207
Aligned Design
Ch 38
Gleason awoke and stayed still for a few minutes, waiting to see what her stomach was going to do. She turned and sat on the edge of the bed. Nothing, everything was staying put. She stood up and heard something in the front of the flat. Gleason glanced at the clock on Bobby's night table. Eleven-fourteen!
She headed down the hall and met Estella coming in the door holding the clothes basket full of clean, folded laundry.
"Mitter Bobby Lady! You sleep long time. You feel bedder? You hungry? I make you a good lunch." Estella set the basket on Bobby's chair.
"Estella, how are you? I was going to do those clothes."
"Oh no, Mitter Bobby Lady, I do dem. It my job to do dem. What you want for lunch, huh?"
"Estella, please, call me Gleason. Ok?"
Estella smiled broadly. "Soon we call you 'mamma' en Mitter Bobby 'pappa,' no?"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Eames, I'm not sure I want to wait for the ME's report on the hose or bodies. What do you say we just check in with Deakins and then head out?" Bobby asked as the came off the lift. Bobby was eager to get back to Gleason.
"Eager to get back to Gleason, are you?" Eames said with a smile. Bobby pursed his lips and looked down.
They entered the bull pen just behind Bishop. Sledge saw the three heading in and walked over, looking at Eames. "Bishop, Deakins wants to see us when you get it together."
"Good morning to you, too," she said to her partner and walked to her desk.
Sledge smiled at Alex, "What are you two doing here? I thought you were off this weekend?" His eyes never left Alex's eyes and she stared back at him, finally looking down. Bobby noticed the way they were looking at each other and took a step back. He bent over, looking at Eames from the side. An idea began to take shape. Eames . . . and Sledge? No. . .
Bobby straightened up and said, "Uh, the one-three found two bodies at a storage place in Brooklyn. One is a suspect in the art theft. We went to check them out. But we're not staying. Right, Eames?"
"Let's go see what the boss says." She glanced up at Sledge and then moved to her desk.
Bobby watched Sledge, wanting to see what he would do. He wasn't disappointed. Sledge watched Eames walk the whole way to her desk, then he watched her settle in. Sledge turned back, looked at Bobby and saw that Bobby knew. Bobby looked at Sledge and a small smile began to creep across his face.
"What? What do you think you know, Goren? Huh? You think you know something?"
Bobby smiled, looked at the floor, did a backwards two-step and put up two hands, "Hey, I just watch people and think. That's all I do." Then he looked up at Sledge, still smiling that smart-ass smile.
Sledge's face softened. "Yeah, well . . . so . . . anyway . . ." he cleared his throat, turned and walked away. Ha! thought Bobby – Eames and Sledge, who'd a thought it! He walked toward his desk still smiling.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Gleason was stunned. "What? Estella . . . what . . . are. No! Why would you say such a thing?" Gleason wrapped her arms across herself.
Estella was taken back. "Oh, oh, Mitt, I sorry. Sorry. I mean notting. Sorry." She turned and picked up the basket from the chair and stepped past Gleason. Gleason turned and watched the other woman walk down the hall. Gleason followed, but went into the bathroom instead.
Estella made the bed and began to put away the clothes. She pulled open the chest drawer where his socks go. She saw that it was empty. She shut it and opened another. Empty. What dees people do? she wondered. Estella turned to the dresser and pulled open a drawer. His tee shirts should be in this drawer. His jeans were stacked inside instead. She pushed it shut. Everyting id wrong here. I donn know notting no more. She stacked the folded clothes on the bed and set the basket in the bottom of the closet.
Gleason and Estella met in the hall. "Sorry, Mitt," Estella said sliding past the tall woman.
"Estella, wait." The other woman stopped short. "Estella, I, I'm sorry I answered the way I did."
Estella turned around, not making eye contact. "Mitt, you donn know you habb a baby in you?" Slowly she looked up
Gleason's hands went to her mouth, fingertips covering her lips. She couldn't move. Her eyes filled, she couldn't breathe.
