The Palm Beach International airport was never a major hub of activity, except in mid-March when the Spring-Break overflow from Daytona Beach meant college students descended on the place for their annual week of drinking, mixed with a bit of boozing it up and alcohol consumption. But that was a couple of weeks into the rearview mirror and now, on Wednesday morning, it was almost as though Chris and Rita were by themselves walking through the place.
Security was a breeze for the two detectives and they had nearly an hour before their flight began boarding. Though airports were rarely considered 'centers of relaxation', it almost felt like a spa to Chris, compared with the previous day's flurry of activity.
Once Chris and Rita gave their consent to go undercover, it set off a chain reaction of responsibilities and tasks. Wardrobes befitting doctors of substantial means were assembled, they continued to polish and perfect their back-stories, and flights were arranged, along with a myriad of lesser details. The two of them remained in the office until late Tuesday night before heading straight home and collapsing into bed. Chris had called her again to make sure she was all right and Rita hadn't even bothered chewing him out. Not only was she too tired to care, there was no point trying to convince him that she was fine - until he simply decided to stop checking in on her, nothing she did or said would make a difference.
They located their gate and as they sat down to wait, Rita pulled out the itinerary. Under normal circumstances, it would have seemed that flying from Palm Beach to Jackson Hole made the most sense. That route, however, was long and included stops in Tampa, Dulles, and Denver before finally arriving in Jackson Hole. More important, though, was the fact that criminals had ways of finding things out. If they discovered a married couple from Maine had actually arrived from Florida, it might raise questions. It could be easily explained away as a vacation or a visit to relatives, but why leave the departure point to chance? Two officers were already dead due to mistakes - every precaution would be taken this time.
Therefore, the detectives were first flying to Maine. They would leave Palm Beach at eleven and, after a stop in Newark, would arrive in Portland at four. There they would check into a hotel room that had been booked for two weeks, but would emerge early the next morning as Greg and Samantha Stone, leaving behind everything tying them to Palm Beach, Chris Lorenzo, or Rita Lance. At that point, their new identities would go into effect and the Stones would board a 7:15 flight out of Portland that would arrive in Jackson Hole at noon, having stopped for an hour in Chicago. That gave Chris and Rita a few days to get acclimated, get a bit of recognition in the area, and solidify their cover. On the other hand, the longer they stayed, the greater the chance of blowing their cover. It was a delicate balance, but the two detectives were confident they could maintain.
As they boarded, Rita admitted she was not a fan of flying and especially hated the takeoffs. When Chris gave her a puzzled look, she continued. "Most plane crashes happen during or right after takeoff, Chris." Of course, when he asked for a source of that information, Rita stumbled with a few words, then finally gave up and just glared at him, "Well, I know I read it somewhere." She plopped down in the window seat, acting frustrated with her partner.
Chris laughed and said, "I can see you need a little space, so I'll just take the aisle seat." He looked around quickly and added, "It's not like there's going to be much traffic in here."
As it turned out, Newark must not have been a very popular destination for Palm Beach residents and, at least for today, visitors from Newark weren't anxious to get back home. Chris counted just nine passengers in total, and the closest to them were four rows back.
Of course, the nearly-empty plane meant that each passenger got a little more attention, and Rita couldn't help but notice that a young flight attendant - Courtney, according to her name tag - was giving Chris more than just a 'little more' attention. She looked to be in her mid-twenties and was incredibly pretty. After the two detectives stowed their bags and sat down, Courtney walked to the back of the plane, eyeing the two of them carefully as she passed. Rita watched her, guessing the attractive young woman was estimating their level of 'couple-ness'.
When going through the pre-flight safety check, Courtney stopped next to Chris and did her demonstrations, being sure to touch his shoulder a couple of times in the process. When she finished, she moved away, and Rita caught a whiff of her perfume - very nice.
Chris, oblivious to her intent, did nothing. Rita rolled her eyes and chuckled, both at Courtney's obvious interest and at Chris' lack of perception. Once airborne, as soon as the seat-belt sign was off, little Miss Courtney was back.
