Swan Song, Chapter 3
Musical Notes: Sing Me to Heaven was composed by Daniel Gawthrop. Until I met the Awakening, it was my favorite song about music, and it still is when I want something calmer and don't quite have the energy required to deal with the Awakening. Beautiful, peaceful, quietly poignant. Hey Nonny, Nonny is by Shakespeare, whose variety never ceases to amaze me. It was set to music by Carl Nygard, and the descriptive note at the beginning of the score says it all: "Playful blues." Serious foot-tapping song, and the piano part (with a pianist good enough to handle the difficulty and showman enough to ham it up) makes it a real cut-loose song and an audience favorite. It is pure fun for a choir but challenging enough to keep it interesting. I, at least, have my limits on mindless silliness and quickly get bored with it. Never got bored with Hey Nonny, Nonny. In every way, this song rocks. Dirait-On was composed by Morten Lauridsen to words by the famous poet Ranier Maria Rilke, who wrote a bit of French poetry in addition to his better-known German poetry. The words are a poem to a rose, describing its quintessential shape and beauty. The music almost draws rose petals itself. I think of it as a spiral song, all vocal parts tracing graceful lines as they circle and intersect each other. Like Prelude to Peace, the music would relax anyone at the end of the hardest day.
(H/C)
"In my heart's sequestered chambers
Lie truths stripped of poet's gloss.
Words alone are vain and vacant,
And my heart is mute.
In response to aching silence,
Memory summons half-heard voices,
And my soul finds primal eloquence
And wraps me in song."
"Sing Me to Heaven," Daniel Gawthrop
(H/C)
Sarah sat in the glass-encased room in the ICU, watching Sam. His face looked almost paler than the sheets, paler than the bandages that swathed his head. He was absolutely still.
A tap sounded at the door, and she turned to see Horatio and Calleigh. "Hello again," she said, getting up with difficulty. She had almost grown to the chair over the last several hours.
They came in, looking at Sam. "How is he?" Calleigh asked.
Sarah shook her head. "He's in a coma. They say there's a good chance of brain damage even if he wakes up."
Calleigh shivered, remembering her own long night beside a hospital bed. "He was bleeding inside the brain?"
"Yes. They think he hit his head on the steering wheel. Because of the Coumadin, everything was worse. They had to do an emergency reversal of the Coumadin and operate anyway, even though it raised the surgery risks. He would have died without surgery. The oozing still isn't totally under control. They've left a drain in, to keep pressure from building up again."
"You said he had atrial fibrillation." Horatio glanced at the heart monitor, which was active but anything but regular.
Sarah nodded. "He has a genetic heart defect that caused it. Since he's young and healthy otherwise, they just keep him on medicine to control the heart rate and on the anticoagulants to prevent clots. But of course, if he gets hurt, it complicates everything." She walked back to the bedside and touched her brother's arm. "He hasn't stirred once all night. I've been talking to him, but I can't even tell if he hears me."
"Keep believing that he does," Horatio urged her. "Sarah, have you thought any more about what Sam told Calleigh? That someone was trying to kill you?"
"Yes, and it's still crazy. There's no reason anyone would want to. He was probably just hurt and didn't know what he was saying."
"He was coming back from the conference early, you said," Calleigh reminded her. "When he passed me, he was definitely speeding. That was all before the wreck. Something made him come home early and made him want to get here as soon as he could."
Sarah jolted to a stop in her mental denials. "That's right. He shouldn't have been back yet." She looked from one to the other of them, and her tone was helpless, even if it wasn't quite as disbelieving. "Why would anyone want to kill me?"
Horatio was working out another train of thought. "I take it Sam didn't try to call you on your cell phone yesterday."
"It was run down. I had been out for the afternoon and didn't realize it until later. I forget to charge it sometimes."
"Did he call your house? Do you have an answering machine? Surely he would have at least tried to call before driving back several hours."
"I haven't checked the answering machine. I never even made it in the door all the way last night." She looked at the door, then back to Sam.
Calleigh stepped in. "Sarah, why don't we take you back to your house? We can check the answering machine, and you can pick up the charger for your cell phone. You might need it working. You need to pick up your car, too; you're stranded here. We drove you last night." Also, the break would do her good. There was a limit to the hours one could sit by a hospital bed alone.
"I don't want to leave him."
"Why don't we give the staff our cell phone numbers?" Horatio suggested. "They can call if there's any change at all, and you'll only be gone an hour or so. You need to get some things for yourself, Sarah."
Calleigh spoke up. "Sarah, he was frantic about this last night. He was concerned about you, just as concerned as you are now about him. Shouldn't you at least try to find out what had him so worried? It might be right there on the answering machine."
Sarah deflated suddenly, tiredness and worry overwhelming her. She didn't have the strength to argue. "Okay, but I'm coming straight back."
"Of course," Horatio agreed. He and Calleigh stepped outside to talk to the nurses while Sarah spent a few minutes explaining her absence in advance to Sam.
