Forever Knight
Dancing The Knight Away
" … Eighty … Ninety … Ninety five … One Hundred. "( And may you choke on every red cent of it, you slimeball) Amanda Cohen handed the stack of bills to Jerry Beardsley, the Captain of the 75th precinct.
"Thank you ever so much, Amanda, my dearest. " Beardsley said sarcastically as he pocketed the cash. "And if you and your … boys and girls ... from the 96th ever want to get shellacked again, just give me a ring. My ... men and women and I ... will be more than happy to oblige you."
There had been a 'friendly' rivalry between the 75th precinct and the 96th for approximately eight years now. Ever since Jerry Beardsley had boasted that he had the best precinct in the Metro system. Naturally, Matt Foreman, the Captain of the 96th at the time, had challenged that statement. Amanda Cohen took up the gauntlet when she took over as Captain. So far, the score was heavily tipped in favor of the 75th.
"Damn stuck up SOB's! The whole lot of them." Vera Williams groused as the group from the 96th precinct left the Old West Bar and Grill. Barely noticeable was the fact that her left hand had one finger raised. And it wasn't the one that proclaimed that the Leafs were number one. This time the 75th had challenged them to a mechanical bull riding contest. How were they to know that the new transfer from the Saskatoon PD to the 75th was a three time rodeo champion bull rider.
"They think they're so goddamn good at everything." Jed 'Mace' Terrence, the leader of the 96th precinct's SWAT team, added. "I did manage to stay on that gawdawful thing for the eight seconds, after all."
"But it's supposed to be eight consecutive seconds, not total seconds in three tries." Cohen corrected. "All in all, I think we did pretty well considering they had a ringer on their team. I consider this a definite moral victory."
"Moral victory, shmoral victory. I'd love to rub their collective condescending noses in the agony of defeat. Just once." Vera added. "So far, they've beat us at just about everything. Baseball ... hockey ... basketball. I mean, just because their Detective Lowell auditioned for the Raptors ... "
"Don't forget the Chili cook off for the Widows and Orphans fund last year. Their stuff practically ate through the bottom of the pot, thanks to Officer Gonzales." Officer Ian McIntyre chimed in.
"We could have taken them in bowling. The schmuck that replaced Brian Sykes said that he could roll the ball like a Cruise missile. Providing the Cruise missile was launched by the Three Stooges, that is. He threw a mean ball all right. The only trouble was, his aim was so bad a blind man could have done better. I think his highest frame was a seven. And that was only because the ball bounced off the backboard and picked up two more pins before the barrier came down." Detective Pete Southerland said dejectedly. "Of course, they didn't count in the official score."
"We did beat them in Twister." McIntyre spoke up.
"Big whoop. That's a children's game. Practically anybody can play it. Doesn't take any real talent, just some double jointedness." Sergeant Schimmel reminded them. "We won, but it was a costly victory. Remember, Londigan spent the next three months at the chiropractor's office every Tuesday and Thursday after he managed to get all three green spots at the same time. His back was never the same after that."
"I know something we might be able to beat them at." Don Schanke piped up.
"What's that?" Vera asked.
"Ballroom dancing."
"You're joking. Right?"
"No joke. I'm not bragging or anything, but when Myra and I were dating, we were pretty hot on the dance floor. In fact, she used to teach part time at Arthur Murray's. That's how I met her. She was giving a demo at the Academy when I was a cadet there. She asked for a volunteer and I ... well, from the first time I took her in my arms, I knew she was the one for me. I was never so glad that Grandma Gencalli insisted that I take dancing lessons when I was a kid, as I was that day. We moved like we were one. Still do." Schanke rubbed his fingers on his shoulder and then blew on them. "I'll bet none of ... them … can tango like Myra and me."
&&&&&&&&&&
July, 1981
Don and Myra stood in the middle of the floor of the Crystal Ballroom as the music faded away. Along the edges, the patrons were applauding wildly. Don had to admit, this was the best performance that he and Myra had given in the year that they had been doing exhibition dancing. It was only a hobby. He had graduated from the academy and had been assigned as a beat cop at the 35th precinct. Myra was working as a nursing assistant at Toronto General. Almost every week they were doing exhibitions or competitions somewhere in the area. They even managed to win several of the contests.
"Ladies and gentlemen." The voice came over the public address system. "The staff of the Crystal Ballroom is happy to announce that the winner of the best all around couples competition is Donald Schanke and Myra Bernson." Seconds later, the Master of Ceremonies came out with a huge trophy cup, a bouquet of roses and carnations, and an envelope.
"You know, you two are really good." The presenter said as he handed them the check for $200. "You should think about turning pro. You two could give John Travolta or that other guy a run for their money."
