Dead Again

Prompt: Hamish Gold gives the mysterious woman a name and someone comes in who might be able to help. (Rated T)

It had been several days since the ad was placed and Hamish Gold was busy fending off crude calls and no leads as to who his pretty and quiet client was. So far his plan was backfiring, and all the callers (all men too) wanted nothing more than to take her off his hands.

The last scumbag wanted to know if she was good at giving head when Hamish slammed the phone receiver down.

"Sodding pig," he mumbled, ripping the paper from his notepad. "Just because she can't speak they think this is some escort service! What in the world is this world coming to?"

He glanced up to see her standing in the doorway, her fingers fidgeting nervously. She was quite timid and she had a right to be with the number of perverts calling in. At least he knew which ones were false since he wrote she was found wearing a single piece of jewelry. If someone knew her, then they would know that the jewelry was a ring with a Celtic knot and tiny emerald embedded in the setting.

Thank God for small miracles, he thought.

She was certainly looking better than the moment he met her. The color was returning to her pale features and her hair had a lovely auburn shine to it. Hamish also bought her some decent clothes so she wouldn't have to continue wearing the nun's prison garb. That earned him a chuckle when he described what she wore. At least she had sense of humor.

Now, she seemed perturbed and he had no choice but to tell her straight. "I'm sorry. He sounded sincere at first until—well, I won't give you the details. Don't worry. Someone with information will call," he promised her.

She sighed, a deflated sound of air filling the room. Her past hope was fading with each and every failed call. Hamish wished he had better news to give her—anything to see that beautiful smile again.

Whoa, what? Where the Hell did that come from? She's a client and needs all the help I can give her. The last thing she needs is someone else with designs on her person.

Shaking his head to get rid of those thoughts, Hamish set his pen and notepad down. Twirling his chair around, he interlaced his fingers and drummed them against his lips. "I don't want to take you to County. I feel the answer is right there and I'm missing it somehow. You hungry?"

She nodded.

"Great," he said. "I'll order a pizza. Um, I don't know which toppings you like so I'll order everything and we'll find out."

She nodded again. Once the order was placed, Hamish watched her as she sat on his couch as she stared out at nothing in particular. Then an idea occurred to him that was so brilliant he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it beforehand.

"I was thinking," he told her. "You need a name. I know your real name is preferred but if you can humor me in the meantime. I can't keep calling you, 'Hey you' or 'miss' or 'madam' which is weird I know. So how about it? Can I name you? I swear it'll be good and not some stupid one too."

She giggled, her blue eyes twinkling.

"I'll take that as a yes," Hamish declared. "Now… what to call you? Louise? No. Susie? Nah, you don't look like one. Mary doesn't suit you. Uh, I know! How about Emma?"

She scrunched her nose at the name and even he had to admit it didn't sound right either. "Okay, not Emma. Not a Jessica. But what?" As Hamish searched his apartment for inspiration, he happened to look back at her as the sun played with her hair and her eyes glowed in that lovely shade of hers, making them stand out with their unnatural beauty.

Beauty…

"Belle," he breathed. "I'll call you Belle." The name meant beauty and he did love the fairy tale as a boy. And it was fitting for her.

Belle seemed to like the name as well as she beamed at him. Satisfied, he gave a nod to himself. "Then it's settled. Okay, Belle, once that pizza comes, then we'll know one other thing about you—how you like your pizza." He laughed as there was a knock at the door. "That was fast," he muttered.

Going to the door, he opened it and instead of a delivery boy… there was a woman. She was older with white frosted hair and streaks of red that lingered behind from her natural color. She wore a pea green pantsuit, her hair twisted in a bun, and held Hamish's gaze with warm and curious green eyes.

"Mr. Gold? Mr. Hamish Gold?" she asked.

"Yes," he said carefully. "Can I help you?"

A bubblish chuckle erupted from her. "Actually, it should be—how can I help you? I saw your ad in the paper and wanted to come by and offer my services. You see… I'm a hypnotist and I believe I can help your client here."

"A hypnotist?" Hamish repeated. "Look, sorry lady, but we're not in need of that service. Thank you for dropping by—"

For an old woman, she was quick as she blocked the door from closing. "Mr. Gold, I insist you let me in. At least give me the chance. Unless you already have a lead about her identity?"

He felt a slight tug and turned to see Belle standing beside him. Her head bobbed as if to say she wanted that woman to help. He didn't like it but if it could help… what's the harm? Reluctantly, he let the woman in. "Fine. But no funny business. I do have serious leads to follow."

It was a bluff, not that she needed to know, but Belle gave him a look that clearly read "stop it."

The woman did a sweep over the apartment before settling her focus on Belle. Giving her a friendly smile, she held her hand out. "My name is Diane Madsen."