(H/C)
Sarah unlocked the door, and they all entered. "The answering machine is over here." She stared at the red blinking light for a second, then pushed it, almost afraid to hear the message.
Beep!
"Sarah, it's me. Are you there? Pick up if you're there. Sarah, this is important. Call me the second you get this message. I'll be on my cell; I'm coming home now."
Beep! "Message left at 4:37 p.m., October 11th. End of messages."
Calleigh struck her palm with her fist in frustration. "Why couldn't he be more specific?"
"It gives us a time to start tracking his movements backward from," Horatio pointed out. "Sarah, what was this conference?"
"I think the brochure is still around here somewhere." She started fishing through the paperwork in a moderately disorganized desk.
Calleigh noticed the row of pictures on the wall. The twins, obviously, and their parents. There was no picture after around age 10 for the twins that showed all four of them. "Did your parents die, Sarah?"
"Plane crash. We were staying with my grandparents while they went on vacation. Over 100 people were killed in that one. Grandma raised us, but she died just a few years ago." Sarah shook her head. "I can't lose him, too."
"You haven't yet," Horatio pointed out. "Sarah, is there anything at all that's happened in the last few weeks that's out of the ordinary?"
"No. Honestly, I'm trying, but I can't think of a single thing."
"It's okay," Horatio assured her. "You won't help us by making up things."
Calleigh noticed a birthday card on the desk and picked it up. "Your birthday was recently?"
"Our birthday. It was last Wednesday. We went out to eat."
Horatio tightened up imperceptibly. "What did he give you for a present?"
She smiled at the memory. "A necklace. Beautiful necklace, emeralds and diamonds in the shape of a heart. Not really expensive or top quality diamonds, of course, just little ones, but still, it was nice. Even with his employee discount, I worried that it was too much, but he said I was worth it." Tears welled up in her eyes, and she blinked them back.
"Employee discount," Horatio repeated. "What is his job, Sarah?"
"He works at a jewelry store. Hermann's Jewelry. He came to Miami four months ago, and he moved in with me. He's studying to be a gemologist. That's what the conference was about, actually. It's a jewelry conference. Ah, here it is." She offered Horatio a brochure advertising the conference, and he skimmed it.
"Was there anything odd about that necklace, Sarah?" Calleigh asked.
Sarah shook her head. "You're asking the wrong twin. He's the one with the knowledge. I only know what I think looks pretty, and this qualified."
"May we see it?" Horatio asked.
"Sure." She glanced at her watch as she headed for the bedroom. Her thoughts were already back at the hospital with Sam. She emerged a few minutes later holding an empty jewelry case and looking puzzled. "It isn't here."
Horatio's first thought was of robbery, but looking around the house, he couldn't believe it. The place was hardly pristine, but it did have some organization while being lived in, and nothing seemed to have been touched. "Sarah, does it look to you like anyone has been going through this house?"
She swept the room with a glance. "No way. I probably just put it down somewhere else. I'm not careless, but I do lose my car keys and such now and then."
"Do you remember when you last saw it?"
She thought. "Thursday. I wore it to work, and everybody admired it. I remember taking it off that night, though. Wait, I wore it shopping Saturday, too. I remember looking at things in a jewelry store and thinking I liked mine better. Look, I appreciate the concern, but I really need to get back to Sam."
"Do you mind if we have a look around the house for the necklace?"
"Not at all. Help yourselves." She switched back to guilt as she gathered up her purse. "Why didn't I have that phone charged? Oh, that reminds me, I need the recharger. That's probably why he drove back instead of leaving a longer message. He knew where I was going to be last night, and he knew I'd be in late. He could probably be home before I was, so he just came on and didn't explain himself." She fished the recharger out of the fourth drawer she looked in and stuffed it in her purse. "Where are my car keys? Did anybody see what happened to my keys?"
"In the door," Horatio supplied, and she extracted them from the lock. "Where were you until late last night, Sarah?"
"At choir rehearsal at the Lutheran church. Three-hour rehearsals every night this week. Sam knew that."
Calleigh blinked, doing the math. "Your church choir rehearses fifteen hours a week?"
"Oh, it's not a church choir. It's a professional group, kind of like the symphony. We just rehearse at a church because the performing arts center rent by the night is outrageous. The concerts are at the center. We usually only rehearse once a week, but we have a concert Saturday, and we always really pack it in the week before to put the final polish on the songs." She looked at the brochure in his hand. "I need to get back. I'm trying to help you, but Sam needs me, too. Is there anything else?"
"A few suggestions," Horatio stated. "We all agree now that your brother wasn't just delirious last night. The message confirms that. He may be wrong, but he thinks you're in danger. So watch your back, Sarah. Keep that cell phone with you and charged. Also, you said last night you had mace. Don't hesitate to use it." He handed her a card. "Call me anytime, day or night. I'll be talking to you further, anyway. We're going to try to track your brother's movements, and we're going to try to find that necklace. Do we have your permission to do that?" She nodded. "One more thing. I'd like a picture of your brother."
