202
Aligned Design
Ch 37
"Do you want to stop and get some breakfast?" Eames asked Bobby.
"It's up to you."
Eames was hungry now that they were away from that stench. She caught a whiff of it from Bobby's clothes. It would dissipate. That is all Gleason needs to smell, ha!
"What are you hungry for? Fast food? No, not fast food. Let's go eat like civilized people." Eames drove on.
Bobby was thinking about the hose. He thought about Mike. He wondered, what would two men do with a foot-long piece of hose like that? What would you . . . ? How would you . . . ? Where would you . . . ? Oh . . . yeah . . . yeah, sure. Ok. Well, we will get some good DNA out of that.
"How's this?" Eames had pulled into a family style restaurant with all day breakfasts.
Bobby said nothing and got out.
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Gleason stood in the road. It was perfectly silent. She listened, but did not hear anything. The corn did not rustle, the leaves on the trees ahead on the left hung still, as if in a painting. No birds sang, no one laughed or cried. Where is everybody, she wondered. She began to walk down the road.
There is someone, down there, beyond the stone wall. Who is that? Those men, who are they? She started down the road again. She kept her eye on them. They are talking. Wait, that one man is holding a child.
I know those men! I know that child, that's my little boy. That's Bobby with our son! He's talking to Gavin! She called out to them, but made no sound. I want to speak with them. She called out another silent greeting.
She watched Gavin reach and stroke the child's head. She was getting closer, closer than she'd ever been. She could see Bobby's face. Oh, how happy he is! Their son was being shy and looked away from Gavin, back over Bobby's shoulder. She wanted to see his face. She reached the place where the rail fence met the stone wall and made the turn toward the two men.
Suddenly they turned and began to walk away. Wait, she called silently. Wait!
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Deakins turned off the alarm before it went off, as he did most mornings. He lay next to his wife, thinking how old he felt. He was tired; he had gotten, what, two, three hours max. His body felt heavy, thick. He was in good shape for a man his age, he just felt old. At one point last night, making love with Angie actually felt like work. It was great, but it was obvious he is no longer a kid.
Technically, he was off this weekend. Technically, he was never off. He turned over and kissed Angie's shoulder, then got up. He showered, dressed casually and went back to his sleeping wife.
"Hey," he whispered, smoothing her hair. "Ange? I'm going to go. Ange?"
"Hmmm?" Angie roused and looked up at him. "What time is it?"
"It's just after six. They found two bodies last night; one of them is a suspect in the art heist. I'm going to go in and see what Eames and Goren found out. I'll be back after lunch."
"Ok, be careful. Would you look – "
"Yes, I'll look in on her. Let's do something tonight. Go to a movie or something. Maybe Julie would go, too." He raised his eyebrows at this and Angie smiled. Deakins bent down and kissed his wife as he had every morning of their married life. "Love you."
"I love you, too."
Jimmy Deakins pulled shut their bedroom door and checked in on their sleeping daughter. Let this be a good day, he silently prayed.
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"Thanks," Eames said to the server. Bobby was being quiet. He seemed preoccupied. "Everything OK?" she asked.
Bobby wiped his hands over his face and then said, "Yeah, sure. I'm just really tired."
Eames nodded. "How's Gleason doing? She seemed kind of queasy this morning."
Bobby's head dropped toward his left shoulder. His eyes closed and his hands folded. Should I say anything, he wondered. He wanted to ask Eames about what was going on with Gleason. She would know, she had been pregnant with her nephew.
"Uhm, uh . . ." Bobby's hands began to move. Eames watched him struggle.
"Bobby, is Gleason OK?"
He exhaled and covered his face with his hands again. "She, she's –,"
"Here's your orange juice, tea and coffee. Would you like water, too?" the server set down the drinks and smiled broadly. The detectives both looked up. Eames nodded.
"Thanks," said Bobby. The server left and he took his juice, draining half of it. "So, what are you missing today?" The moment and opportunity were over.
Eames looked at him knowingly. "I'm not missing anything. What about you and Gleason?" He said nothing. "Bobby what's going on? Is she ok?"
Red began to seep into his field of vision. His hands clenched. He rolled his head and shut his eyes. Eames watched him seethe. "Ok, ok, forget it. Bobby, it's ok. You found that piece of hose. Is that the murder weapon, do you think?" Eames was desperate to change the subject. She did not want him to lose it in here.
Bobby's head began to pound. He forced himself to take deep breaths. His frustration was killing him. He wanted to know what the fuck was wrong with Gleason, he wanted to ask Eames – she would know about this stuff. Ask her you idiot! She's right here. You trust Eames. Ask her. ASK HER! But he didn't.
Instead, he said, "Yeah, I think so. I'm pretty sure the wire around it will match the ligature marks on the artist's neck. I sent it with the bodies to the ME. There's got to be DNA in it."
"What? DNA in it? Oh, do I even want to know?" Her face wrinkled up in disgust.
Bobby lowered his voice, "Well, I was told that in addition to being used in home brewing, it's, uh, used by gay men in a sex act."
Eames looked at him skeptically, "You were told? By whom? Or, do I not want to know that, either?"
Bobby looked at her, he raised his eyebrows, he nodded, his head tilted. Eames looked back at him thinking, whom did he talk to about this that would have told . . . oh, my God! "Mike?" she whispered. Bobby just looked at her. "Are you saying that Mike is gay? Did he tell you this?"