"Mitt, you ok?" Estella stepped to Gleason and put a hand on each arm. "Come, sit in deh kitchen. Come sit." Estella led her to a chair in the kitchen and she sat. Estella was in high gear. First, she poured Gleason a glass of orange juice. "Here, drink dis, it good for you and for deh baby." Then she set the kettle on to boil and prepared the tea. She opened the tin bread box, peeked in and saw nothing. "No bread? Tsk!"
"Estella, sit, please. Sit down." Gleason barely whispered.
Estella stopped, looked at Gleason and slid into the chair across from her. She said nothing.
Gleason hugged herself and rocked slightly. She stared at the table cloth. "Why, why do you think I'm, I . . . why do you . . ." She could finish neither the thought nor the sentence.
Estella stared at the woman she'd come to look on as a lovely, tall, white daughter. She realized Gleason really didn't know. She recognized the fear. The denial. She saw that Gleason didn't want to be pregnant. "Oh, Mitt. Oh, Mitt. I see it. I see it in you eyes, you skin. Firss, I tink you just sick from deh shoot. An you was sick from deh shoot, but den you get bedder and den I see dat you and Mitter Bobby, you make a baby." She stopped and looked at the fear in the other woman's face.
No, no. She is wrong. I cannot. Cannot. No. Gleason felt panic rise. No, please, no. She began to cry into her hands. Estella was on her feet in a second and stood beside Gleason, arms around her, rocking her. "Shh, Mitt, shh. Id ok. Dis a good ting. A baby witt Mitter Bobby id a good ting. You see. You habb a good baby. Mitter Bobby be bery happy you give him a baby. Shh."
Gleason sobbed. The kettle began to whistle. Estella let go and turned off the stove, setting the kettle aside. "Mitt, I make you some tea. Den we talk, OK?"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Tilley finished jerking into Jenny's mouth and Jenny spit onto the sheet. He turned the other man over onto his knees and pushed him forward. He wiped up what he had spit with two finders and rubbed it where it would do the most good. He set himself, pushed twice and growled as he emptied.
Both men fell forward panting. Jenese rolled off his partner and asked, "Is Alphonse in the bathroom? We don't want to be rude."
Tilley called, "Alley, you in there? Come out, come out, wherever you are . . . but only to those who love you!" It was an old gay joke, but still made Jenny laugh, every time. "Alley? Alphonse."
Jenese sat up, then stood up. He walked toward the bathroom but stopped at the dresser. Sonofafuckingbitch!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Shut the door," Deakins said to Bishop and Sledge as they entered his office. "We're going to hand that uranium case back to the Feds. It's their pet anyway. We're just free labor for them. I want you two to assist Goren and Eames with this painting theft. This case needs to get done. It should have been done a week ago. I want you two to sit in on their debriefing from the scene. Then the five of us will divvy up the work. That's it."
Neither Sledge nor Bishop had made a comment. They walked back to their areas. Silently, they were both glad to be rid of the uranium case. The Feds had been impossible to work with. Pushy, bossy, uppity and inconsiderate. Sledge was happy to be able to work closer with Alex. Damn that Goren, sniffing out what was going on. Sledge thought, Goren will be cool with it, though. What's Alex going to say when she learns that Goren figured it out. What she doesn't know can't hurt her, or piss her off, right?
"Goren, Eames – my office," the captain called to the other pair of detectives.
Bobby picked up his portfolio and waited for Eames to get her notepad. They walked over to the boss's office.
"Have a seat. I want to get this case done, it's been going on for too long. Sledge and Bishop are going to assist. They'll sit in on your report and then we'll see who does what. Bobby, go get them, will you?" Bobby stood and left the room. "How was he?"
"Good, good." Eames replied.
"I want specifics when we're done."
She nodded and the three other detectives returned.
"Ok, what's up with the bodies?"
For the next ten minutes, Bobby and Eames shared every detail of the scene. Eames was searching the system for any J.T. Pangborn. The storage facility owner was burning copies of the surveillance DVDs and would bring them by that afternoon; the security system was top of the line. Bobby explained the hose. Deakins just shook his head and wiped his face. Sledge made some kind of nasty, smart remark. And, Bishop just closed her eyes. Bobby did not name the source that had instigated the subsequent deduction. Don't ask, don't tell had always been a good idea, he thought.