She pulled one off the wall. "Will I get it back?"
"Of course," he assured her. "Take care, Sarah." She handed him the picture and disappeared out the door, leaving it halfway open. Calleigh crossed to shut it, then looked back at Horatio and sighed.
He gave her a thin smile. "You're the woman, Cal. Where would you put your jewelry down without thinking about it?"
She shook her head. "Lord only knows for her. I put mine up in the case. Always. Good thing she doesn't work at CSI. Can you imagine her with evidence?"
Horatio grinned but then turned serious. "Come on, Cal. Let's find a necklace."
(H/C)
An hour later, Horatio and Calleigh, without the necklace, pulled into the police complex parking garage. Calleigh headed another direction, though. "I need to go sign my statement on that accident. I'll see you in a few minutes."
"See you then. We'll go to the jewelry store after I check on things here." Horatio headed up to CSI alone, looking for Eric and finding him in the main lab. "Eric, how's it going?"
Eric looked up from the jacket he was examining. "Pretty quiet so far today, H. I'm just working some more on trying to identify that John Doe we found dead last week on the beach."
"Well, I've got something else for you. Road trip."
"Where to?" Eric folded the jacket neatly and rebagged it.
"To a jewelry conference." Horatio handed him the brochure and the picture. "This is Sam Carpenter. He was attending this conference until yesterday afternoon. At around 4:37 p.m., he left unexpectedly and was dashing back to Miami believing that his sister was going to be killed. He's the one who was in the wreck with Calleigh." Eric nodded. Horatio had called him earlier that morning with the story of the night before. "I want you to go up to this hotel and convention center and ask questions. One thing: Do not bring his sister's name into it. Just in case he was the first to realize she was involved, and the criminals don't know it yet. He said there was a mistake, probably referring to her involvement. Your story is that he was in a wreck; you're trying to trace his movements prior. Watch the reactions you get. Okay?"
"Got it." Eric studied the brochure. "You realize how much of a drive that is?"
Horatio read his mind. "Sorry about any plans you had for tonight, but this is important."
"Um, H, what am I investigating? What's the crime that's been committed here?"
"Calleigh is worried," Horatio replied.
Eric nodded, instantly surrendering his date plans. "Right. I'm on it, H."
"Thanks, Eric. Keep me posted."
(H/C)
Calleigh and Horatio walked into Hermann's Jewelry an hour later. A thin, ferret-like man was flipping through paperwork with a worried frown that covered his whole face, forehead down to lips. "Mr. Hermann?" Horatio inquired.
The man jumped and spun like he expected to be attacked. His eyes widened at the sight of the badges and guns, and he got more tense, if anything. "Yes? May I help you?"
"We understand Sam Carpenter works for you."
"Yes, yes, that's right." The man's eyes darted back to the paperwork, his thoughts obviously elsewhere. "He's not here right now, though. He's at a conference."
"Actually, he's in the hospital. He was in a car accident last night."
"Is that so?" The man's hands were almost twitching. "Hope he gets better soon."
"Mr. Hermann, is anything wrong?"
"No, absolutely not, nothing at all. Why should there be?"
"You just seem a little nervous."
"I'm trying to quit smoking."
Calleigh, who was ambling around the store looking at displays and finding nothing that seemed unusual or illegal, had trouble keeping from laughing. No quitting smoker she'd ever seen would rival this man.
Horatio gave him a steady disbelieving look from the blue lasers, and Mr. Hermann became even more jittery, if possible. "Um, is there any way I can help you, officers? I appreciate being informed about Sam, of course."
"We understand he purchased a necklace on employee discount recently."
"Yes, yes, it was a gift for his sister. A few weeks ago, that was."
"A few weeks ago? Not last week?"
"No, a few weeks ago. He kept it here so she wouldn't see it. Probably took it home last week, but I was out all week on vacation."
The subject of the necklace didn't seem to be making him nervous, but something definitely was. "Are you sure there's nothing that's making you nervous, Mr. Hermann?"
"Nothing at all. Everything's fine. Thank you, officers. Now, I really need to get back to my paperwork. My other main assistant is rafting down the Colorado River this week, and I've been out for a week, you know. Things are a bit behind."
Horatio gave up for the moment. They would get nothing from this man right now. He offered his card. "If you think of anything you'd like to tell me, please give me a call, Mr. Hermann."
Hermann took the card and put it in his pocket. "Yes, yes, of course. I'll do that. Thank you." He was already back buried in the paperwork when the door jangled closed behind them.
Calleigh exhaled loudly. "Now that one knows something."
Horatio nodded. "We weren't making him nervous. He was already nervous when we walked in. He didn't seem at all concerned about the necklace, though."
