Time to pay a visit to Ella's rehab clinic and meet a few new people. Get your suspect lists back out…
Rebel8954, I kind of loved the idea of dog Brock being a big goober. Honestly, I think the real Brock should adopt some of this into his onscreen persona. It would do him the power of good!
xXBalorBabeXx, Roman is a mix of angry, worried and brotherly...so standard Roman stuff really. Or at least it is when Dean is around!
Cheryl24, Seth is definitely okay. He got to attack some people, so that makes what happened last chapter a good night for him!
Wolfgirl2013, Thanks!
Minnie1015, Well, you'll get your angst and drama a lot more in this story (who can resist protective Roman after all? Not me, that's for sure) but right now we've got to keep this mystery train a-rollin'!
XwwecoyoteX, Aww, your poor grandad. I've had concussion before and it is not much fun! Glad you're loving slobbery dog Brock. He's way better than the real thing (if I say so myself). As always, I can neither confirm or deny your murder theories, but I certainly love reading them! I only hope the real ending lives up to the ones that people are guessing!
Skovko, Hmmm. Interesting theory...but you don't expect me to give you any clues do you? You definitely know me better than that! Throwing another couple of suspects at you here. You know, just for fun!
Mandy, How is the job searching going? Sorry you got a rejection last week, but it's their loss! Glad you liked the last chapter. Writing Dean and Roman's growing friendship is so much fun sometimes, especially writing Roman just accepting Dean's quirks. Those two are a writer's gift!
ViolentHugger03, I think Seth's greatest reward is that he got to bite at someone's ankles. But he's definitely not going to say no to a fillet steak! Poor Brock, he just doesn't have that killer instinct (unlike real Brock!)
I-Am-WarKitten, Hurt/comfort is my specialty (I like to think anyway!) Plenty more of it coming up in this story too! Yep, the good news is that I've got a couple of new ideas for the taskforce stories. It's just trying to find the time to write them down!
Phoenix lord of rebirth, Roman definitely has his hands full looking after Dean in this story. But then again, is it even Roman if he's not worrying about his boy?! Glad you're still enjoying it because there's plenty more to come!
The mystery deepens...
ELEVEN
"Welcome to Blue Skies, how can I help you?" the pretty little blonde behind the desk chirps their way, before looking up and catching a load of the shiner that is squinting back down at her and then recoiling, "Oh my – ,"
Dean smirks lopsidedly,
"Yeah, you ought to see the other guy."
"Hey baby girl, we're here to see Dr Merrick," Roman distracts her by smiling warmly across the desk, even though his own first reaction to Dean's injury had mostly been the same. Well, that and angry as hell. Especially when Sunny had stopped him in the hallway blowing smoke in his face,
"Hey, muscles, in here."
Pushing her door wide – which had kind of alarmed him, since given her job he hadn't known what to expect – he had straight up gaped at the sight of his partner sprawled over her bedsheets looking beaten to shit.
"Babe – ,"
"I told you Roman," he had grinned back lethargically, which had pretty much proven the copper blond was concussed, "I freakin' told you that Ella Hurley was murdered. Somebody tried to fuckin' warn me off the case."
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah," Dean had lied back cheerfully. Too cheerfully for Roman's liking, "But Brock was like, zero help."
It had taken ten minutes and a whole lot more coaxing to get him up the stairs into the office after that and another fifteen for Roman to find the first aid kit beneath all of the paperwork and apply the ice and salve. None of which had stopped Dean from rambling,
"Hurley. I mean, it freakin' has to be him. Because one minute we're there tellin' him our names or whatever, an' the next m' like, bein' beaten to hell, an' bein' told to leave things alone an' all that shit. I told you uce. I told you."
"I know, I know. Hey, sit still."
It had taken another half an hour – or maybe longer – to get Dean back down the stairs into the car and then forty five to beat the rush hour traffic to the clinic on the outskirts where they are currently stood, against pretty much all of Romans insistences that what Dean needed was to tell the police and possibly himself get checked out at a hospital, but both of which suggestions had been solidly rebuked.