"Can I get the two of you anything? A pillow? A blanket?" Rita noticed her quick glance down as she spoke - the obligatory 'wedding-band' status check.
"I'm good for now, thanks," Chris said with a smile before turning to Rita. "Sam?"
"Oh, I'm great. I have everything I need," Rita said with a smile towards Chris, knowing exactly what Courtney would say next. She looked up at the flight attendant, whose eyes were locked on hers, examining her interactions with Chris and looking for clues.
"Great, let me know if there's anything I can do." She paused for a moment. "Are you two travelling together?"
There it was, and Rita almost laughed out loud. The first probe of the flight. Courtney was following the book to the letter.
"In fact, we are," Rita said with a smile before Chris could respond. Courtney was good, almost completely hiding her disappointment at the potential hook-up she had just lost.
But then, for some inexplicable reason, Chris - who had no ability to read what was going on but realized this was a pretty girl to talk to - added, "Yeah, we're homicide detectives and Rita and I - my name is Chris - have been partners for years."
"Oh!" Courtney said, giving a quick victory glance to Rita before re-focusing on Chris. "So you're headed to Newark for detective business?" She gave just a slight emphasis to the word 'business' and Rita sat back - Courtney believed she was back in the hunt.
Chris responded with, "Something like that," and Courtney perked up. Rita knew it was 'game-on'.
"Excellent! I hope you both enjoy the flight," Courtney said as she turned and left, but not before glaring at Rita for just a moment. Rita's woman-to-woman translator converted the flight attendant's statement to 'I hope that woman's window breaks and the rapid decompression sucks her out', and she laughed at her own thoughts.
Chris looked at Rita and said, "The flight attendant seems friendly."
"Oh, she will be." Rita said with a smile, holding her sarcasm in check as best as she could. Chris wanted to ask what she meant, but Rita had already opened her book and was reading. Figuring she was still frustrated from the whole plane-crash thing, he grabbed the Sharper Image magazine from the seat back and started flipping through the pages, looking at all the cool gadgets.
When it was time for lunch, here came Courtney again. Rita noticed right away that she had moved her red neckerchief to the side and the top button on her blouse had come undone. She must have caught it on something when moving through the cabin. Chris, still not fully aware of the little face-off taking place, ordered the club sandwich and chips. Courtney leaned over Chris slightly to take Rita's order, trying to increase her exposure, but Chris had turned to see what his partner was going to order.
"I'll just have a Big Mac, fries, and a chocolate shake," she replied, looking at Courtney with complete seriousness.
"Very good, I'll get these right up," Courtney said as she walked towards the next passengers. Chris gave her a questioning look and mouthed 'big mac'. Rita laughed and whispered, "You told the flight attendant we're detectives, so I'm doing a little detective work."
Chris still didn't pick up on it, but it didn't matter because at that moment, Courtney returned laughing, "That was pretty funny, Ms. Rita, but you got me. How about you give me a lunch order I can actually fulfill."
Rita smiled, impressed at Courtney's recall of names and hoping the subtle message - pay attention to your work and not my partner - had been delivered. She changed her order to match Chris.
Either Courtney did not get the message or she was very persistent. When she returned ten minutes later with their food, a second and third button on her blouse had somehow managed to separate. Rita just shook her head at this young woman's brazen behavior. If Chris didn't notice this time, she might just tell him. At this rate, Courtney would be arrested for indecent exposure before they landed. The flight attendant bent over a little further to deliver their trays, and Rita caught a glimpse of a black lace bra and a lot of skin.
Chris was looking at his food, still not seeing what she was doing, and for a moment, Rita actually felt sorry for Courtney. The poor thing was trying everything but strutting to a stripper pole to get his attention and he kept missing it. This was becoming humorous to watch. Rita wanted to take a short nap, but couldn't bear to miss a moment of the in-flight entertainment.
