she called as she hauled ass after him.
She caught hold of his jacket on the front stoop and jumped on his back. Hahn and Caber were by her side immediately to help her pin him down.
She holstered her weapon, grabbed her cuffs off her belt and snapped them on as the he lay face down on the frozen sidewalk.
"Kol Arano?" she breathed.
"Who wants to know?"
"You're under arrest, Mr. Arano."
"What for?"
"Turning my bruises purple again, dammit! Read him his rights, guys."
Caber and Hahn hauled Arano off to the black and white then.
While Alex stood a moment, her hand at her side, trying to catch her breath.