"Maybe that's not involved. Maybe the mistake is somewhere else. Sarah probably just lost the necklace around the house and will find it in another week." They had looked thoroughly, but it wasn't like processing a murder scene. They had been trying to preserve Sarah's privacy and belongings. The violently dead had no privacy.
He unlocked the Hummer, and they got in. "Hopefully, Eric will find us something up at the conference. I did call Sarah again from the office. No change in Sam, and she promised me she'd be careful."
"Hope she means it," Calleigh fretted. She could still hear the urgency of that message.
Horatio touched her arm. "We can hardly put an officer on her as a bodyguard, Cal, not without a lot more proof than we've got. We'll just have to trust Eric." His cell phone rang at that moment. "Horatio."
"H, Speed. We've got a DB in a warehouse."
Horatio sighed, writing down the address. "We'll meet you there, Speed." He started the Hummer. "Sorry, Cal, but we've got to go to another case."
"Okay." She stared out the window at the traffic, not seeing it. She and Horatio had done all they could at the moment. Trust Eric.
(H/C)
Late that afternoon, Horatio stopped the Hummer in the parking lot of daycare. He slipped his seatbelt off but stayed put, and Calleigh glanced at him questioningly. "Go in and get her yourself, Cal, and then you two can buckle me back in."
The light dawned. "I'll have to be last at some point."
"Right. I really don't think it will be near as bad as this morning, though."
Calleigh hoped not. She went into daycare, and Rosalind saw her as soon as she came through the door. "Mama!" She ran up, and Calleigh swooped her into her arms.
"Did you have a good day, Angel?"
"Uh huh. With horses!"
"Horses?" Calleigh stood as the worker came up to them.
"We had a nature video today. It had horses. Lots of other animals, too."
"Horses," Rosalind insisted.
Calleigh set Rosalind down. "Can you help me out, Angel? Go get your bag, okay?" Rosalind trotted off, and Calleigh turned to the worker. "Did she seem alright today, Dana?"
"Just like herself. Horatio told us about the wreck, and we've kept an eye on her, but she doesn't show it. Are you okay yourself?"
"A few minor stiff spots, but not too bad." Rosalind came back to them, dragging her bag by the strap along the floor after her. "Ready to go home, Rosalind?"
"Go to Dada!" she countered, wanting to go wherever he was first.
"He's right outside waiting for us. Say goodbye, Rosalind."
"Bye, Dana."
"Goodbye, Rosalind. See you tomorrow." Rosalind was already pushing at the door, wanting to get out to Horatio, but it had a catch at adult height. Calleigh picked her up and opened the door.
Horatio had gotten out of the Hummer. "Hey, Angel. Have a good day?"
"Saw horses!" Rosalind said, squirming to reach him.
"Well, good. I'm glad you saw some." He hugged her, then handed her back to Calleigh and got into the Hummer. "We'd better all get buckled in."
Calleigh stepped up beside him. "Come on, Rosalind, let's get Dada strapped in." Rosalind reached up for the belt herself, and Calleigh helped her pull it down and buckle Horatio firmly into place. Rosalind seemed interested in the process, but the worry of that morning was absent. She did start to tense up when Calleigh tucked her into the car seat, though. Calleigh forced her tone to stay calm. "We've got to get you all strapped in, just like Dada. Then, I'll get buckled in." Rosalind was alert now, a bit worried, but she didn't fight. Her eyes tracked from her father to her mother as Calleigh fixed the straps. "There we go. Now, I need to do mine." She closed the back door and quickly got in the front seat and reached for her own seat belt, letting Rosalind see it and follow her movements. "There we are. All strapped in. Okay, Horatio, we're ready."
His smile warmed her. "So we are. Okay, Rosalind, let's go home."
Calleigh watched him as he easily maneuvered through the rush-hour traffic. His strong, competent hands gripped the wheel easily. If only every other driver on the road could be Horatio. Even then, though, there might be deer. There was no way to eliminate every possibility. She had always accepted that life wasn't safe, couldn't be completely safe if it were to be worthwhile, but she had never before been so conscious of taking her child with her into the danger. Horatio looked over at her and smiled, then glanced at Rosalind in the back seat as they stopped at a light.
Rosalind suddenly sat up as far as she could, pointing. "Mama, Dada! No straps!" They followed her arm to the car next to them, which contained two adults, one toddler, and a very frisky dog who darted from one seat to another, barking at traffic. Neither adult had a seat belt on, and no car seat was in sight.
"They should have, Angel. That's wrong," Calleigh replied. "Anything could happen." And how would those parents feel afterwards?
Rosalind sat back, secure in her parents' assessment. "That's wrong," she repeated.
Horatio smiled at his daughter. "You be sure to tell us if we forget. Okay?"
"Okay," she replied, looking around with interest at another car.
