The evening of the following Saturday, Eames returned home from visiting her family to find a neat brown envelope on her doormat with Hoffman's writing on. He must have spent the whole day translating it, she mused. But then, given that German was Hoffman's native tongue, it probably hadn't been so long or difficult a job for him. She locked up and set the papers down on the small dining table in her apartment, then went into the kitchen. A quick scour of the fridge indicated that improvised chicken salad was on the menu for tonight, and a visit to the grocery store on the agenda for tomorrow. Rooting around, she came across a half-open bottle of Chardonnay near the back of the fridge, which she'd forgotten about. Five minutes later, she took the salad plus Chardonnay (it needed using up) through into the living room, and settled down at the table to read Hoffman's notes.
They consisted of, firstly, a neat introductory page headed 'Translator's Commentary', a transcript of what the papers said followed by a set of footnotes and another sheet labelled 'Translator's Commentary - Concluding Remarks', followed by the copies she'd given him with his own scribblings on at the back. She flipped through the footnotes quickly, and was surprised to see that he'd included two sketches as part of them. They weren't bad, but they were puzzling. One depicted Hoffman's face with raised eyebrows and an amused expression, and the other depicted him with his eyes out on stalks, Warner Bros cartoon-style. Interesting.
The 'Translator's Commentary' began as follows:
"Detective Eames,
It is probably as well that we agreed on an unofficial retainer for this assignment, since, as you will find, this is, almost certainly, not related to the case you described to me. (Did your partner hand these to you by mistake, or were you being curious, my dear? You know what curiosity did to the cat.)"
Yes, she thought. It made a virtue out of a vice, joined the NYPD, worked hard and was promoted to Major Case. Bobby had said that Morelli needed papers translating… but, she realised, he hadn't actually said that the papers he was looking for were those particular papers. That had been a very evasive reply he'd given her… interesting and more interesting. She continued reading.
"However, once I had started translating and gotten more than halfway through, I decided to complete the translation, as you may well find it of interest in solving one particular mystery which you mentioned to me in our discussion earlier. The translation follows; footnotes at the back. I look forward to finding out if you have had any luck with the cake.
Regards,
Fritz Hoffman."
Even more interesting. She turned the page and read Hoffman's introductory notes, in which he said that Bobby's writing had been labelled as such with 'B', and the other writer's as 'F' (for 'female'). It also contained a proviso: "Please note that this is my translation and interpretation, since of necessity a translator must use a little license when translating from one language to another, especially when translating colloquialisms. I would also note that both correspondents' grasp of German grammar and syntax is fluent, but the vocabulary used, especially one or two nouns, is slightly limited. In places the female writer has used English nouns in place of the German. I conclude from this that she is reasonably fluent, but does not speak or write German regularly." She then began reading the translation.
F: We've got to stop meeting like this.
B: I agree.
F: Hope you haven't got anything urgent to get back to. Once Tim starts talking he can keep going for some time.
B: Eames is taking care of the case we're working on.
F: Is she blond, a little shorter than me and wearing a red short-sleeved top? I think I met her outside your office today.
B: That's her.
Ah, that was interesting. Eames suddenly realised that this must be the woman she'd met outside the elevator earlier that day. One of the other conference speakers? Her brain made the connection; the two of them obviously knew each other, and the only female on the surveillance operation had been Sienna Tovitz, the Interpol translator. This must be her, and their meeting must have been very dull indeed. How did she know that Bobby knew German? Perhaps they'd had chance to talk during the surveillance op.
Well, Hoffman was obviously right, these weren't the papers Morelli had given Goren as part of his investigation. Still, Hoffman's notes seemed to suggest that they might shed some light on why Bobby had been acting so strangely recently. She already had a fair idea of why that might be... She read on, to see if her suspicions were justified.
F: It's interesting to see you in a suit. I feel like I'm meeting Detective Goren for the first time, cuffs, gun, badge, notebook, cuffs and all.
B: You mentioned cuffs twice there. And it's pleasant to see YOU in a suit too.
F: Did I? Oops. And thanks.
B: Good flight over?
F: Not too bad. Think my speech went well?
B: Very fluent and you made some good points about the need to gather 'soft' intelligence. Your speaking voice is fine, but you need to pause at the end of your sentences more, and don't be afraid to take up space when you're speaking.
F: Thanks for the advice. Yours went well.
B: Thanks. Heard any more about our mutual acquaintance?
F: Throwing the book at him - everything from murder to treason. It's going to drag on for some time, but Tim's lobbying for as fast a trial as they can manage. As for the other two… his arm healed and he's also facing charges, but not the death penalty or a life sentence. If he co-operates he may get a reduced sentence, which I guess is fair. Our British friend is back in the UK. I may yet end up working with him if this new division goes according to plan. London's a major trafficking route for these organisations.