&&&&&&&&&&
"Why not? Why don't we turn pro?" Myra said as they drove to her apartment. "We could take a couple of years off and tour the country. I'm sure there's a lot of talent agents that would be happy to give us well paying dates."
"And maybe you should talk to your manager at the dance studio before you go and quit your day job. I had a very long talk with her. You know what she told me?" Don answered. "She said professional dancing doesn't pay diddly squat unless your name is Astaire, or Bolger, or Swayze, or something like that. She said that this is the reason so many of the instructors are only working part time there. Even the ones that are there fulltime have a rough go of it. But at least they do have a steady income. Even if it is only barely above poverty level. Professional ballroom dancers aren't even that lucky. They're at the bottom of a very long food chain of performers. If they're lucky ... Lucky, mind you ... they just might make enough to disqualify themselves for welfare. I don't want that to happen to us. Let's just leave it as it is. Dancing for the fun of it. This way, if we do get anything in prize money it's so much gravy on the train."
"And why were you talking to Lori Kellinger in the first place?" Myra asked.
"To see if there was any future in professional dancing. I was thinking along the same lines you were. Now that I know there isn't, it makes my next question a whole lot easier."
"What question is that?"
He pulled the car into a small park. He opened the passenger door and escorted her to a nearby park bench. He seated her and knelt on one knee in front of her. "I was planning to do this with all the bells and whistles." He said shyly. "But I haven't been able to find just the right bells ... or the perfect whistles either. So, here goes." He cleared his throat and reached into his pants pocket. He pulled out a small box and opened it. "Myra Bernson." He intoned solemnly. "I might not have said it as much as I should have this past year, but I love you with all my heart and soul. I can't imagine going through life without you by my side. Would you ..." He cleared his throat again. " ... do me the honor ... " He swallowed loudly. " ... of becoming my wife?" He took out a delicately carved band with a single diamond of maybe a quarter carat set in it. "What I'm trying to say is ... Will you marry me?"
Myra was silent for a few minutes. She knew that she and Don had fallen head over heels in love, but she hadn't expected this. Not yet, anyway. True, they had talked about getting married. Someday.
"Yes." She said softly
"I know it's not much, but on a rookie cop's salary, it's all I can afford. Don't worry, though. Someday, I'll get you the biggest, sparkliest, classiest diamond ring in all of Canada. All you have to say is yes."
"I just did, Donny."
"You won't regret it, Myra. I guarantee. I know there'll be rough times. Everybody has them, but together we can weather anything. You're the most important thing that ever happened to me, and you always will be."
"Donald George Schanke. Listen very carefully. Yes ... I ... Will ... Marry ...You."
"You don't have to answer right now. Take your time. I don't want to rush you into anything."
"Don! I said ... YES!"
Yeah. You did, didn't you?" The grin went way past his ears.
"Yes, I did." Her grin matched his.
He pulled her into his arms and Donald Schanke and Myra Bernson danced until well after dawn to the music only they could hear.
&&&&&&&&&&
Present
He held the dip until the music stopped. "Well?" He asked the officers gathered in the cleared area of the precinct gym. "What do you think? Do we have a winner or do we have a winner." He gloated. He practically swaggered over to the shelf to turn off the CD player.
"You know, Schank." Nick Knight, his partner, said as the applause subsided. "I think this might be it. I've never seen anything that polished in almost a cen ... in a very long time."
"Thanks, partner." Don Schanke turned to Myra. "See, honey. I told you we still had it." He gave her a hug.
"Of course we still have it, Donny. We've always ... had it and we always will ... have it. That's what makes us so great together." She kissed him solidly, to the whistles and catcalls from the assembled crew.
"I'd better call Beardsley and get this challenge moving." Captain Amanda Cohen said. "It'll be a real pleasure beating the pants off them."
&&&&&&&&&&
Don Schanke's face was dragging on the floor as he walked into Amanda Cohen's office a few days later.
"Detective." The Captain said. "What's wrong? You look like you just lost your last friend. There isn't any trouble between you and Knight, is there?"
"No, Captain. Everything's fine between me and Nick. That's not why I'm here."
"Is this about the Blaine case? Because if it is, don't worry. According to the Crown Prosecutor's office, Lazlo confessed everything and has indicated that he will plead guilty."
"That's not it, either." Don cleared his throat several times. "What I want to ask you … I mean is there … This ain't easy … "
"Come out with it, Detective. I haven't got all day."
"Okay. I guess the easiest way is just to say it. Is there any way you can call off the bet with the 75th?"
"Call it off? But why? You and Myra are a shoo in to win. According to my spies, they don't have anybody over there who even comes close."
"Well … It's like this … " His voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "Myra can't do it."