The light changed, and Horatio started forward, reaching for his cell phone but keeping both eyes on the road. "This is Lieutenant Caine," he said softly. "There's a red Honda Accord next to me that has no one buckled up, including a toddler who is not in a car seat." He gave the license and street, and within two minutes, a patrol car swooped up with authority behind them, lights flashing. The Accord pulled over.
"Thank you," Calleigh said. While she wondered how the parents would feel hypothetically, Horatio tried to make a difference now.
He nodded. "Maybe a ticket will give them a wake-up call. There is a child seat law in this state, and patrol officers have that lecture down really well. They see too many scenes to take it lightly."
"That's wrong," Rosalind agreed. She traced her own straps momentarily, then looked back at her parents. "Home soon?"
"Not too far," Calleigh replied. "Maybe Dada can play the piano for you while I cook."
Rosalind instantly brightened up, forgetting her seat belt survey. "Dada? Please?"
"Of course, Angel. I've missed playing for you the last week." He glanced over at Calleigh. "I've missed both of you."
Rosalind settled back, striking up a song as if last night had never happened. "Home! Home! Piano, Dada, home!"
(H/C)
Sarah slid the key into the lock and entered her house tentatively, as if it were the house of a stranger. There was no change in Sam's condition, but the hospital staff had finally kicked her out, stating firmly that they didn't need another patient. They would call with any update, but she wasn't to be allowed back into the ICU until tomorrow. She had left the hospital accompanied by strict instructions about food and sleep.
The trouble was, she wasn't hungry, and she didn't see how she would be able to sleep, not while her brother's life hung in limbo. She was exhausted, but the gulf between tiredness and sleepiness can be wide and deep in spots. Right now, it was a chasm.
Food. She did need to eat. She microwaved a dinner and wandered aimlessly around the house as she nibbled at it. She paused in front of the pictures, looking at the family she had had as a child. Only Sam was left. Sam.
Suddenly unable to stay there any longer with only fears and uncertainties for company, she put the three-quarters eaten dinner down on the counter, found her purse and keys, shoved her feet back in her shoes, and left. The door closed behind her with an echoing thud – the unmistakable thud of an empty house.
(H/C)
Calleigh came down the hall from the nursery. Horatio was in the kitchen, finishing washing the dishes. "Is she asleep?" he asked, drying his hands.
"Yes." Calleigh dropped onto the couch, feeling exhausted suddenly. "She does seem to be getting better about the seat, at least."
"She'll be fine," he assured her again. "How's the shoulder? Care to hire a masseuse for the next few minutes?"
She gave him a tired but grateful smile. "I'd love to. It is better than this morning, though." She stretched out on her stomach again, and Horatio set to work, his fingers kneading the stiffness and pain away.
"I had a call from the insurance company this afternoon while I was in my office."
"And?"
"The Jeep is totaled. They said they'd get us a check on the policy."
Calleigh tensed up slightly, undoing part of his work. "So we probably need to go car shopping this weekend."
"We do need two cars." The soothing motion of his fingers never ceased, and she started to relax again in spite of her thoughts. "I understand, Cal."
She sighed. "I know it wasn't my fault, or even Sam's, really. But I never thought so much about the responsibility of driving. You're taking people's lives into your hands, and they're taking yours. And one of those lives is my daughter's. Even if neither driver is at fault, things can still happen."
"And you still remember how it felt, being helpless."
"Exactly. But I do know we need another car, Horatio. I just think I'm going to take longer to forget this than Rosalind is."
"You can't forget it, Calleigh. It happened. But you will be strong enough to go on. It isn't weak to feel like this, and it does get better." He switched from her shoulder to working on the muscles along her neck. "When I was a kid, after my father was killed, I went through a stretch where I was afraid to even get into a car. Scared stiff. I never told anyone, but it was real." Calleigh abruptly remembered that Horatio, too, had been through a roll-over accident and a far worse one than she had been in. "They gave Mom some painkillers for me, because I had broken ribs, but the first night she didn't give me that, a few weeks after the wreck, I slipped out to the garage in the middle of the night. It wasn't the same car, of course. His car was beyond totaled. They had to tear it apart." His fingers shuddered for a second, then became steady again. "I sat in that car, just sat there, and felt nothing happening. I felt like the world's biggest coward, because I was old enough to know that every car I got in wasn't going to wreck, but I still had to make myself get in every time. That night, I just sat there for almost an hour, thinking and remembering, and then the driver's door opened, and Mom got in with me. I was expecting her to scold me for being up out of bed at 1:00 a.m., or tell me it was silly to sit in a parked car in the garage, or childish to be afraid, but she never said a word. She just reached across and held my hand, and we sat there without saying anything. I still remembered the wreck just as vividly, but I realized that I wasn't just being weak, and I realized that I wasn't alone." He gave her shoulder a final, loving stroke and sat back. "And it did get better, Cal. Not overnight, but it did. That doesn't mean I forgot."
