Happy New Year everyone! I hope 2020 brings you everything you want!
xXBalorBabeXx, Well, since the real Seth tends to be very vocal (putting it mildly) I figured dog Seth would have to be too!
Skovko, Haha, not quite. But Seth did try hard to get her hat for you!
Rebel8954, Even though dog Seth is far too feisty and proud to admit it, that little fur ball loves his Dean (and hates almost everything else!)
Mandy, Hope you had a good New Year's and have heard from at least one of the companies by now? I've been keeping my fingers crossed for you! But hopefully in the meantime the first chapter of 2020 (can you believe it!) will help!
ViolentHugger03, I couldn't resist. Seth as a small yappy dog just seems to 'fit' somehow. Especially early Shield Seth. Whoo boy he was yappy!
Wolfgirl2013, My Christmas was nice and quiet and relaxing (with too much food!) Hope you had a good one too?
Guest, Thank you!
Cheryl24, Yeah, I have a feeling that Seth won't be invited back to that church anytime soon!
XwwecoyoteX, Next decade, here we go (what a wild thought!) Was that Dean causing chaos in that last chapter though, or Seth? (No, you're right, it's always Dean!)
Minnie1015, If dog Seth was a seeing eye dog then his poor person would just spend their life stood under a tree while he yapped at a squirrel. Seeing eye dog Seth wouldn't care anymore than private detective dog Seth, lol!
LunaticMischief, Aww, glad you liked it! There's always room for a bit of humour in my stories, especially if Dean or dog Seth are involved!
Phoenix lord of rebirth, Thank you so much! And thank you more for being there each chapter of the last year and following my crazy mind/stories. Here's to 2020!
First chapter of a new decade!
EIGHTEEN
Mr and Mrs Boseman live three hours out of Cinci in a cute little house with a flagpole out in front and blue painted weatherboarding and neat hanging baskets. Which means it doesn't look like the house of a potential villainess who had helped to murder and string up her roommate so she could run off with her husband.
Plus Mrs Boseman makes cakes and no one who bakes cakes could have given birth to a murderer. Or at least Dean likes to think so.
"Another slice dear?" Marilyn Boseman asks, picking a plate up and depositing a sticky piece of apple cake down onto it. He already has a macaroon on his kneecap and a helping of pound cake stuffed into his mouth, but since the apple cake looks and smells like heaven, he simply takes it with a nod, spitting crumbs everywhere,
"Thanks."
"And you dear, can I tempt you with a strawberry shortcake?"
Roman shakes his head and then smiles,
"Thank you ma'am, but I would hate to eat everything you made for the bake sale," he puts some added stress on the last couple of words and then throws a pointed look at his partner, who has a blob of apple frosting smeared across his nose and is stuffing his cheeks like a squirrel in winter and who is also oblivious to it, since he looks up and shrugs.
"What?"
"But I would love some more of this tea if you've got some," the bigger man continues smoothly holding up his china cup, which is so damn flimsy he thinks he might break it.
Mr Boseman positively lights up in pride,
"Of course. Another cup of Southern sweet tea coming up dear and I'll bring some more macaroons," she winks at Dean, then bustles from the room past her grey headed husband, who lifts a brow at them,
"Uh, sorry about that, but it's been kind of a while since we last had folks over. You know, ever since Jenni was – ,"
Institutionalized.
Roger Boseman doesn't say the word outright, but both of the visitors know what he means. Or must do, since even the scruffy copper blonde private detective stops shovelling in cake crumbs and blinks,
"Is that her?"
He points to a photograph perched on the mantle of a redheaded youngster in a communion gown, beaming proudly up at the camera in what looks like the leafy front yard of the house. In response Roger Boseman wrestles loose a pair of glasses and then blinks towards the frame before smiling,
"Yeah that's her, guess she must have been ten or eleven there, before all of the depression and whatnot kicked in," he sighs at that part and then flaps a loose hand up, like he's not too sure what depression even is, or like maybe in his day the mentally encumbered preferred to keep it to themselves and be miserable alone. Although there's something sort of weary and defeated in the gesture.
Roman clears his throat,
"And when did that come on? If you don't mind me asking?"
Evidently he does.
"You said you're looking for her?
"Uh, yeah," Dean steps in, brushing crumbs off his fingers as he switches from cake to the waiting macaroon. He glances at Roman, "The folks at Blue Skies were worried about her, you know, like takin' off, so they kinda hired me an' the big guy here to find her."
Which is a lie. A god damn huge colossal lie, but still better than telling her poor worried father they suspect his daughter dressed up as her friend so she could keep on having an affair with her husband while they bumped her off together and made it look like suicide. Not that it makes Roman feel any better about lying. Which is why it's Dean who says it.
Roman can't.
He just can't.
"Here we are," Mrs Boseman trills cheerfully, breezing back into the room, with the small replenished cup and what looks like a platter of macaroons and strawberry shortcakes that make Dean's eyes nearly launch out of his head, "Now, what did I miss?"
Her husband sucks a breath in,
"The boys here were asking about Jennifer."
"Oh," Marilyn sits down on the arm of the sofa like her legs have given out. She's a petite little thing, with short white hair and gold earrings and in many ways she reminds Roman of his own beloved mom, nine hundred miles away in Tampa who would probably also have loved feeding Dean up. And probably Seth and even Carl the damn pigeon. Mrs Boseman bites her lip and then composes herself, although her eyes still look damn near imploring, "Do you think you can find her?"