B: Thanks for the update. You look very thoughtful.
F: That's my expression for 'oh help, oh help, my brain is dying from the overwhelming boredom'.
B: Heh. Got somewhere to stay tonight?
F: Yes… an old friend who lives here. I've stayed with her a couple of times when I've been over here; I have a spare key to her flat. We keep meaning to see the sights, but all I ever seem to see is the inside of offices!
B: Did you manage to get leave?
F: Yes, no problem. I'm here until Wednesday morning, my flight back leaves at eight am.
B: Does she expect you to stay with her?
F: We have an arrangement that we can come and go as we please when we stay with each other. She couldn't get leave herself, but she kind of told me to get out there and see the city and enjoy myself.
B: Good. You're still looking thoughtful, and something tells me you're not as bored as you seem.
F: Oh really? The same back at you.
B: What are you thinking about?
Eames took another sip of her wine, read the reply and suddenly discovered that despite all her years in Vice and as part of the Major Case squad, there apparently were still some things that could cause her to blush with the heat of a thousand suns.
F: Honestly? You. Nine inches deep in me(1).
Eames flipped quickly to the footnotes, and discovered that this corresponded to the picture of Hoffman with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. She realised she was probably pulling the exact same face herself, and decided to get up and pour herself the rest of the wine, to give herself a break from reading. Seriously, did she need to read any more? She'd already got the message loud and clear, and it wasn't exactly unexpected. They'd obviously done a lot more than talk to each other over that weekend. Although, reflecting on Bobby's recent air of distraction, even wistfulness, it had perhaps been somewhat more than just a one night thing.
She wished she could meet this Sienna Tovitz for more than a few seconds, since anyone who had that much of an effect on her hardly-inexperienced partner was clearly no mere simpering female. That, and she got points from Eames for boldness and assertiveness. Evidently not a woman to hold back, or be overawed by the overall charming-Goren effect. She wondered again if she really needed to read any more…
She returned to the dining table, and looked longingly at the translation. Hoffman had spent a lot of time on it, after all. It would be rude to repay all that effort by not reading to the end. But then again, Bobby would be mortified if he found out she'd read it… but equally then again, he really should know better than to leave sensitive documents lying around where absolutely anyone could pick them up (even if they were in German, which hardly anyone in their office but he could read). Well, just one more sentence. She'd allow herself that.
She read on, and burst out laughing. Oh, that was such a typical reply for him…
B: Nine inches? That's very precise. Did you measure it while I was asleep? (And, not that I am not flattered, but I think you may be exaggerating.)
F: I acknowledge that this is an estimate based on data from previous experiences with the, ah, item under discussion. I will admit that I was not in a rational and dispassionate state of mind at the time that this data was collected. Possibly further gathering of data is required.
B: This may prove somewhat tricky given that we're here for another few hours… unfortunately. Otherwise I would be glad to assist in your… research.
The next paragraph was laid out in the form of a list, and had a footnote number attached at the bottom. With the hypnotised fascination of someone observing a car-crash, Eames read to the end:
F: You're a man interested in constructing theories, and you may therefore wish to be aware of the following facts:
1. I'm wearing very high heels and a
skirt,
2. These are stockings not pantyhose,
3. By observing
the agenda, I notice that we break for coffee in five minutes,
4.
By observing several previous incidents, I can confidently state
that, given the effect your physical presence has on me, five minutes
after that, I will be in the bathroom coming so hard that I will
probably have to stick my hand in my mouth to prevent a repeat of a
certain embarrassing incident I am sure we both recall only too well
(no Andrew around to run interference this time, I fear…)
I'd prefer not to be alone when this happens.
Your call.(2).
She flipped through to the footnotes, and found that this footnote did indeed correspond to the little cartoon of Hoffman with his eyes popping out on stalks. As if on strings, her own eyes were drawn back to the transcript, and she read Bobby's reply:
B: The thought occurs that there may be an obstacle in the way of this proposed experiment…
F: They have tie-sides.
The next part had been written with such force that the pen had nearly gone through the paper:
B: You may wish to be aware of
the following facts:
1. Go out of this room, through the double
doors straight ahead, down three flights, go right to the end of the
corridor and through the door on the left, and turn left straight
after that, and there's a small unisex bathroom there that no-one
uses except the janitor, when he wants to read Sports Weekly in
peace.
2. The janitor does not start work for another two
hours.
3. I have a spare key to that bathroom.
4. My hands are
bigger than yours.
5. Now would be an extremely good time
to collect data.
F: He's coming to the end, we'd better look interested. I'll meet you in the bathroom in five.
B: HELL YES!
She burst out laughing. Oh, Bobby… here the discussion between the two of them ended, and she dragged her imagination firmly away from what must have happened next. The next part was much shorter, and, she couldn't help noticing, had been written by both of them in a much looser and more relaxed hand.