"Come on uce, you heard what that Hackett thought of me. He'll just think this is someone else I pissed off. We need like, real solid evidence or somethin'."
"Fine," Roman had sighed, like he did with his kid when she wanted to have ice cream but hadn't eaten her vegetables, "If I drive you to Blue Skies then will you go and get checked out?"
"Deal," Dean had shrugged.
Hence the reason they are stood there, grinning down at the receptionist like a pair of Cheshire cats.
The blonde woman falters apologetically,
"Oh, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that Dr Merrick is fully booked for today. Although maybe if you'd like to make an appointment, then – ,"
"Tell him it's about Ella Hurley," Dean grunts, making not only the blonde stop suddenly, but all of the other women sat behind the desk as well.
She picks up the phone,
"If you could just wait a minute."
"Of course baby girl," Roman soothes her gently, "Thanks."
In the meantime Dean has turned back into the waiting room, which is a typical private clinic type affair, with a white polished floor and white sterile seating and an actual water feature in the middle of the room, which the copper blonde is lazily tossing a coin into, in spite of the fact that it is not a wishing well. Someone behind the desk sort of harrumphs in disgust at him as Roman pats his shoulder,
"Hey babe, how do you feel?"
Dean snorts,
"Kinda like I got one side of my head creamed in by a masked fuckin' killer in the freezin' cold last night. But other than that," he shrugs, "Pretty awesome."
He tosses another coin in and yep, still not a wishing well. Not that Roman has the heart to tell him that though. Instead he clears his throat,
"Are you sure about this babe? Because you know, it's still not too late for you to back out and leave this thing alone like they told you."
Dean shakes his head,
"Nah, I mean, I thought about it, but it kinda takes a lot more n' that to freakin' scare me. M' kind of a whore for the danger, you know? An' besides, it makes a change from like, stakin' out houses an' takin' photos of husbands freakin' cheatin' on their wives. But," he shrugs, "I mean, if you wanna back out of it, then I like, totally get it. Because you got a kid. So the last thing you want is people tryin' 'a kill ya."
Roman ruffles his hair,
"Nope, I'm good and besides, I'm just the damn secretary, remember? No one comes after the secretary."
"Office manager," Dean corrects, as the perky blonde woman back on reception puts down the phone and then smiles,
"Well gentlemen, it looks like you're in luck. Dr Merrick can see you in between his morning patients," she pushes herself up onto white heels, "Please follow me."
Swiping her staff pass, she leads them from the entrance with its modern water feature come newly-fashioned-wishing-well and out into an open air quad filled with shrubbery and with – yep – yet another fountain in the middle of it all, throwing jets up into the air like a geyser before dropping them down into cross shaped koi pool. In-patients dressed in white smocks are gathered around it, or are stood around the flower beds helped by blue clad staff and there are doors on all sides to what look to be bedrooms and a variety of weird treatment and wellness rooms.
The pretty blonde hiccups,
"It's so sad about Mrs Hurley. I was reading all about it in the paper today," she shakes her head, "Jenni must be devastated."
Dean blinks at her,
"Who's Jenni?"
"Her roommate while she was here," the blonde shrugs, "Or, I mean, for most of it anyway, since Jenni had to leave us a couple of weeks back. But before Ella left, those two were super friendly and so similar looking. It was actually kind of weird. Except for the fact that Jenni had red hair, while poor Mrs Hurley was a blonde, just like me. Even though she totally dyed it. She would have had to at her age."
"Uh, did you say they looked the same?" Roman asks, shooting a glance at his partner and finding the sharp blue eyes staring back. Evidently following his wavelength,
"You think the woman at the park – ,"
Roman shrugs,
"I don't know. But I mean, you did say it had to be a lookalike and now it kinda seems like we got one after all."
"Oh yes," the blonde nods back, not hearing their conversation as she buzzes them into one of the buildings across the quad. In spite of the cold November weather blowing around them, inside the air conditioning is clearly turned on, which makes the place feel even more sterile. Which Roman hadn't thought was even possible.