Courtney paid one last visit to Chris when he was dozing, just before they began their descent into Newark. Rita was still reading and caught her walking by from the corner of her eye. Without moving, she watched as the desperate flight attendant paused for a moment and then deftly placed something in his jacket pocket - probably a business card - before moving on. Rita just smiled, knowing they had another leg to travel - she was the winner of this little cat-fight and Chris wouldn't likely see that woman again.
As they got off the plane in Newark, Rita purposely waited a bit in order to be the last person out. When she walked past Courtney, she stopped, touched her arm, and whispered, "You have moxie, I'll give you that. You're absolutely gorgeous, and I have never seen anyone try as hard as you have to get Chris' attention."
The flight attendant returned the smile and said, "I still have one shot left. We'll see if he responds."
As seriously as she could, she said to Courtney, "Don't stay up too late waiting, sweetie. Tomorrow he's going to be married, and his fiancée frowns on pre-wedding trysts." Rita tapped Courtney's arm gently one last time, smiled, then turned and walked away, leaving the young flight attendant speechless, her eyes wide and mouth hanging open.
It was cold in Portland. Well, it wasn't cold for Portland at the end of March. Fifty-two degrees with broken sunshine and a light breeze was actually pretty nice, so the locals were outside without jackets and gloves, enjoying what appeared to truly be the start of spring. For Chris and Rita, however, the conditions were anything but spring-like. It was nearly thirty degrees cooler than Palm Beach's forecast high of eighty.
Rita complained about the cooler weather – for the first time - as they waited on the airport curb for their shuttle. "I might already be regretting this decision, Sam. It's pretty cold here."
Chris chuckled as he responded, "Cheer up, Rita. You won't have to worry about fifty-degree weather tomorrow. I checked before we left, and Wyoming is going to be another twenty degrees colder than this. I bet you can hardly wait."
She didn't respond verbally, but Chris got a pretty good idea of her feelings when her head and shoulders drooped and she sighed.
The shuttle arrived a few minutes later and they were on their way to the hotel. The Embassy Suites was the perfect place for them. It was reasonably priced, it was within shouting distance of the airport for tomorrow's early departure, and hotel management had given Palm Beach PD an open-ended reservation, along with a promise to be very discrete about the room's occupants should any questions be asked.
They checked in and went straight to their fourth-floor room. When they opened the door, they were presented with very nice, clean surroundings, two queen beds, a good-sized table and chairs, a large TV, and a standard bathroom. Chris gave his partner the choice of bed and when she picked the one by the window, he flopped down on the other bed, put his hands above his head, and closed his eyes with a sigh, "I need to rest my eyes for just ten or fifteen minutes."
He got no argument from Rita, who opened the curtains long enough to look at the water, then closed them, took her shoes off, and actually crawled under the covers of her bed. "Wake me when you're ready to eat," she said with a yawn. "I need a cat-nap as well."
When Rita opened her eyes, their room was almost completely dark and the only noise she heard was Chris' regular breathing coming from the adjacent bed. She turned to look at the window and could see that the sun had set, though there was still ambient light. When she glanced at the digital clock on the table between the beds, it read 7:16pm - she and Chris had slept nearly three hours. Her stomach rumbled as she slowly sat up and stretched her arms.
"Chris," she said as she exhaled heavily, still a bit groggy, "we need to get up." Chris didn't move, so she dragged herself out of bed and turned on a lamp, went and used the bathroom, then came back and gently shook her partner. "Christopher, wake up."
He stirred and opened his eyes. "Hey there, Sam." Looking around, he asked, "What time is it?"
"Time for dinner. We slept for three hours and it's going on seven-thirty. It's nearly dark outside."
Chris popped up, "I'm so sorry, Rita, I just collapsed - this bed is really comfortable. What would you like to eat?"
"Don't worry," Rita said with a smile. "I needed rest, too. They have a place downstairs that's open until ten, or we could have the shuttle run us someplace. I have a hankering for Italian, though I don't really feeling like doing a bunch of running around. I could eat a shoe if I had to."