By now, a crowd had gathered at the door to the office.
"Can't … You mean she doesn't want to do it?" Mace asked.
"Oh no. She wants to do it with everything she's got. She can't do it. Literally."
"And why is that, Detective?" Cohen continued.
"Well ... You see ... Yesterday, she was taking down the drapes in the living room. She does that every three months or so and sends them to the cleaners. They're damask silk, so she doesn't … "
"Cut to the reason." McIntyre prompted. "What does that have to do with the two of you dancing?"
"I'm getting to that. She was up on the ladder, but instead of moving it to get to the next panel, she tried to reach it from where she was." His face contorted into real pain. "And she ... she …sort of … sort of ... fell."
His face brightened as he continued. "Don't worry though, the doctor at the emergency room said that it wasn't a bad break. Her ankle was just chip fractured, and she should be out of the cast in about six weeks. The only thing is, it would be just about impossible to do the kinds of moves that we'd need to do with a pound and a half of fiberglass wrapped around your left leg."
"Can't you find someone else to dance with?" Vera Williams asked. "I'd be happy to volunteer. I was a pretty good dancer in high school."
"Thanks, Vera. I appreciate the thought, but Myra and I have been dancing together so long we know each other's moves instinctively. It would take too long to teach somebody else those moves. And with the competition just a little over a month away, there isn't that much time."
"Isn't there anyone else who knows how to dance?"
There was a long silence as everyone focused on one person.
"Why is everyone staring at me?" Nick Knight asked, backing slightly toward the door.
"Come on, Nick. You can do it." Mace answered.
"Yes, Knight." Cohen added. "We all saw you and Doctor Lambert at the Charity Ball last March. The two of you looked pretty impressive to me."
"Yeah, Nick. You gotta do it." Schanke cajoled. "If anyone can take our place, it's you and the Doc."
"Well … I …"
"Good. It's all settled." Amanda Cohen said. "I'll inform Jerry Beardsley of the change."
&&&&&&&&&&
"We're going to be doing WHAT?" Natalie Lambert shrieked at Nick.
Nick threw his hands in front of his face and ducked as a manila folder barely missed his head. It was a good thing that Natalie was not in the middle of an autopsy when he stopped at the morgue to tell her. Who knows what she might have thrown at him. Somehow the thought of being struck with someone's liver or intestines was not especially appealing to him at this time. Or at any time, for that matter.
"We're going to be dancing in the competition with the 75th precinct. It wasn't exactly my idea. I was sort of forced into it. Like I told you, Myra broke her ankle and so she and Don can't do it. I know you dance well, and I think with some coaching, we might be able to pull it off.
"You know, I think we just might have an outside chance, too. I have to admit, I was, and I still am, a pretty good dancer."
&&&&&&&&&&
1988
Natalie watched as the newlyweds took their customary first dance. She had to admit that her brother Richard and his new bride Sarah made a good couple. They had to overcome some major problems to get to this point. It was only their love for each other that saw them through their hardships. He had met Sarah through mutual friends at university and it was love at first sight.
The Lamberts and the Prestons were definitely from two different worlds.
Sarah Preston had grown up in the lap of luxury. Her family was one of the most prestigious families in Toronto, if not the entire province. Her father was President and CEO of Preston, Dewey, Jenkins, Philbert, and Associates, one of the most respected brokerage firms in Eastern Canada. Her mother was almost universally acknowledged as the head of the Toronto social community. In addition to an impressive mansion that sat on three acres in a gated community in York, they owned a summer house in the Bahamas, and a beachfront cottage on Martha's Vineyard.
The Lamberts, on the other hand, were definitely from the wrong side of the tracks. Although her great grandmother had been comfortably well off, the current generation barely survived from hand to mouth. After their parents died in an automobile crash, Richard and Natalie had been raised by their maternal grandmother, a barely literate Hungarian immigrant, who worked nights as an office cleaner.
Natalie had graduated medical school on a series of scholarships and grants, and had worked nights, weekends, and summers as a lab technician at Toronto General to pay expenses.
Richard worked his way through law school as a legal clerk, a pizza delivery boy, and as a waiter at the 360 Restaurant. Occasionally all three at the same time.
"At least he's not dancing all over her feet." Sarah's aunt, Janice Preston said to someone. At seventy three, she was the clan matriarch, and a spinster as well. In addition, she was probably the most bigoted of all the Preston clan. She definitely looked down her nose at anyone who, in her opinion, was beneath her. Which included nearly all of the rest of humanity. With the possible exception of the Queen and the Archbishop of Canterbury. It definitely included the Lamberts.
