Designed Intent
Chapter 59
Friday Midmorning
"What else did you find on that Russian?" Deakins asked.
"Which one," Eames answered with a smirk.
"Both, each – what did you find out?"
"Trace found a hair in the tee shirt that wrapped one of the items in the duffle and the DNA shows it belongs to Krezemsky. So, that means he probably wrapped up the items."
"Did he steal them?" Deakins asked.
"Uh, we're not sure; possibly or, he's a middleman. We're still working out that bit."
"Another interesting thing trace found is capsaicin on the legs of the sweatpants," Eames offered. "It's the chemical compound that makes some foods hot, like chilies."
"It's an ingredient in taco chips," Bobby added.
"Taco chips?" Deakins pondered aloud. "Are you saying this Krezemsky guy is the shooter of those three murders from a few weeks ago?"
"Could be," Bobby answered. Eames nodded agreement.
"So, we may have solved five murders and an antiquities theft. Good work. But now go prove it and keep me informed."
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Friday Afternoon
"Gleason! Hi, Bobby told me the exciting news!" Eames said, coming from Sledge's desk. Her partner's lover stood next to his desk, looking around.
"Alex, hello. Yes, he said he told you." Gleason looked to the floor and went red. "I'm to meet him here. Is he around?"
"Yes, he's in with the Captain. Here, sit down," Alex pulled over the chair from the next desk and Gleason sat. "So, how are you feeling? Excited?"
"I'm fine thank you, much better. And, yes, excited. And nervous a bit. Oh, here he is." Gleason's face lit up as she saw Bobby cross from Deakins' office. She stood and Alex turned, Bobby's face radiated love for this woman.
"Hi, Honey," he said, touching her arm briefly.
"Well, here's our good professor," Deakins said, the joy apparent in his voice. "How are you doing? Getting excited?"
"I'm fine, Captain, much better. Thank you. And, yes, excited." Gleason repeated with a smile, looking then up at Bobby.
"What brings you to the bull pen?" Deakins asked, genuinely delighted to see Gleason.
"Uh, well, we, we have some things to do, so," Bobby looked at the floor, ran a hand over the top of his head and down his neck and two-stepped shyly, "are you ready?" he asked Gleason, glancing at her in that sidelong way. Deakins and Eames saw them both blush.
"Yes, yes, I'm ready whenever you are," she answered. She hadn't stopped smiling.
"Ok, then, let's, uh, let's go." Bobby stepped to the coat tree, retrieved his overcoat and laid it over his arm.
"Good to see you both," Gleason said in departing. Both Eames and Deakins nodded in response. Bobby smiled and put his hand in the small of Gleason's back and together they walked toward the elevators.
Eames and Deakins watched the pair depart and then looked at each other, smiling broadly, neither saying aloud what they thought – they're going to the courthouse.
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"Did you bring everything?" he asked her as he parked in the lot reserved for police vehicles.
"Yes, I brought it all – my passport, work visa, green card, pay stub, university photo id, driver's license, and your passport and birth certificate as well – you left them on the table this morning. And, I got the money order. Do you know they charge you an additional seven dollars for a money order? That's outrageous."
He smiled at her and said, "Thank you, Sweetheart. Ok, let's go." Bobby set the OPB sign in the window and they walked inside.
They waited in line at the Birth, Death and Wedding Certificate window and Bobby hoped he would not run into anyone he knew.
"Bobby Goren!" a voice boomed from behind him. Bobby groaned and shut his eyes. Gleason peeked from around him and saw a tall, imposing older man in a dark suit approaching.
Bobby turned and was relieved to see Judge Weisenstein striding toward the couple with his hand out. "Bobby! So, you're really going to do this, are you?"
Bobby took the other man's hand and they shook. "Yes, Judge. Uh, Judge, this is Gleason Wintermantle, my, my fiancé. Gleason, this is Judge Weisenstein, he'll be marrying us."
"Well, you're the one to make this man so happy, are you?" he said taking her hand and shaking it. "Bobby tells me you are a professor at Northwestern."
"I'm pleased to meet you, Judge. Yes, I teach in the ancient studies program there."
"So, you two getting the paperwork done, are you? Come on, no need for you to wait out here; let's go get this done in my office. Did you bring all the paperwork?" The trio turned and headed to the judge's chambers.
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Friday Evening
"Have you thought about what you'll wear, Love," Gleason said to him as they cleared the table after dinner. Gleason had found a lovely, lined white silk shell with a trace of beadwork along the neckline. The neckline sat just right and the beading made it lay perfectly on her bosom. Gleason considered getting a bra – her first – and fancy panties as well.
"I don't have to wear a kilt, do I?" he asked with a smile.
"Oh, I would love to see that! You know what a Scotsman wears 'neath his kilt now, do you?" she replied embracing him and then taking his goods through his jeans.
Bobby gasped, jerked and answered, "I've heard the rumors. What are you doing?" he said with a smile and pulled her close.
"I'm checking to see what I might find 'neath your kilt." She pulled his head to hers and kissed him deeply.
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Saturday Morning
"Are you going for a walk today?" Bobby asked, coming into the kitchen.
She turned from preparing his travel mug and said, "Yes. Can I do something for you whilst I'm out?"
Bobby took her in his arms and said, "Would you get me a new white shirt? With French cuffs?"