But there it was.
"Uh, you said this Jenni had to leave?"
"It happens," the blonde shakes her head, "Treatment can get expensive here and sometimes people just run out of money. Which is why Doctor Merrick is introducing The Global Fund."
Dean blinks,
"The what?"
"The Global Fund," she beams proudly, before reciting what can only be a memorized pamphlet read-out, "Dr Merrick believes that mental health care should be for everyone, so he set up The Global Fund to provide for those patients in need. The idea is that those of our clients who are wealthy – or donors who want their hard earned money to do some good – contribute to the fund which then goes to the needy so they can afford the fees we have here."
"So why not just lower your fees?" Dean frowns back at her. The woman smiles brightly, not seeing the problem,
"But we don't need to. We have the fund and," she lowers her voice to a whisper, like she's sharing a secret over a pedicure with her friends, since she's all blue eyes and blonde hair and giggles, "I hear poor Mr Hurley is going to chip in. You know in memory of poor Mrs Hurley. He phoned Dr Merrick and made the offer last night, which means that we can help lots of people like Jennifer."
"But not Jennifer herself?" Roman clarifies,
"No," the blonde bites her lip, "The fund is still a work in progress and poor Miss Boseman – that's Jenni's name by the way – left too early to be able to use it."
"I see."
"Oh," she blinks suddenly, "Whoops, I shouldn't have said that. Dr Merrick is very strict on confidentiality and things."
Dean waves a hand then wraps an arm around his waistline as one or else all of his battered ribs twinge, which Roman doesn't fail to notice with a hitch of raw fury that makes his meaty fists clench.
"Nah, don't worry about it. You're good. Because the two of us are like, private detectives, so we're real good with secrets an' like, not revealin' stuff."
"Wow, you're detectives?" the girl gasps excitedly as Roman scratches his head awkwardly,
"Well, uh – ,"
"Yep," Dean carries on, like it's not even a question and sounding weirdly kind of proud of it, "That's us alright. Ambrose an' Reigns. So trust us. You can tell us freakin' anythin' an' no one will know."
"Really?" the young woman stops and her eyes seem to dart around for a second like she's debating potentially telling them something big.
"Really baby girl," Roman puts in warmly, which – as usual – seems to do the trick,
"Okay," she grins, "Although I probably shouldn't say it, but it did seem weird that Mr Hurley was chipping in. Especially given all the problems in their marriage."
"What problems?" Roman frowns sharing a quick look with Dean.
The woman shrugs,
"Well from what I hear they had all kinds of trouble and they'd basically been living apart for years. Poor Mrs Hurley hated her husband, but couldn't divorce him because she signed a prenup, which meant she would have ended up with like, nothing, so really it's no wonder she did what she did. Plus Mr Hurley would make eyes at anyone. He even flirted with me once when he was here to see his wife. And he used to hit on Jennifer. The man is a scumbag. Oh," she trills, "Here we are."
They have arrived – evidently and without any warning – right outside Dr Merrick's office door, which she raps on twice then swings open with a throat clear,
"Dr Merrick. It's the two men I called you about. They wanted to speak to you about Mrs Hurley."
A face looks up from the desk,
"Send them in."
Dr Merrick is not what Roman had expected. Mainly since he isn't over sixty years old, or bespectacled with a pepper pot hairstyle. Because instead he looks maybe mid-forties if that, with a thick head of hair that has been styled back neatly and with well clipped facial hair and sharp brown eyes. He stands from his desk in order to greet them and it turns out that he's taller than Roman had figured him too, since he must be the same height as them. If not taller and well-built too.
"Well, good morning gentlemen," he smiles, reaching to offer each one of them a handshake, which perhaps unsurprisingly is also super strong. Although it falters a little as he swings it to Ambrose and catches a glimpse of the black, swollen eye.
"Goodness, what happened to you? Oh, thank you Cassie," he nods to the blonde still hovering in the door, who giggles a little like she's just met her hero and then skitters away.
Dean shrugs,
"Oh, you know. Can't make an omelette without breakin' a few eggs, right? Well, turns out I'm the omelette."