"So you want some cobbler, hmmm? Get it?...shoe?...cobbler?" Chris laughed at his joke with a snort.
Rita shook her head, "Clearly your humor is better when you're tired, though that doesn't work out to much of a compliment. That was one of the worst jokes you've ever told."
"Well, I give me five stars for it." Chris got up and looked through the restaurant options in the folder on the table. "Hey, there's an Italian place called Espo's Trattoria that's close by, and it rates four-and-a-half forks out of five on this chart - open until nine and they do carry-out. How about we call in the order, then I can take the shuttle over and pick it up? You can sit and relax a bit."
Forty minutes later, they were sitting at their hotel room table eating their food which, despite its carry-out status, looked and tasted like it rated a full five forks. When they finished, the pair took a quick tour of the hotel, checking out the breakfast room, the main lobby, the pool, and fitness area before stepping outside for a few minutes to watch a couple of planes take off into the night.
Rita shivered and yawned, so they headed back indoors and up to their room. They took turns changing in the bathroom and when Rita came out, Chris was sitting on his bed with the covers turned down and the TV on. He patted the spot next to him and said, "Want to sit with me a bit before turning in?"
She gave no answer, but crawled up next to him and propped two pillows behind her back. They spent some time talking about the assignment and ironing out a few more details. They speculated on what Wyoming would look like - neither of them had ever been there - and what all they would do before really getting down to business on Monday.
"Oh, check this out - look what I found in my pocket when I was changing." He handed Rita a small picture of Courtney in a very skimpy white bikini. Rita looked at it for a moment - more than a little jealous of her perfect figure and that these model-types kept finding their way into Chris' world - then flipped it over, read the little note there, and snorted. Yet another woman with the hots for her partner.
Chris chuckled, "Pretty funny, huh? Flight attendants aren't as demure as they used to be."
On the back, Courtney had written, 'Chris, if you're available, so am I...and I forgot the bikini. Courtney Rugan'. Below that was the name of her hotel, the room number, and the room's phone number. Rita smiled to herself. Courtney was staying at the Doubletree hotel - in Newark. Ms. Rugan was probably suffering through her loss at the Doubletree's bar, checking the prospects there.
"No they're not - and fast girls aren't nice girls, Chris." She tried to sound motherly and facetious, but truthfully, she absolutely did not want her partner trolling around after the flight attendant and was thrilled they were nowhere close to Courtney. "As we speak, she's probably taking some older man back to her room that's been slobbering all over her at the bar."
Rita laughed at her own humor and yawned again. Chris smiled at her. "You know, Rita, I really expect my wife to be more of a night-owl than this. It's not even ten and you're already cashing out. We're going to be married tomorrow and that's something I hope will change." He put his arm around her in a show of mock romance, "You think you can work on that a bit...sweetie?"
Rita looked at him for a moment, then moved in close - as if to kiss him - before giving him an elbow to the ribs and responding, "Yeah, I'll get right on that...sweetie. You know, I do not like my husband collecting mostly-naked photos and phone numbers from strange beautiful women on airplanes. Look, our flight leaves at seven and we need to be up and at the airport at six, so married or no, it's sack time. You have everything Palm-Beach related out of your bags?" When Chris nodded, she said, "Good. Now we'll cross-check each other's stuff to make sure we didn't miss anything, then lights out - and get rid of that poor woman's photo!"
As they looked through each other's things, Chris said quietly, "Oh, I almost forgot." He walked to the closet and pulled two small boxes from his jacket pocket. He opened one and removed a beautiful wedding band made from white gold that he slipped on his ring finger. He went back to Rita, held his hand in front of her, and asked, "So, what do you think of that?"
"Wow, that's gorgeous, Chris! But what about me?"
Chris handed her the other box and she opened it, looked inside, and gasped. She removed a stunning two-carat diamond engagement ring and a diamond-crusted wedding band, both in matching white gold. She looked at Chris with saucer-sized eyes and whispered, "They're incredible!"