Natalie couldn't see who she was talking to, but it was obvious that the remark was meant for her to hear. And it was loud enough that nearly everyone else in range heard it as well. "It's a good thing that at least someone from … that line ... can do something other than polka and guzzle beer."
"POLKA AND BEER!" Natalie fumed. Her face reflected her inner feelings. "If that's what she thinks of us, I ought to just ..." Anyone nearby would have seen the steam coming out of her ears.
"Nattie." Richard stage whispered as he came alongside her. "Be a good girl. Don't do anything rash."
"Don't worry, Brother Dear. I'm not going to do anything to spoil your big day. I'll be a good girl. I promise I won't make a scene ... or deck Auntie Janice." Nat whispered back. ( Even though the old biddy more than deserves it. )
"That's being a good sister." Richard and Sarah resumed their waltz around the floor, now joined by the rest of the reception guests.
"I think I know a way to make her eat her words." Natalie whispered to her date. " It's a good thing you talked me into taking that filler class at university. Contemporary Dance. We might as well get something out of it besides four credit hours. And nothing would give me more pleasure than rattling the old sourpuss's cage. Let's show them just what we ... " she made quotation marks with her fingers. " ... 'lower species' ... can do. That is if you are willing."
"I talked you into that class? You practically forced me to take it." Dan Riley said. "But that's neither here nor there. I agree with what you said. I think the old spoilsport needs to be cold cocked, too. But this way will be a lot more fun. And a lot safer, too. Let's do it."
"This is what I have in mind ... "
When they had finished roughing out their plan, Dan went to the leader of the combo and whispered something. Moments later, the booming opening of 'Shall We Dance' from the 'King and I' came over the sound system. After the first few bars, Natalie and Dan were the only ones on the floor. That was followed by 'The Girl From Ipanema'. Next came Elvis Presley's trademark hit, 'Blue Suede Shoes'. The tempo turned slow and sensuous with Peggy Lee's 'Fever'. The final selection was 'Staying Alive'. As the music faded, they took impromptu bows to a round of enthusiastic applause. A number of the guests came and congratulated them. A few even asked if they would consider giving lessons.
"Well, Aunt Janice." Sarah said. "What do you think about the Lamberts now?"
"Exhibitionists!" Aunt Janice huffed. "The lot of them. Hrrumph! Well, I never ... !" She stuck her nose in the air.
"I can see why." Dan whispered to Natalie. "And with her looks and her attitude, it's probable she never will, either."
&&&&&&&&&&
Present
"Well? ... " Schanke inquired as Nick returned to the precinct. "Did you talk to her? Is she going to do it?"
"Will you at least give me time to take off my coat?" Nick replied.
"Okay. Take off your coat."
Slowly, deliberately, Nick removed his duster. It was a performance worthy of a stripper at Jilly's. One could almost hear 'Bumps and Grinds' playing in the background. He could feel the tension building as one by one the rest of the bullpen crowded around his desk. As he leisurely and calculatingly headed toward the coat rack at the end of the room, Schanke grabbed the coat and threw it on his desk.
"Enough of that ... that whatever that little exhibition was about." He practically shouted at Nick. "Answer my question. What did she say? Is she going to do it? The future of the 96th depends on her answer. You can't keep us in suspense this way."
"Yeah." Nick said barely above a whisper.
"WHAT?"
"Natalie said she'll do it." He raised his voice only about half a notch.
The cheers were almost deafening.
&&&&&&&&&&
Nick spun Nat into a deep dip that almost touched the floor.
"Not bad." Myra said. "I gotta admit you and Dr. Lambert … Natalie … do make a good couple. You both know the moves. All you need a little polishing. Let me show you what I mean." She hobbled out of the chair in Nick's loft and took Don's hand. Awkwardly, because of the cast, she and Don attempted to duplicate some of the moves that Nick and Nat had made.
"I guess we didn't do that too well." Don said as he guided Myra back to her chair. Myra grimaced noticeably from the effort. "What you two need is some professional advice. Let me get the number of the studio that Myra taught at. They'd be glad to help you."
"I appreciate the thought, Schank." Nick said. "But I know someone who has been doing this for a number of years. She sort of owes me a favor. I think I'll look her up."
&&&&&&&&&&
Nick and Natalie approached the small house in Mississauga.
"Are you sure she'll do it?" Natalie asked.
"There's only one way to find out." Nick said as he rang the bell.
A few moments later, a gray haired lady opened the door. "Nicholas!" She said, smiling and throwing her arms around him. "I am always glad to see you." She nodded to Natalie and extended her hand. "And you must be Natalie. Nicholas has told me so much about you in the few times we've talked, I almost feel I know you."
"And I feel I know you too, Mrs. Barrington." Natalie replied. "Nick has spoken many times about you and your late husband."
