The Tool Party- Chapter Six

"Ohhhh...damn, that hurts!"

Chet groaned as he placed a palm across his tender cheek. He lay there for a bit, waiting for the stars that swam around his head to relocate. Curled on the bathroom floor, Chet's other hand delivered a death-grip hold to the towel that had joined the bar in its crash to the floor. His face hurt terribly, but to keep himself from crying out or just plain crying, the towel received the brunt of Chet's misery. The room spun and images of the bathroom's cabinets and fixtures swirled in front of his eyes and, not being able to focus just yet, Chet simply closed them and decided to wait for...well, for however long it took for things to settle. His stomach gave a small lurch and Chet swallowed hard. Barfing was definitely not on his agenda today. The cool tile floor felt good and Chet gingerly laid his cheek against it and closed his eyes.

After a few minutes, he opened his eyes again and looked around. The room had stopped spinning for the time being and the urge to toss his cookies had abated. Craning his neck to the side, he felt around on the floor and when his hand reached the bottom of the door, Chet reached his fingers under it and pulled, hoping it would open to the hall and he could call for help. No such luck, he had closed and locked it behind him.

"Guess I have to get up, then," he muttered, "this oughta' be fun."

~E!~

Meanwhile, Hal went to the kitchen to find Higbee. The chef was standing with his back to Hal, and was busily chopping and dicing assorted veggies.

"Higbee!" Hal called as he stepped inside the enormous kitchen. "What's for dinner?"

James Higbee was the sort of chef who took his work quite seriously and was not to be rushed in any way. Cooking was more than just preparing a meal; it was a work of art, and Higbee took great pride in what he created. One simply did not enter his domain and demand to know "what's for dinner!"

Higbee turned slowly and raised an eyebrow at Halligan. "Halligan, you of all people should know better than to request food in that manner," he sniffed. Turning back to his work, Higbee cut the remainder of the vegetables and tossed them all in their respective bowls.

"All right then, Higbee," Hal said, in a very formal voice, "what, pray-tell, are you preparing for our repast, kind sir?"

"Oh shush, you don't have to be so...butler-esque!" Higbee snorted with a laugh at Hal. "I happen to be preparing 'Fillet of Sole en Papillote' which should, if I'm doing this correctly, knock your socks off. I got this recipe from my cousin, Aerial. I imagine you've heard of her?"

Hal's jaw dropped. "Aerial? You don't mean Aerial Hurst, do you? That lady-chef from on TV?"

"Indeed I do, Mr. Bumgood. Aerial was kind enough to share a few recipes with me at the last family reunion. This one happens to be filets of Sole with vegetables steamed with dill in their own paper packets in the oven. The elder Mr. Kelly doesn't like fancy dinners when he's home unless he's entertaining so I thought I'd try this one out on your firemen friends."

"Well, if they're not impressed, I certainly am- you never told me you have a famous relative."

"It comes in handy when I want to impress guests and certain nosy butlers," Higbee responded. "How many are out there? I suppose they'll all be staying for dinner."

"Six…no, wait…seven…I think. Just a minute, I'll go check." Hal wandered to the enormous bow-window that overlooked the stone patio and with a pointed finger, counted heads. "Well, I see the five gentlemen who were invited by Mr. Kelly, and since we're officially off the clock, I'll add myself and Pulaski…hmm, I don't see Mr. Kelly, though. I wonder where he went."

"Well, I suggest you find out because for these lovely packets to be enjoyed properly, they must be eaten when steaming hot and they don't take long to bake. Tell the gents to move to the gazebo by the fountain and they'll be served there."

"Sounds good, Higbee, I'll tell them." Hal walked towards the pool, still scanning the area for Chet and becoming slightly concerned when he couldn't spot his wayward temporary employer. He approached the others who were by now, all basking in the sun. He wasn't certain, but it sounded a bit like Stoker was snoring softly. Hal cleared his throat. "Excuse me, gents, dinner will be ready in just a few minutes and Higbee would like us to move to the gazebo by the fountain to eat there."

"Wow, sounds fancy," Johnny considered, "what's he makin' for us?"

"Fillet of Sole en Papillote, John. It's marvelous."

Johnny nodded agreeably, "Oh, sure, yeah, that Fillet of Sole on Papill-ote is good stuff. Sounds great."

Roy nudged him, "You don't have the slightest idea what that is, do you?"

John shrugged and smiled, "Well, it sounds really good."