Chris went back to going through her bag, but replied, "Yeah. Do you recall saying you wanted a big diamond when you got married? Well, I did, too."
She stood there, trying to wait patiently, and when Chris zipped up her bag, she tapped his arm. "Hey! You are my husband! Aren't you going to put the ring on my finger?"
"What's wrong, Rita? Don't you know how?" When she glared at him, he laughed and said, "I'm just kidding. Give me your hand." As he gently pushed the ring on, she slapped his hand.
"Not that way, Chris! You're doing it backwards. Clearly, you don't know how."
He rolled his eyes. "That's right, because I'm the wedding-ring salesman who does this every day for a living." He turned the pair around and slid them on her finger. They were a perfect fit, and he thought she was even more beautiful than usual. She held her hand in front of her, looking at it in wonder. "Actually, the rings came from contraband seized by Narcotics in that husband-wife drug bust on the boat last year - remember that?" Rita nodded, barely registering his words and lost in thought as she stared at her hand. Chris continued, "We just had them resized slightly to fit our fingers - Mrs. Stone."
"You really outdid yourself, Mr. Stone. These are exquisite!"
Chris took her in his arms and slowly spun her around. "Nothing but the finest for my beautiful wife. Ok, Samantha, I'm ready for bed," he paused for a moment, "Shall we?"
"We shall..." she said with eyes glistening, "...in separate beds. Unlike your little girlfriend Courtney, I'm not a fast girl. So in spite of the hardware, we're still Rita and Chris, at least for tonight. Goodnight...honey," she finished with a snicker.
As the two of them slept, there was a quiet rustling in the coat closet over by the door. One of the mirrored sliders slowly moved on its track, silently gliding to the right. The figure of a man stepped out and into the room and walked silently past Chris' bed. In his sleep, Chris sensed the motion and opened his eyes. Whoever it was stopped at his partner's bed and pulled a gun from inside his jacket - Chris could see the glint reflected from the various city lights casting their glow into the room.
Chris tried to jump up and attack the man, but was unable to move. What was happening? He was firmly tied down! He tried to yell to Rita, but no sound came out. His mouth had been taped shut! This was worse than a nightmare! Somebody save her! The man turned to look at him in the shadows, then rotated back and leaned over, placing the barrel of the pistol to Rita's temple and pulling the trigger. The pistol's discharge shattered the night silence and Chris could see the silhouette of her body jerk as the bullet blasted through her skull.
The man straightened up and turned toward him. The next thing Chris felt was the warm barrel of the gun pressed against the left side of his head. The man whispered, "This is payback..." before switching on the nightstand light with his other hand. Chris' eyes took a couple seconds to adjust, but when they did, there was no mistaking the face...
"Castellana!" Chris yelled in a heavily muffled voice through the duct tape on his mouth. Castellana smiled, "Welcome to Hell, Lorenzo..." and pulled the trigger a second time...
...Chris' eyes opened in a flash, but Castellana was gone. He moved his right hand, then the arm, followed by his left. He was free! He quickly put his hands to his mouth - nothing. He jumped out of bed, suddenly chilled - his body was drenched in sweat. He turned on the table lamp - the same one the killer had just used - and looked at Rita, who was sleeping soundly in her bed with her back to him. His sudden motion and the light coming on caused her to stir and turn to him.
"You alright, Chris? What time is it?" she mumbled, her eyes squinting.
Chris looked at the clock. "It's 11:33. I'm sorry...bad cramp in my calf," he lied, "It'll be gone in a minute here." He fake-hobbled a bit, then leaned against the wall, pretending to stretch his left calf muscle. His beautiful, fully-alive partner smiled and rolled back over, falling asleep again.
He walked quietly to the bathroom, splashed some water on his face, and took a moment to collect his wits. "That was bad," he whispered to the mirror before returning to bed and crawling under the blankets. He turned towards Rita's bed and listened for her soft breathing, and that was how sleep eventually took him a second time.
It was the last time Hector Castellana would use Chris' dreams to kill his partner.