"Katherine." Nick said as they entered the comfortable living room. "As I said on the phone, I have a favor to ask of you."
"Please. It's Kate. I haven't been Katherine Barrington in almost forty years. I owe Aristotle for at least letting me keep my first name. Even if it was only the nickname. It's Kate Donaldson now. And that man standing in the kitchen door is my husband of thirty years, George."
George Donaldson came into the room. He put his arm around his wife and hugged her gently. "I take it these are more of your mysterious strangers from your mysterious past?" He looked at Nick. "Or should I say 'Son of Mysterious Stranger' ?"
"Does he know ... " Nick asked softly.
"Yes, he knows everything. Or almost everything. I told him all about my life as Katherine Barrington. How Jeremy Stanton had killed Gordon, and how he tried to kill me some forty years ago. I told him how your ... ah ... father ... helped Madeline and me disappear into the ... ah … Witness Protection Program, and how it was only through a terrible quirk of fate that Stanton found us again after all those years. After Jeremy Stanton was arrested, and with the DeBrabant Foundation buying Barrington-Stanton Industries, I couldn't see any reason to keep silent any longer. After all, there's no threat any more." Suddenly her face went pasty white. "There is no threat, is there? I mean, Stanton is still behind bars, isn't he?"
"Yes, Kathr ... Kate. Stanton is still in prison. And he's going to be there for a very very long time." Nick said, patting her hand.
"It was an incredible coincidence that you were assigned to investigate the death of Madame Natasha ... Madeline. Otherwise, Stanton might have made good his attempt on Kate's life as well. We owe you, Nicholas. Anything we can do for you, don't hesitate to ask." George said as he led them into the small but well furnished kitchen.
"Actually, what we ...What Natalie and I ... What we need is ... "
"What he's trying to say is that we need your help." Natalie explained. She briefly outlined the 96th's competition with the 75th. And how they were last minute substitutes when Myra Schanke broke her ankle. "Nick said you two were excellent ballroom dancers. Frankly, we need some tips."
"We'd be more than happy to do this. If I do say so myself, George and I … what's that phrase again … Oh yes ... cut a pretty mean rug." Kate said proudly.
"Kate!" George admonished. "Cut a rug? You're dating yourself."
"I don't have to, darling. This gray hair does it for me. When do you want to begin? I happen to know that the center is empty tomorrow night. How about we meet there at 8 o'clock?"
&&&&&&&&&&
"We are in deep deep doo doo." Vera told the group gathered around the table in the break room. "We might as well just hand over the money to the 75th now and get it over with. You remember Sergeant Wilkerson over in their dispatch office?"
"Yeah. I know him." McIntyre said. "But what does he have to do with the dance competition? I know for a fact he's not in it. If I remember from the Charity ball, he has two left feet. Size 14 1/2 EEE left feet at that. And they're flat, too. Even his wife wouldn't dance with him."
"Well, according to my informant, this same wife has a sister. The sister's husband has a brother. The brother has a girlfriend. The girlfriend was on the Canadian Winter Olympics team."
"And ... " Mace prompted.
"And ... her event was Ice dancing. She and her partner placed fifth."
"I still don't see what that has to do with the competition." Constable Donaldson said.
"I'm coming to that. Ice dancing is just like ballroom dancing. Except it's done on ice skates. From what my snitch says, she and her partner have been coaching Martinson and Belinski for the past two weeks. My mole says they're really good, too."
"Jeez! Do they have ringers for everything?" Mace asked, dolefully.
"Man-o-man!" Schanke sighed. "I know that in show business they say break a leg, but did Myra have to take it seriously? We're dead meat. Again."
&&&&&&&&&&
Nick and Natalie completed the spin.
"Very good." George Donaldson praised. "You two are coming along very well. Are you sure you haven't been taking lessons on the side?"
"No. We've never had any lessons together. "Nat took a course in college, but I more or less picked it up on my own. Although I did have several very good teachers." Nick replied. / Like Mikhail Baryshnikov, Ana Pavlova, and Agrippina Vaganova. After 800 years, I have learned a few pointers. /
&&&&&&&&&&
Moscow 1893
"No! No! No! You dance like you are wearing galoshes!" Agrippina Vaganova shouted at the hapless man before her. "It's a wonder you haven't crushed your partner's feet by now. I haven't seen anyone this clumsy since I came to the Maryinski Theatre. Even the children dancing the Nutcracker can out perform you." She pulled the young man from his partner. "Pack your things. You are no longer a performer here. Nicholai. Take his place."
Nick stepped timidly forward. "But Madame Vaganova. I am not a dancer. I am merely the piano player."