She sat up and reached across to touch him. "Thank you, Horatio." He didn't think she was being weak, and she knew she wasn't alone. It did help.
"It'll be okay, Cal." He leaned over to kiss her, and the phone rang.
Calleigh instantly drew an imaginary gun – she had removed her real one first thing on arriving home. "Bang!" Horatio was laughing as he picked up the receiver.
"I'm not, um, interrupting something, am I, H?" It was Eric.
"Only briefly," Horatio replied. His voice became serious. "What have you found out so far, Eric?"
"Well, there's nothing odd I can pin down. I've found out which discussion he attended last, and there was nothing at all unusual about it. No one I've talked to remembers anything strange or remembers him mentioning something. They might be lying, but if so, they're really good at it. Nobody struck me wrong. He definitely left like a bat out of hell, though. One of the desk clerks at the hotel remembers him leaving, and she says he looked worried, to put it mildly. I got into his room, although the hotel had to call the sister for permission. All of his luggage is still here. It's like he left on the spur of the moment."
"Like he overhead something, maybe," Horatio mused. "In a hall? In the bar?"
"I'm working on it, but I'm not coming up with anything yet. Course, he could have been the only one who overheard it."
"Try to get a complete list of conference attendees, Eric. We'll see if there are any felons in there."
"It's a long shot, H. This whole thing is a long shot. There was one point about that room that I thought was strange. There was a picture on the nightstand, not framed, just a snapshot. I spoke to the housekeeper who did the room this morning, and she said it was in the middle of the floor. She thought he'd dropped it."
"A picture of what?"
"A necklace. Looks like diamonds and emeralds in a heart. It is a jewelry conference, though. Maybe he picked it up in the course of that."
Horatio had come to attention. "Send me a picture of that picture on the cell phone, Eric."
"You got it, H."
"And Eric?"
"Yes?"
"Nice work. Keep me posted."
Horatio hung up the phone and crossed to the desk, retrieving his cell phone and turning it on. "Nothing suspicious yet from anyone Eric's talked to, but he'll keep working on it. There was a picture of a necklace the housekeeper found on the floor of Sam's room. Eric's sending me a copy." The picture came up on the cell phone, and Calleigh pressed alongside him to look.
"That's it. Sarah's necklace."
"Tomorrow, we're having a better look through that house. That necklace has to be the key to this."
Calleigh sighed in frustration. "The key to what? Is it crystal meth or something instead of gems? No, Sam knows gems, and he would have looked at it thoroughly. He wouldn't give his sister a counterfeit for a present. It was a mistake, he said. But if the necklace is real, why would it be important enough to kill for?"
Horatio stared at the cell phone as if the answer would jump out of the pixels. "Unfortunately, we don't know that. Yet."
(H/C)
Joy leaned forward, fingers shifting into the keyboard almost as if she were digging more deeply into the piano to extract the last possible ounce of music. Every foot was tapping as she playfully danced through an interlude straight from a piano bar at its most lively, her expression and tone inviting the listeners to dance with her. The choir stood still with difficulty, but Brian gave in, doing an impromptu tap dance along the front of the choir with more exuberance than skill, like Snoopy. He was rarely still when conducting anyway – unless he was in a concert, and then, it was startling. Even caught up in the moment, he brought the women in precisely on cue.
"Men were deceivers ever,
One foot in sea and one on shore,
To one thing constant never.
Then sigh not so, but let them go. . ."
Brian's hands fell abruptly, deliberately letting the music collapse, and everyone flinched at the jagged wound in the sound. He paced back across to the music stand. "One of the altos took a catch breath in that line and still put the T on let. A misplaced consonant by one person stands out a mile. If you absolutely MUST breathe where a breath isn't scheduled, drop the consonants you enter and exit on."
"I'm sorry," replied an alto meekly, looking down.
"Ah, we have a confession. Confession is good for the soul." He smiled at her, never able to stay annoyed long. "I absolve you . . . this time. In the concert, though, we'll hold a firing squad immediately."
"Brian," Kim asked, "where are we supposed to breathe on pages 4 through 8?"
Brian flipped through the score on his music stand, then backed away from it. "You don't. Breathe at home."
"Thanks," Kim retorted.
"One other thing." Brian was suddenly serious again. "On stagger breathing, remember, you should never breathe at the same time the person on either side of you is breathing. It leaves too much of a hole in the tone. Plan your breaths. If a phrase is too long for you, get with your neighbors and plan it. Every single breath you take in a concert should be thought out in advance." He returned to his score and flipped it back a page. "Okay, Joy. From one bar before the entrance on the top of 4." He flashed her a quick smile. "Same bar we usually meet at." Joy, who was happily married, as was Brian, grinned back at him before starting.
The breathing was more satisfactory that time, and Brian beamed at them after the final cutoff. "They're really going to enjoy that one. You enjoy it, and that will come across. They'll be rushing down the aisles for autographs." He picked up the score, ready to close it. "Anything else on this one? Questions?"