Cap slapped his hands on his thighs and stood up. "Guys, lets head on over to the gazebo. Marco, wake up Stoker, will ya'?"

Marco grinned, "Sure, Cap." He stepped lightly over to Mike and shoved him gently. "Mike…hey, Mike! C'mon, man, wake up, time for dinner!"

With a snort, Stoker woke up and blinked away the sun's rays in his eyes that had earlier lulled him to sleep.

"Huh? Oh…dinner? Hot dog; I'm starved!"

"Not hotdogs, Mike, some kind of fillet of paper-oats or something. Hal says it's really good," Johnny assured him.

Mike blinked at John, unsure if what he heard was what he was supposed to hear, then pried himself out of the chair and stood up. He looked around, "Hey, where's Chet? Isn't he back from the bathroom yet? Geez…"

John and Roy exchanged glances. "Huh, guess I kinda'...forgot about him for a while," Johnny added with a smile as he lifted himself from the lounge . Then he looked uncomfortably at Cap. "'Spose we ought to go find him? I mean, bothering a guy when he's in the bathroom seems a little...weird to me, is all."

Cap shrugged, "I don't know, fellas, but...it has been a long time."

"Uh, well, maybe we should go take a look in the house," Roy blushed a little, "If all he needed to do was use the bathroom, I, ah, I guess he should have been done by now."

Cap nodded and breathed in, "Yeah, okay, just go find him, you two. Tell him dinner's ready."

John wrapped a towel around his midsection and Roy donned his t-shirt as they headed for the large glass doors leading to the kitchen. As they entered, Higbee stood at the enormous maple butcher-block, his back to John and Roy. He was busily preparing a fruit compote to go along with the steamed fish packets.

"Hey, uh, excuse us, Mr. Higbee," John inquired, "do you happen to uh, know which way Chet, er, Mr. Kelly went? I think he was heading to the bathroom a while ago."

The chopping sound stopped abruptly and a silent and annoyed Higbee indicated with a raised hand that the "facilities" were through the double doors to the left. He snatched the paring knife up from the counter again and began slicing the fresh pineapple. As the two paramedics quietly left the kitchen, Higbee rolled his eyes and muttered, "Honestly, I'm the chef, not the babysitter. I've got a dinner to prepare and I haven't the slightest care if one of those men needed to relieve themselves..."

"Oo-kay, he wasn't the friendliest guy in the world," Gage noted as they found themselves in the great hall. Then they looked around and were mystified.

"Geez, this place is huge," Roy said in a near-whisper. "Where do you suppose the bathroom even is?"

"Beats me," Johnny replied, "let's try up here."

They ascended the enormous curved marble staircase and when they got to the top, John peered over the edge and laughed a little.

"What's so funny?" Roy asked.

"Eh, nothin' much. I was just remembering something. When I was a kid, my brother and I would stand in the balcony of my aunt's a-frame and look out over the living room. When our sister or any female cousins walked under us, we'd toss rubber spiders into their hair." He began to laugh louder at the memory. "'Course, this balcony's quite a bit fancier than my aunt's, but still..."

Roy stifled a snicker and rolled his eyes, "C'mon, Junior."

They checked four rooms before finding one locked, and decided that one must be the bathroom.

"You knockin'" Johnny inquired, "or am I?"

Roy pushed ahead of John, then knocked lightly on the door. "Say, uh, Chet? You in there?"

Chet had made it to all fours but hadn't yet accomplished making his way to the door. He lifted his head and stared for a moment at the door. Roy was out there? That was good.

"Uh, yeah, I'm in here," he said. "Uh, I kind of need a little help here...and I can't open the door."

DeSoto glanced at his partner. "What do we do? Break in the door?"

Johnny tried the knob again, unnecessarily. "Yeah, guess we do. I sure don't have anything to jimmy the lock with hidden in my swim trunks."

"Okay, Chet, stand back," Roy announced.

Chet sat back on his heels and dizzily held on to the side of the tub. He pulled the shower curtain around himself and closed his eyes. "Okay, Roy...have at it."

Chet groaned loudly as the first kick loosened the door and the second one bashed it in and sent it flying back against the wall.

Roy walked in and knelt by Chet. "Looks like you really hit your cheek hard here, Chet. Did you fall?"

Chet nodded. "Yeah, slipped on some water on the floor."

Johnny inspected the splintered door for a moment then looked in on Chet as well. "Wow, what's the other guy look like?" he snickered as he assisted Chet to a better sitting position.

Chet grimaced. "Oh goody, Chicken-legs to the rescue."