"Nicholai Cossakov. You may think of yourself as ... merely ... whatever you want. But you are an exceptional pianist. And a superb dancer as well." Agrippina said softly. "I have watched you when you think no one can see. You repeat all of the dances with an invisible partner. And you do them perfectly."
"It is true, Madame. I do practice the moves. But it is only to be better able to coordinate the music with the dance. I'm afraid that if I try it with a person, my feet will turn to mush."
"Nicholai." She said softly. "You do not dance with your feet like that clod I just fired. Remember what I have just said. I have seen you dance. You dance with your soul. You know the parts better than anyone. Perhaps even better than I know them. Now it is time to do them with a real partner." She took his hand and led him to the ballerina. "Dance for me, Nicholai. Dance for her. Dance for yourself."
&&&&&&&&&&
Present
"Next time, Natalie." Katherine said. "Put your foot tight against Nick's as you start the turn. That way, you'll have better balance."
"But won't I step on his toes?"
"Not much chance of that." George replied. "We've been doing it that way for years, and so far, Kate's only tramped on me twice. And both times it was my fault. Centrifugal force will keep his feet out of your way. Now, try it again. And Nick. Use a little more passion when you pull her to you. She's not going to bite, you know."
(No, she won't bite, but I might. )
&&&&&&&&&&
"So, Nick." Don asked as his partner sat down at his desk. "How's the dancing coming along? I mean the competition is next week and you've been closed mouthed about your progress. Every time somebody asks, you change the subject at the earliest opportunity. We don't even know where you're practicing. That is, if you're practicing. You are practicing, aren't you?"
"Yeah, Knight. I think we deserve some kind of a demonstration." Captain Cohen added. "After all, the pride of the 96th is at stake here."
/ Could you please use some other word besides stake/ "I suppose you're right." Nick said. "It's just that we didn't want to give the people over at the 75th any advantages. It only seems logical that since we have spies and snitches at the 75th, that they have their eyes and ears here, too. Wouldn't want to give away any secrets, would we? If you and Schanke want to see how well we're doing, meet us at the Ceilidh Arts Center tomorrow evening at 8:00. That should answer all your questions."
&&&&&&&&&&
"Hi Mace." Dave Hildebrand from Robbery said as he climbed the steps to the entrance to the Ceilidh Arts Center. Dave was a transfer from Castle Frank less than a year ago. He had been out of the Academy only three years, so he was still more or less of a rookie. The ink was not even dry on his Detective's cert.
"Hi, Dave." Jed 'Mace' Terrence said as he put his arm across the chest of the new detective. "Where do you think you're going?"
"To see Knight and the Doctor practice, of course."
"Afraid not. Only Captain Cohen and Don Schanke are allowed in there."
"But we do have the right to see what we're betting on. After all, there's a whole lot of money riding on this."
"And you could just be the mole, too. I mean, wasn't Larry Halberd one of your roommates at the Academy? Isn't his cousin at the 75th? You could be feeding him information about what goes on here and he's passing it along."
"And doesn't your next door neighbor's brother in law go to the same church that Jerry Beardsley goes to? Who's to say you're not the snitch?"
"Touche. I think we're getting a little far out on a tangent here."
"I knew you'd see it my way." Dave said as he started back up the steps.
"Sorry. You still can't go in there. I've got my orders." Mace said, once again restraining the young detective.
"Whose orders?"
"Captain Cohen's."
"Can I at least talk to her?"
"Sure!"
Hildebrand started for the door once more.
Mace stopped him one more time. "Tomorrow."
&&&&&&&&&&
Moscow 1895
Nick watched with anxiety and trepidation as Madame Vaganova posted the listing for the parts to Piotr Tchaikovsky's newest ballet 'Swan Lake'. As he read it, his worst fears became reality. He had been picked to dance the role of Prince Siegfried, the lead character. Up until now, he had been cast in mostly secondary roles. They were important parts, but not critical to the success of the performance, and rarely worth mentioning in the reviews. Now, as one of the stars, he would be in the forefront of the public, as well as the press. He could ill afford that. So far, he had managed to keep a considerable distance between himself and Lucien LaCroix, his master, but this would change all that overnight.
"Madame." He said to the Director of the Maryinski Ballet. "I cannot do this. I cannot dance Prince Siegfried."
"Of course you can, Nicholai. You are a natural dancer. And you have made such great progress over these past two years."
( Thanks to a vampire's perfect memory. But I am denying an opportunity to a dancer who has worked and studied for most of his life to achieve what I have done in only two years. )
"You are ready for stardom." She continued. "You deserve stardom. This is your one great chance. I feel in my bones that this ballet is destined to be one of the classics. And you will be the very first one to dance it. This opportunity does not come along in a hundred lifetimes. For my sake. For the company's sake. Say you will reconsider. Say you will do it."