"Of course!" Gleason was excited to do this for him. It was the first time he asked her to do anything for him. And to buy him a shirt! What a wifely thing to do. She beamed.
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Saturday Midmorning
Estella arrived after Gleason had left. "Dis plate so clean! Mitter Bobby id a clean freak after hid party time." She no longer found empty whisky, scotch and beer bottles and she refused to think about the used condom in his handkerchief that she had found while Gleason was still in Evanston. Her Mitter Bobby was a good man, a man nonetheless, but a good man.
She went into the bedroom to get his laundry and saw that it was already done except for a few items in the basket in the closet, two of them Gleason's. "Oh! Mitter Bobby lady id home! Otay, dat a good ting. She id good for him. He need her here. He lub her toe much. I put on deh nice sheets for dem."
Gleason kept the apartment spotless and enjoyed the work. Bobby's place was barely larger than her tiny place in Evanston, so it was easy to maintain. Estella would have little to do while Gleason was home these few weeks.
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Saturday Afternoon
"Monday would be fine . . . Sure, we can be here at one. Just check in at the lobby and they'll give you a visitor's pass. Take the elevator to the eleventh floor and turn left and then left again. I'll watch for you . . . Ok, see you Monday at one. Bye." Bobby hung up and said to Eames, "That was Fr. Picard. He's coming here to talk with us about Brine."
"Hope he can tell us something," Eames replied.
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Sunday Morning
"We have to work only a half day today," Bobby said over his shoulder, sitting on the edge of the bed putting on his shoes. "Want to go see Mom this afternoon?"
Gleason stretched luxuriously, relishing in post coital bliss. "Certainly. Then we can come home and get back into bed."
Bobby finished slipping on his shoe and turned around, "Is my bride-to-be still horny?"
"Yes," she replied with a shy smile.
Gleason watched him glance at the clock, hesitate, and then reach for his top button. "Don't be ridiculous," she said, "you get on to work! I can wait for you."
"Are you sure?"
Gleason sat up with a smile. "Bobby! I'm not some hound. Go! I'll wait right here for you so we can have a quickie afore we see your mum," she joked. "Now go."
Bobby leaned over and kissed her. Gleason's kiss went deeper, her tongue slipping between his lips and she heard him moan slightly. "You be careful today," she said smiling at him.
Bobby stood and she saw the tent in the front of his trousers. "I love you," he said.
"Go," she replied with a smile.
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Sunday Afternoon
Gleason was dressed and ready to go when Bobby arrived home at about one.
"I thought we were going to have a quickie when I got home," Bobby said with mock disappointment.
"Well, things kind of took care of themselves," she said reddening.
"Sweetheart did you . . . ?" he asked bending to look into her face, somewhat surprised.
"Oh, come on, you do it; we both do it on the phone," she replied, stepping past him.
"Yeah, well . . . you know, it's kind of sexy knowing that you do that," he took her in his arms and kissed her lightly.
"Come on; let's go see your mum. Then maybe we can get some lunch?"
"Let's get some lunch and then go see Mom."
They stopped at a little place on the way and an hour later, arrived at Carmel Ridge. Mrs. Goren was dozing in her chair when they walked in.
"Mom?" Bobby said softly, touching his mother lightly on the shoulder. She didn't rouse. "Mom?" he said again and crouched in front of her.
A rush of fear ran through him and he glanced up at Gleason. She saw his fear and stepped to his side. "Mrs. Goren, we're here to see you. Mrs. Goren? Bobby is here." Gleason stroked the old woman's arm as she spoke and Frances slowly opened her eyes and then looked straight at Bobby; it seemed she didn't know who he was.
"Mom, how do you feel?" She looked ashen and thin. Frances looked from Bobby to Gleason and shifted in her seat. "Mom, it's me Bobby."
Frances blinked a few times and then said, "Oh, yeah, Bobby; it's about time you got here. I fell asleep waiting for you. What took you so long? Is Frank with you?"
Bobby was relieved his mother came around, but her tone disturbed him. Her pallor and frailty worried him.
"No, Gleason is with me. How do you feel? Are you all right?"
"Oh, Gleason! Bobby get her a chair, she doesn't need to stand there. Be a gentleman for goodness sake. I raised you better than that. How are you, Dear?"
"Fine, Mrs. Goren, I 'm fine. How are you doing?"
"Me, well I guess I'm ok. There, Bobby, get the other chair for yourself. Yes, I guess I'm ok. The food here sucks, though."
Gleason stifled a guffaw at Frances's choice of words. Bobby sat finally and looked at his mother with wrinkled brow. He would speak with someone about his mother's health before leaving today; something wasn't right with her.
"Bobby, I've been meaning to talk with you about something."
"What's that, Mom?"
"We need some new books. Christian told me he wants some new books. Get us some new ones, ok? And buy them so we can keep them. Get that one with all the nursery rhymes in it; remember? That big thick one; that one we had when you and Frank were kids. Little kids need to learn the nursery rhymes. Frank knew them all by heart. You knew them, too. Christian would like that." She looked at her hands in her lap and grew quiet.
Bobby looked at his mother and worried, "Ok, Mom, I'll get you some new books. I'll get one with nursery rhymes, too."
It appeared as though Mrs. Goren had fallen asleep.
Bobby sat back in his chair, right ankle over his left knee, fingers tented in front of his lips. Gleason watched him and shared his worry.
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