"I have a suggestion," came a voice from the baritones. The choir instantly came to alert anticipation, like a cat that sees an enticing toy dangling just out of reach. Dan was the group clown, and by giving him the floor, Brian knew good and well what he would be getting into. Dan did wait for permission, though, leaving the decision up to their conductor.
Brian glanced at his watch, measuring time against progress, and stepped back, giving up the reins. "What's that, Dan?"
"Back at the very beginning --" there was a busy rustle of pages of music turning "--when the women enter a capella with that lugubrious wail before the real words start, they should all put the back of one hand to their foreheads dramatically. It would really add to the effect."
"How would we turn pages then?" asked a soprano.
The room was alive with merriment. "Let the men turn the pages for us!" "The men can hold the folders for us!"
A voice from the piano cut across the din. "I have a suggestion." Instantly, the room was quiet. Like E. F. Hutton, when Joy talked, people listened. "If you're looking for dramatic effect in the song, Dan, there's an even better one. At 'let them go,' the women should use their folders to knock the men clear off the risers."
Cheers and whistles rang out – from the ladies. Dan closed his folder. "I withdraw my suggestion," he said meekly.
Brian stepped back up to the conductor's stand. "Game, set, and match to Joy. Okay, choir." Instantly, on the last two words, they were serious again. "Dirait-On. I want to try something different with this one. It's really brilliant, excellent sound, and I hate to say anything –"
"But you will," a bass said.
Brian smiled briefly but didn't yield to joking this time. "There could be just a little bit more sensitivity between the parts, I think. It's not a real fault, more a feeling, but I think you could be better. So altos and basses switch parts, and tenors and sopranos switch parts. Sing it in whatever octave you need to." He set the tempo, and the song started, a bit rougher than usual, but he didn't care, sacrificing polish momentarily, not stopping them. Halfway through, in a brief interlude, he said, "Switch," and they returned to true parts. The difference leaped out. Everyone heard it, felt it as they sang on, and at the piano, Joy nodded. Brian smiled at them as the last chord faded. "Lovely. Beautiful sense of ensemble there. Remember that time." None of them were likely to forget it.
The door at the back of the auditorium opened, and Sarah slipped in. The choir noticed her so intently that Brian and Joy both turned. "Sarah. We weren't expecting you tonight." Brian seized her in a hug as she climbed to the platform.
"I know. The hospital kicked me out for the night, but I . . ." She released the hug and stepped back, addressing the group as a whole. "I'm not sure if I'll make the rest of this week or the concert, either. But I really need this tonight."
A murmur of understanding and sympathy went over the group, and Brian smiled at her. "Come whenever, and when you can't, we'll know why. Our thoughts and prayers are with you and Sam."
"Thank you." She slipped to her place. A few hands touched her arm on the way, but none of them prolonged it.
Brian put the piece next in line back, exchanging it for another. "Sing Me to Heaven." The choir pulled that one out, and the music started. Sarah felt it wrap around her soul like a blanket, thawing some of the chill. For the first time today, she started to relax.
"If you would comfort me, sing me a lullaby.
If you would win my heart, sing me a love song.
If you would mourn me and bring me to God,
Sing me a requiem. Sing me to heaven."
The music did not distract her, because she did not wish to be distracted. Instead, it perfectly expressed her. It was a higher language, framing what words alone could never completely convey, and the group was there with her, sharing it all. They understood, and she knew they understood, and they all poured out everything together in perfect harmonies.
"Touch in me grief and comfort,
Love and passion, pain and pleasure.
Sing me a lullaby, a love song, a requiem.
Love me, comfort me, bring me to God."
The worry remained, but the aloneness vanished.
(H/C)
Maria entered her house slowly, feet dragging as if lifting off the floor was too much effort so late in the day. She stumbled slightly and caught herself without noticing on a chair as she crossed the room. She was humming to herself, the swirling peacefulness of Dirait-On.
The light on the answering machine was blinking, and she considered ignoring it, hating to ruin the afterglow of the evening, then reluctantly hit the button. Bracing against the table, she kicked off her shoes.
"Two new messages."
Beep!
"It's me. Ain't got the alimony this check. Have to wait, 'kay?"
Maria switched songs, changing from humming to low singing as she listened. "Men were deceivers ever, one foot in sea and one on shore, to one thing constant never."
"And don't go calling that lawyer. You'll get it. Kids have to come first. You wouldn't know, since y'don't have any." The slight slur in his voice made it clear where his priorities were, and they weren't on the three children he had had since she kicked him out, each by a different mother.
Maria flinched slightly at the mention of her own lack, then pushed it away. "Then sigh not so, but let them go, and be you blithe and bonny, converting all your sounds of woe into hey, nonny, nonny."
"Course, if you'd get off your lazy butt and work, you wouldn't need alimony anyway. Don't see me getting by with no part-time job. Just a sponge." He hiccupped softly for emphasis. "Lazy sponge." Click.