Deakins suggested they call the ME to see where Rodgers was on the autopsies. He wanted them to run the stippling marks on the slugs from the bodies. Maybe the weapon had been used in a prior shooting. They had a lot to do.
"I want to close this as soon as possible. Anything else?" Bobby wanted to ask about leaving early; but he didn't, not after that last bit about closing the case quickly. No one said anything so Deakins continued, "Ok, get done what you can today. Keep me informed. That's it." The four stood and Deakins said, "Alex, a word please." She stopped and Bobby turned as well. He nodded to the captain as if he knew Alex was going to report on him. It was OK. He was fine at the scene. He turned back and headed to his desk.
"So, how'd he do?"
"He was good. His old self. Bobby was in top form."
"No flare ups? Nothing?"
Eames thought about telling Deakins about the moment in the restaurant when he'd tensed after she had asked one too many times about Gleason. Tell it all, she said to herself. She hesitated and Deakins called it.
"What happened?"
"Um, nothing really. In fact, he did a good job holding onto it. We stopped for breakfast after we left the scene and I was asking about Gleason. She's back, by the way. She was nearly sick in the sink this morning making coffee for us. Apparently, she had been sick earlier."
"Wait, wait. Gleason's back? When did she get back?"
"I don't know. She opened the door when I got to their flat at three or whenever it was."
"She was sick? What, the flu?" Then it began to take shape. Eames watched it dawn. Deakins looked at Bobby's partner. "Oh man, she was sick? This morning? Oh man." They looked at each other. "Is she?"
Eames looked down. "I don't know. It seemed like he wanted to tell me something or ask me something at the restaurant. I asked if she was ok and he kind of fought going off the second time I asked. I could see him seething, so I changed the subject and he was fine. It passed."
Deakins said again, "Oh man." He thought a moment and then said, "OK, finish up and then get out of here. He needs to be with her. Take him home. Let me know what you find out."
Eames nodded and headed to her desk.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Gleason wrapped her hands around the mug and looked at the table cloth. Estella sat across from her, stirring milk into her mug. Neither said anything for a moment.
"Mitt, you donn wan to habb dis baby?" Estella asked softly.
Gleason could not look up at the kind, older woman. She didn't know what she wanted. She had never considered the idea of having a child. Never.
"I, I . . . Estella . . . I."
"Do Mitter Bobby know you habb a baby in you?"
Gleason looked up at this. Estella could see that Gleason had not even thought about Bobby in this equation. "Estella I don't think I'm . . . I don't think it's so. I don't."
Estella looked at Gleason and knew this whole baby situation was not going to go well. She saw the new grey tint to the inner portion of Gleason's aura. This was not going to be a happy occasion. She felt a tremendous sadness in her heart.
She loved her Mitter Bobby as she would have loved a son. Looking after his home had given her such joy, even though she only saw him once a week, and often he wasn't even there. He was such a good man; she was proud of him and was in awe of his mother, the woman who made him into the man he had become. Then she had met Gleason, the woman her Mitter Bobby loved. Oh, he did love her, Estella had never seen such love in a man's aura. Gleason was a lucky woman. Gleason loved Bobby with the same passion, but her aura was wrinkled. Mitter Bobby's woman had suffered, she was so fearful, unsure. Estella had wanted to tell her not to worry, that she was safe in Mitter Bobby's love, they were meant to be together. But Estella had said nothing. Not everyone understood or accepted her sight.
Now Estella saw the grey in the center of Gleason's aura. She saw the light green and yellow underneath, but this layer was grey. It would not go well. And she was sad for her Mitter Bobby and his Lady Love. She reached over and took the Lady's hand and said slowly, softly, "Mitt, it be ok. You and Mitter Bobby habb each udder. It be ok. Tings work out. Dey do. You see." Estella squeezed Gleason's hand and then said, "Now, you eat somting. I make you a good lunch. What you want?"