He could easily wait another hundred lifetimes for a second chance, but Agrippina Vaganova had such a forceful personality, and had such a strong passion for her work and her people, that it was nearly impossible to deny her anything.
."Very well, Madame. For you, I will do it." He capitulated.
&&&&&&&&&&
Present
"Nervous?" Nick said as he and Natalie waited in the director's office of the Ceilidh Arts Center. From here, they could see into the all purpose room. The seats that lined the balcony walls were packed with policemen from nearly every precinct and their families. There were also a number of government officials from all ranks there, too.
"Nervous? No." Natalie replied. "Petrified? Definitely yes."
Nick and Nat had worked out nearly every night before and after shift, and almost every day off for over a month. Not only with Kate and George Donaldson, but also with several of the center's instructors, and a few of Myra's friends from Arthur Murray's.
At Myra's suggestion, they had even dressed the part. Nick had on black tie and tails, complete with top hat, a la Fred Astaire. Natalie, the quintessential Ginger Rogers, had a free flowing 3/4 length ivory chiffon gown with a halter top. Her hair had been styled and pulled away from her face. A series of loose ringlets cascaded over her ears. She wore a rhinestone silver tiara on her head. Courtesy of Myra Schanke. "I wore that when Donny and I won our first contest." Myra had said as she pinned it in Natalie's hair." It'll bring you luck."
"Just remember what everybody has been telling us." Nick put his hand on her heart. "Don't think about the music. Feel the music. In here. Live the music. In here. Become the music. In here. We can do it." He looked deeply into her eyes. He knew she was a resistor, but maybe he could just plant a small thought ...( No.) As much as he wanted to, it was wrong.
Martinson and Belinski finished their routine. Even Nick had to admit they were excellent. Very polished and technically nearly perfect. For a few minutes, even he had doubts. To beat that, he and Natalie would have to pour their hearts and souls into their routine. Something he was planning to do anyway.
The opening strains of their introduction piece sounded over the audio system.
"And now from the 96th precinct ... " The announcer's voice sounded throughout the hall. " ... The team of Detective Nicholas Knight and Doctor Natalie Lambert."
Nick took Natalie in his arms and closed his eyes. "Relax." He whispered into her ear. "Become one with the music." The spotlight focused on them. Their first selection came over the loudspeakers. Nicholas and Natalie took their first steps onto the dance floor.
&&&&&&&&&&
Moscow
Nicholai stepped off the curb. The opening night was only a month away and he had not been able to convince Madame Vaganova to recast the part of Prince Siegfried. Every time he tried, she would have ten arguments to his one why he should do it.
He had heard through the vampire grapevine that Lucien LaCroix would be there with Czar Nicholas and Czarina Alexandra to see the first performance. They were making a special trip from St. Petersburg just for the occasion. And they were bringing nearly every member of Russian nobility with them. So far, he had managed to elude his master's attention. For the past three years, LaCroix had been so engrossed in the affairs of the Royal Court and the burgeoning unrest among the peasants, that he barely had time to keep track of his wayward son. Nicholas enjoyed the relative freedom this gave him. He was not ready to give that up very easily.
He was so lost in thought that the sound of the oncoming coach did not register. By the time he noticed it, it was upon him. He started to move with vampire speed, but it was already too late. The lead horse reared in a desperate attempt to avoid him, but with no luck. One of the horse's forelegs came down repeatedly on his right thigh. Another hoof crushed his shin. Nick could feel the bones splintering beneath the massive Belgian's hooves. He tried to roll away, but one of the other horses caught his left rib cage. More bones cracked. Fortunately, it was well away from his heart. Another hoof had grazed his head and opened a large gash on his forehead as well. From the pain, it was possible it had fractured his skull.
"Nicholai!" Madame Vaganova shouted as she ran to him.
"I didn't see him." The terrified coach driver cried. "He walked right in front of me."
Nicholas smiled weakly. It hurt. A lot. He could feel the bones starting to realign themselves even as he lay on the street. Since he was a vampire, he knew that his leg would be strong enough to stand on in about an hour, and would be completely healed by this time tomorrow. The ribs were already beginning to heal, too. Already he was breathing easier. The wound on his head had stopped bleeding and the bones in his skull were beginning to knit as well.
No one else, except the other vampires in the Moscow Community, knew his secret. That meant that, because of his injuries, he would have to be 'out of commission' for at least ten to fifteen weeks.( Maybe this could be the answer to my dilemma.) He closed his eyes and grimaced as Madame Vaganova cradled his bloody head in her lap.
"Madame." He said softly. "I'm so sorry."
"Do not talk, Nicholai. I have already sent someone for a physician. I will see that you receive the best of care."