Roman nods,
"We hope so, but we need to ask a few questions about her, if that sounds okay?"
She nods,
"Of course, anything, just so long as you find my baby. It's been a month now and nothing. Not a word. It's just not like her and I know she has problems, but she's never gone out of touch with us like this before. Not once and when they said she'd left Blue Skies – ,"
She breaks off and turns her hands up like she's totally clueless, which she probably is. When Roman gets home he's going to hug his own daughter super hard for about an hour and possibly never let her go. Putting down his tea cup he slides himself forwards and then squeezes her hand gently as Dean takes a napkin and wraps up a macaroon and a strawberry shortcake. For the drive home he guesses.
"Did you know she was struggling to pay for her room? The people at Blue Skies said she ran out of money."
Roger Boseman sighs,
"No, she didn't tell us anything. Last we heard she was starting to get better. Not that we could have much helped anyhow," he looks up and then glances around the room with a hand wave, "This here house is pretty much all we own, although we'd have tried. I mean, I have a few savings."
"I just wish she'd said something," Marilyn puts in with a sob, before wrestling a crumpled up tissue from her sweater which she dabs at her eyes with.
Her husband pats her knee,
"Now now."
"But she could be anywhere," the woman sniffs brokenly, "She could be on the streets or out of her mind. I mean, she hasn't been home, or used her cards, or called anyone – ,"
"Well that's why we're here," Roman puts in, not mentioning that his partner has theories on those things and that all of them end with Jennifer laying low in Hurley's bed. Clearing his throat he changes the subject, "Did she ever mention Ella, her roommate at Blue Skies?"
Mrs Boseman nods. And sniffs, but nods mostly,
"Oh yes, those two were thicker than thieves. Jen loved Ella and you know, they looked so similar. Apart from the hair they were like two peas in a pod and a great help to each other. Jen used to say that Ella saved her life in there. She would have done almost anything for her."
Out of guilt for sleeping with her husband perhaps?
Roger Boseman shifts in his armchair,
"We uh, read about it in the papers. What happened to Ella I mean, dreadful shame. She was such a lovely lady and granted, we may have only met her the once, but she seemed so determined and headstrong and vibrant," he shakes his head, "It's tragic. I guess you just never know."
Roman feels Dean sort of bristle beside him at the inference that Ella chose to take her own life. Like he has done from pretty much the moment he had found her, or like part of him thinks the suicide-murder was his fault. Putting out a hand Roman palms his partner's neck line to stop him blurting something out, then turns back to Jennifer's folks, since it's probably best that he asks the next question.
"Did Jennifer ever mention Ella's husband at all?"
"Who, Chris?"
Marilyn blinks,
"Oh yes, she mentioned him a few times. Said he was always coming by to see his wife. Although from the sounds of it Ella wasn't receptive. Not that I want to be a tattletale or anything."
Dean blinks at her,
"What d' ya mean not receptive?"
"Well, you know," Marilyn Boseman lowers her voice, like she thinks Chris Hurley might be in the kitchen, or have sent Batista round to wiretap the house. Which is one of the few things that Ambrose will not do, although Roman hasn't got around to asking him why, "Jenn said they were having a few problems with their marriage. Evidently Ella wanted to file for divorce, but Chris kept showing up and trying to win her over. Poor Jenn felt so sorry for him."
Dean snorts,
"I bet she did."
Roman gives him a nudge in the ribcage and then carries on, as delicately as he can, given the topic he's about to broach with them. Or possibly drop on them.
He sucks in a breath,
"Did Jennifer ever mention Mr Hurley coming onto her, or uh, taking an interest when he came by to see his wife?"
Marilyn frowns and then glances at her husband. They both look confused,
"Good heavens, of course not. I mean, not that Jennifer isn't attractive and I know they look the same, but frankly, even if he did then Jennifer would never have taken him up on it. She wasn't like that and she loved Ella too much."
Roger frowns at them,
"Now why on earth would you ask that?"
"No reason," Roman shrugs, although his mind is in a whirl, because either the Bosemans are very wrong about their daughter, or they're way off with their theory. Or Dean's theory at least, "One of the staff members mentioned a mix up. Chris Hurley thought Jennifer was Ella one day and tried to kiss her, although he says it was an accident."
Dean lets out a little huff at that part, which thankfully seems to go unnoticed as Marilyn nods, looking relieved.
"Oh, well, like I said they did look very similar, I mean, even I got those girls mixed up some days and especially when Ella was wearing that white headscarf."
Dean blinks at her open mouthed,
"White headscarf?"
"Oh yes, Ella was always wearing one of those things, I think it reminded her of classic Hollywood chic. But the first time I saw her I thought she was Jennifer and well, I mean, I learned after that, but I can totally see why poor Mr Hurley would have gotten confused once. It's very easily done."
Beside him Dean is staring back in bewilderment and Roman knows what he's thinking. Maybe it was Ella he'd met. Maybe it wasn't the lookalike after all. Although as quickly as he's thought it, he seems to harden again, or at least by the way his jaw sort of clenches and his eyebrows narrow in. He's so certain he's right.
But what if he's not?
What if Ella did kill herself?
Marilyn Boseman leans in with a sniffle and then grabs Roman's hand before he finishes the thought, or frankly can even begin to start to process what they've learnt about Jennifer, or Ella, or Chris. Fighting a sob back, she squeezes his fingers and then dabs at her eyes with the screwed up tissue ball before staring him dead in the face and half begging him,
"Please find our daughter."
Roman nods at her,
"We will."
Next week, things take a turn...