F: Well, that was…. Highly productive in terms of gathering data. If not in terms of my being able to stay awake. You know what I'm like when I've just… sated an appetite. Elbow me if I start snoring.
B: Do you think that any more research is indicated?
F: I have the next four days free for experiments…
B: Prepare to be overwhelmed by data.
No more followed this last, and Eames turned to the final page of footnotes, headed "Translator's Commentary - Concluding Remarks":
"Detective Eames:
I hope this is of use to you, and would like to make the following points in conclusion:
1.
This is by far the most interesting translation I've ever done for
the NYPD,
2. If the mystery we're trying to solve is that of
why your partner has dark circles under his eyes and a general air of
smugness, I may possibly have found the crucial evidence… glad to
have been of assistance.
3. If you find it, please arrange for
delivery of cake to the James Grainger building, East 67th Street,
for the attention of Marta Hoffman, with love from Fritz.
Thank you, my dear Detective Eames, and Marta and I hope to see you again soon.
Yours, Fritz Hoffman."
She grinned. Yes, the Mystery of the Distracted Detective had certainly been resolved, all right. She reshuffled the papers together, still grinning, and checked that the originals were still safe in her purse. As she checked, she suddenly came across a page that she'd overlooked before. It was folded up and tucked down the back of the plastic wallet, which was why she'd not seen it before.
It was a sketch of a young woman, done in Biro on lined notepaper. The redhead - Sienna Tovitz - was the woman she had met yesterday in One Police Plaza, she realised, studying the face closely. Well, that confirmed her suspicions. She studied the picture closely.
At first, it appeared to be simply a sketch by a man physically fascinated by a young woman. The way he'd drawn her, how he'd carefully sketched in her rounded hips and narrow waist, emphasised by the skirt-and-blouse combination she was wearing, high heels emphasising her legs, full, high breasts apparent though her blouse, which was unbuttoned just a little; if she looked closely, she could just see a tiny suggestion of lace against the bare skin of the young woman's chest. He'd given her glossy hair - well, that was accurate, she allowed - and if you looked closely at the skirt, you could see the button where her stockings fastened on.
But if you looked closely at the face, it was an unusual expression he'd given her, not the alluring smile of a temptress. No, there was something oddly familiar about that thoughtful expression, something that reminded her of someone they both knew well…
Deakins?
That was such an incongruous thought Alex stared at her wineglass for a few seconds, wondering how strong the wine was. But yes, if she looked carefully, there was something Deakins-like about the thoughtful expression on the woman's face, the slightly enigmatic smile. Look at it again, observe the thought in those eyes, the slight tension in her legs and arms, and you could see that she was weighing up what she'd just heard, about to stand up and declare what should be done. Considering the slightly humorous aspect to her expression, she could just imagine this young woman saying, to borrow one of Deakins' famous remarks, Well, could you find out for me, please?
Perhaps that sense of humour was what interested Bobby? Certainly you'd need a good sense of humour to spend any length of time with him and still be on speaking terms… they'd been together for over 24 hours on the surveillance operation, she remembered, and were evidently still on more than speaking terms… Her eyes flitted down the page, and saw that he'd written a caption beneath the sketch.
He'd written, simply …poised…. and yes, she could see what he was getting at. This was someone poised, both physically and mentally. Someone young, but not fresh-out-of-college young. Someone with some years' experience, about to take the next step, take on responsibility, spread the wings that had been developing over the past few years, leave behind childhood once and for all and confidently launch herself out into the next stage of her life.
And Alex Eames, who knew her partner very well, caught just an echo of his thoughts at the time of sketching this snapshot of his lover: I don't want to be the one who screws that up. She smiled, ruefully. Yes, that was like him, too. She sighed on her partner's behalf; this might not be love - not yet - but it might well be the early stages, if he was already thinking in terms of the future.
Still pondering what she'd just learned, Eames walked over to her apartment window and leaned her forehead against the glass. The view wasn't great, but if you stood at one end and turned your head slightly, you could just get a nice view of the street leading away into the distance, people shopping, walking, cycling, jogging… New York's lifeblood, with the sun setting over it. She sipped the last of her wine and contemplated the view, feeling, as she often did, like the city's protector, and also feeling a great surge of affection for her home city and its people.
Bobby was out there somewhere, she mused, entertaining his new girlfriend… she raised her glass in a silent toast to him, and smiled. She was glad he was happy, even if perhaps only for the moment, and reflected that perhaps it was time she made another effort to find herself a mate. She liked her solitude, but now and then it would be good to have a male presence by her side, to share evenings like these. Heck, if Bobby could do it, she sure as hell could too. She knew that no matter what, she'd always have his friendship and his presence in her life was something she wouldn't change for the world. She smiled again, finished her wine, and went to bed.