Beep!
"Maria, this is Dr. Sullivan's office calling. We're just reminding you of your chemo treatment tomorrow at the hospital. You should be there at 10:00 a.m."
Beep!
The song trailed into silence, and the tiredness, the weight of the cancer that she was forced to drag around with her rushed back in to fill the void. For three blissful hours, she had completely forgotten. Now, she remembered, but even the knowledge was still cradled in the gently fading echo of music.
(H/C)
Lynella stared at Tom's piano. It was there, in the bench, waiting like a wrapped present left in plain sight. Her song. Circle of Starlight. Of course, he'd have a copy with him in his folder, but there had to be more than one around. He had had seventy copies made, one for everybody in the choir and several spares. Her hand came out to caress the edge of the bench, then pulled back. She had to play by the rules, after all.
She heard the car outside and stood up, ready for him. "Good rehearsal?" she asked after they kissed. She already could tell, actually, from his eyes. He was still high on the music, a potent drug with no hangover and no bad side-effects.
"Wonderful. I know you miss rehearsals, Lynn, but it's only for a few more days."
She wasn't a member of the group herself, not having the quality of voice required to audition, but she enjoyed going along, being part of something so important to him, soaking up the banter and marveling at the dedication. The three hours never seemed long. Brian even used her frequently as a test audience member, to tell if she couldn't understand every word from the back of the auditorium, for instance. "I know. I'm looking forward to Saturday. There will be other rehearsals to go to, but this concert is special."
"Once in a lifetime, for my once in a lifetime gal." He kissed her again, then put his music folder in the piano bench.
"Tom," she started, then hesitated.
"What is it?"
"Why do you call Circle your swan song? What makes you think it's the last one?"
He sat down on the couch and patted the cushion beside him, and she joined him, their bodies touching. "I'm not sure, Lynn. Not sure why, I mean. It just is. I've loved writing music all my life, but it just feels like my work is complete."
"You don't have to stop for me. I don't have to have the last one be for me. I'd rather have you happy."
He put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into him even closer. "I've never been so happy in my life. It isn't something I've decided for you, Lynn, but something that was already decided independent of me. It just feels like that chapter is finally coming to a close." His eyes were glowing as he looked at her. "It isn't sad at all. I can look back through everything, see how it's developed, how each led to the next one. I can enjoy it even more now, because the last chapter is there. I didn't choose it, Lynn, but everything has to end sometime. We can either regret it and pine for more that won't come, or we can appreciate the wholeness of what was." He kissed her. "And this is only part of my life. You are my life. I can't wait to see what comes next. We'll have each other, and I'll keep singing with the group. I'm not shutting music out. I just won't write any more, and I'm absolutely at peace with that."
She snuggled closer against him. "Then I am, too, as long as you're not going to regret it. And I'm going to love the song."
He chuckled slightly. "I wish my back wouldn't be toward you as I conduct it, but I was glad to take Brian up on the offer. I was afraid with me in the choir, facing you, I'd get distracted and make mistakes in the music."
"With the house lights out?"
"I'd find you in the dark, love." To prove the point, his hand came out to the lamp beside them, and the light winked out, leaving them together in the warm, shielding darkness.
(H/C)
Darkness blanketed the house. Hope lapped water quietly in the kitchen, then padded on cat feet down the hall. Soothing, even breathing reached her ears from both bedrooms. She turned into the master bedroom and jumped, landing weightlessly on the end of the bed. She tucked herself between their feet, rolled into a ball, and put one paw across her nose, purring herself softly into sleep.
RING!
The phone shattered the peacefulness, and Hope stood and hissed at it as Horatio reached out, automatically moving to answer it while still waking up. "Hello." Calleigh pushed herself up reluctantly on one elbow and stared at the clock. 4:00 a.m. She felt like hissing herself.
"H, sorry to wake you up." It was Chris, night shift supervisor at CSI. "Did you go by Hermann's Jewelry recently?"
"Today. I mean, yesterday. Why?"
"I found your card here while processing the store."
"Robbery?"
"And murder. The owner was shot, and the store is almost turned inside out."
"I'll be right there." Horatio switched the bedside lamp on and turned to Calleigh apologetically. "The jewelry store was robbed, and the owner is dead."
"Go on," she said. "Give me a call later."
He kissed her quickly. "I love you."
"I love you, too." He stood up and started to get dressed. Hope settled back down in a disgusted bundle and buried her head under a fold of the covers. Calleigh didn't get up, but she lay there following him with her ears after he switched off the light. He crossed the hall, stepped into Rosalind's room for a minute, went into the bathroom, then exited the house. From a distance, she heard the Hummer wake to life, and he was gone. The darkness and silence returned, but they were no longer peaceful. The house was tense, uneasy, waiting. Somewhere out there in the night, the undefined but obviously real enemy was stalking.