Bobby shifted in his seat and replied, "Not in so many words."
"So, what is the sex act? Did he tell you?"
Bobby looked down at the tabletop; he couldn't look at her. "No, he didn't tell me. But, but I, I think I figured it out." He glanced up at his partner. Does she need to know this? Does she even want to know? He looked back down and did not say any more.
They sat silently for a long moment. "All right. Tell me. What do two guys do with twelve inches of hose?"
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Jenese stretched and reached for his lover. Tillman felt his lover's hand and moved closer. They lay together, spooning – always fun for those two as it always led to something more. Jenese nibbled Tilley's neck. Tilley's hand moved to his own goods. He pulled, stretching out his length; he stiffened faster stretched out. He wanted to stiffen fast, Jenny was always eager in the morning.
Jenese was already hard. He moved his hips slowly. Tilley pushed his ass tighter against Jenny's crotch and Jenny began to move his rod between Tilley's legs. Tilley could feel the other man's breath quicken on his neck. Tilley stroked faster, tighter.
"C'mere, in my mouth. C'mere," breathed Jenese and he rolled onto his back. Tilley turned and straddled his lover's head tilting his penis toward the tongue licking up at him.
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Bobby had never been so uncomfortable. So, he went clinical. "Think about it, Eames. A length of hose, foot long, open at both ends, open inside. Expandable, flexible hose, wider when pushed together and then tighter when stretched. About an inch and a quarter wide . . . what could two guys do with it? Where would they put it?" He watched her process these bits of information. He saw imagination dawn to understanding. She looked up at him; eyes wide open.
"You don't mean . . . one on – in – each end . . . oh, Bobby, that's, that's just – sick."
"It's kind of like those Chinese handcuffs we had when we were kids. You know, those thin tubes woven of shaved bamboo strips – one finger in each –."
"I get it, I get it."
"Here you are, a cheese and onion omelet with home fries, sausage links and wheat toast for you," said the server, setting the plate in front of Eames. "And for you, sir, two eggs over medium, home fries, bacon, and country toast. Can I get you anything else right now?" She smiled at the two and they shook no.
Eames looked at her sausages, "Do you want these? I can even look at them without seeing that piece of hose."
"Are you sure," Bobby asked.
"Here, eat up," said Eames, spearing the sausages and dropping them onto Bobby's plate. He smiled.
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"Mitter Bobby? Mitter Bobby Lay-dee? Mitter Bobby? Mitter Bobby Lay-dee?" Estella had let herself in and called softly. She walked quietly down the hall, opened the bedroom door a bit and peeked in. Gleason was alone and sound asleep.
Estella smiled and thought to herself, de preddy lady need her rett, she growing a baby. She donn know, but she growing a baby, yet she is. Estella smiled broadly, waked back down the hall, bent and picked up the laundry basket.
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Dr. Elizabeth Rodgers looked at the two bodies. Animals do such thorough work, she thought looking at Navicky's ripped and shredded lips and left cheek, the lips nearly gone. She examined Pangborn's fingertips. A few nails remained, hanging by cuticle.
Rodgers went to Navicky's head and peered into the two holes with a high power light and scope; she caught a reflection from one slug, she would have to work to get the other one. She did the same with the holes in the back of Pangborn's head. Both of those were buried somewhere deep inside. What a way to spend a Saturday, she thought.
She went to the evidence bag and opened it. Rodgers pulled out the length of hose and thought, what did Goren find this time. She thought she could see a dried substance in the center and along the inside.
Rodgers went to her phone and dialed Goren's cell.
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"Captain, I thought you were off this weekend," Sledge said to Deakins. Sledge had just stepped from the men's room when Deakins stepped from the lift.
"Yeah, so did I," Deakins replied. "Is your partner in?"
"Not yet."
"When she shows, I want to see you both in my office."
Sledge nodded and headed to his desk. Deakins walked to his. He was going to tell Sledge and Bishop he was tossing the missing uranium case back to the Feds. They didn't need to be doing all the leg work for a case they would not get a mention. Besides, he wanted Sledge and Bishop available to work this art heist. Upstairs was getting antsy.
Deakins was concerned about his department's solve rate. He had had a memo mentioning that his department's 'cost per hour per solve rate' was slipping. His people had to pick up the pace. Deakins thought that the memo came on the heels of Bobby's being off for those weeks. He did not want to believe that one individual could carry a whole department in that way; but it was starting to look that way.
Deakins noticed that Goren and Eames hadn't returned yet. He wanted to talk with them as well. He really wanted to talk with Eames, however. I hope Bobby was a good boy, I want to put him back out at scenes. He sees things, thinks of things. Deakins' phone rang and he reached for it.
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Bobby and Eames were getting into the car when Bobby's cell rang. "Goren."
"What do you want me to do with this piece of hose?" Dr. Rodgers was a woman of few words.
"Yeah, that hose. Well, we need an examination of the DNA from the inside. There will probably be more than one person's DNA in there."
"What is that in there, do you know?"
"You tell us. But I think it's semen."
Rodgers was quiet for a few seconds. Then, "Are you telling me two men ejaculated into this piece of hose?"
"Ah, yeah, I think so."
"Jesus. Goren, when are you going to give me something normal? Something that doesn't stir up all kinds of mental images. I'll do the hose first. Bye."
Bobby flipped shut his phone. He and Eames drove to OPP in silence.