&&&&&&&&&&
Present
Even though he didn't have to, Nick matched his breathing to Natalie's as they stood in the spotlight. The routine they had just completed was long, and physically as well as emotionally exhausting. If he were not panting at least as hard as his partner, someone might get suspicious. He did not need that at now. Or ever.
The applause was nearly deafening.
They had included everything from classic ballet to jitterbug to break dancing, as well as some line dancing and bit of the twist and mashed potato. Naturally, there were the standard dances such as waltz and fox trot. There were even several stanzas from a minuet, one of Nick's favorite dances.
Now it was up to the judges to determine who was the winner. In the interest of fairness, since there were no easily measurable scoring norms for this kind of event, the two captains had chosen the manager of the Etobicoke School of Dance,the general manager of the Crystal Ballroom, and the senior choreographer of the Bathurst Theatre as impartial judges for the event.
It seemed like it took forever for the judges to make up their minds. At last, the scores were in. The manager of the Ceilidh Arts Center stepped to the microphone.
&&&&&&&&&&
Moscow
Nicholai hobbled into the Director's office on crutches. His right leg was encased in plaster from his hip to his toes and he still had a bandage wrapped around his forehead. It wasn't necessary. The wounds had healed within days after the accident. But it was in keeping with his supposed injuries. He had explained the rib injury as merely bruising, so nothing was needed there. Madame Vaganova smiled broadly as she saw him. She rose and embraced him as gently as she could, considering his 'condition'. There were tears in her eyes. "Why did this have to happen to you now, Nicholai? You were on the brink of success."
"I realize what a great thing you have done for me, Madame. And I am truly grateful for everything. But now I must return to being only a mere piano player once more. The physician ... "( with the help of a slight 'suggestion') " … has said that my leg will heal, but it will never be strong enough to dance again."
She embraced him again. "The world will never know your great talent."
"Do not worry, Madame. Sergei, my understudy, knows the part even better than I do. I have seen the way he dances with Marie. There is chemistry between them that even I do not have with her. It is there both on and off the stage. They are the perfect Siegfried and Odette. You once said that Swan Lake is destined to be one of the world's greatest ballets. And I have a strong feeling that Ulanov and Romanova are fated to become one of Russia's greatest ballet couples."
&&&&&&&&&&
Present
"I know you have been waiting a long time for these scores." The manager continued. "But the judges had a very difficult time. The presentations by these two teams were done in a most professional manner and they both performed very difficult routines. Scoring was very close. But, finally the judges have reached a consensus. The team of Martinson and Belinski received scores of 9.3, 9.4, and 9.9 for an aggregate score of 9.53."
There was hearty backslapping and hugging from the officers of the 75th precinct. Jerry Beardsley held out his hand to Amanda Cohen.
"However ... "
There was nearly complete silence as the manager spoke again.
" .. The team of Knight and Lambert has received scores of 9.3, 9.6 and 9.8 for an aggregate score of 9.56. In the opinion of the judges ... " The rest of his speech was drowned out by the cheers and shouts of the 96th.
Amanda Cohen held out her hand to Jerry. She snapped her fingers commandingly and waggled them at him. Slowly, grudgingly, he counted out the money. The scene was repeated numerous times as numerous officers of the 96th precinct collected numerous side bets from their numerous counterparts at the 75th precinct.
"Three one hundredths of a point." Beardsley groused as he handed the money to Cohen. "Some victory that is."
"A win is a win, no matter how close." Captain Cohen kissed the roll of bills and tucked them in the top of her blouse. "And that's when I'll discover that revenge is sweet ... " She intoned as she swaggered back to her seat.
&&&&&&&&&&
The victory party was a huge success. While most of the 96th stayed, most of the 75th left as soon as the competition was over. Almost magically, the room was transformed into a banquet hall. There were tables full of food, refreshments of all kind, and dancing until the wee hours of the night. This time, the pace was much more relaxed and slow.
Nick held Nat close as the music stopped.
"I think they want to close up." Natalie said as they surveyed the nearly deserted room.
"So let them." Nick replied. "We could adjourn this to the loft if you'd like."
"I'd love to, but if I don't get at least eight hours of beauty sleep, I'll be a positive grouch tomorrow. Besides, the sunrise is in a little over two hours away. By the time we get to the loft, there won't be enough time to do anything."
(There are a few things we could do in that time ... Don't go there ...) He admonished himself. "I guess not. There is just time for one more dance, though."
Just then, the last song of the evening ... morning ... came over the speaker. 'I Could Have Danced All Night'.
Nick smiled broadly at Nat. "I think we just did." He said as he took her in his arms.
&&&&&&&&&&
The end?
We Have Just Begun