Dr Merrick sort of blinks and then gestures to an exam bed he has in one corner of the bright and airy room,
"Here, allow me to have a look."
"Nah," Dean shrugs, "I'm – ,"
"Thank you Doctor," Roman buts in, gently shoving his partner towards the white coat as Merrick turns on the overhead lighting and pulls on a pair of gloves, "We'd appreciate that."
As Dean climbs up onto the table with a grumble, Merrick leans in closer and then starts to prod, while at the same time keeping up a friendly type patter as if he often patches total strangers up in his office, "So how can I help? Cassie said it was something to do with Ella – oh, excuse me, Mrs Hurley I mean. Does this hurt?"
"Fuck," Dean barks back at him, jolting in outrage as Dr Merrick pokes his cheek.
Roman clears his throat
"We're private detectives. Ambrose here had business with Mrs Hurley before she died."
"Oh? What kind?" Dr Merrick asks frowning, as he probes at Dean's injury and then starts to feel along his jaw.
Dean waits for him to stop,
"The nothin' you need to know kind. 'Cos you ain't the only one with patient confidentiality an' stuff."
Merrick snaps his gloves off,
"All done. Nothing broken, although there could be a hairline fracture of the eye socket I suppose and there does seem to be a very mild concussion, but Tylenol and rest should sort those both out."
"Thanks doc," Roman nods back at him in gratitude as Dean mutters something that fortunately no one seems to hear, "But we were wondering if you could help us try and tie some loose ends up."
"Aren't the police supposed to be doing that?" Merrick asks, perfectly reasonably all things considered, "I had a Detective Hackett come by last night, so I'm not sure what a couple of private detectives could ask that he didn't."
"Why did Ella Hurley check out of here?" Dean growls, hopping down off the bed with a grunt of frustration as it aggravates his beaten up ribcage some more, "An' why the frick did you tell Christopher Hurley that his wife was gettin better if she wasn't?"
"Because she was. Not that I have to explain things to either one of you," Merrick smiles thinly, "Because of, ahem, patient confidentiality and stuff."
Roman palms Dean on the nape and sighs,
"Listen – ," he's fast beginning to think that maybe this is his role. Calming Dean down and making the apologies every time the copper blonde gets too damn hot, "Me and Dean are gonna level with you here doc. We found Ella Hurley after she took her own life and Ambrose here has kinda taken that pretty badly, so anything you can think that might help us understand it would be a real help."
Merrick blinks at them a bit and then sits back down in his chair with grumble and a momentary wince,
"Sorry about that," he smiles, "Old injury. It flares up from time to time in cold weather," he has his arm pressed over his gut, but drops it to blow a reluctant sounding sigh out before throwing up a hand, "Fine. Ella was affected by the Jennifer thing."
Dean frowns,
"What, you mean her like, runnin' out of money?"
"No," Merrick blinks before narrowing his eyes, probably in bafflement about how he could know that, "That happened later, after Ella had left. The Jennifer incident took place some weeks before that when Christopher Hurley came to visit one day and was found – ," he shifts, "Making advances towards Jenni. I mean, poor Ella was horribly distraught and even though Christopher kept saying it was an accident no one believed him and Ella just seemed to go backwards after that. Checked herself out two weeks later – against my advice it has to be said. And that was that. I assumed she'd gone back home again, to the Hamptons, or to Christopher even. But obviously not. Other than that though, I'm not sure what else I can tell you."
"Um, Dr Merrick?" they're interrupted by a knock and a nervous looking man in the white scrubs of a patient peeking his head around the door,
"Ah, Steven come in," Merrick grins soothingly, "Don't be afraid now, these two men were just on their way out. Gentlemen," he nods extending his hand again, which Roman notices that Dean takes with a pained looking wince, "I hope I was of some help in unravelling this tragedy."
Roman nods back at him,
"Oh trust me brother, you were."
So, confused yet? I hope so. Next week we end up with more suspects. Or maybe less suspects. Because who knows anymore?! (Just kidding. I do).