Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of MC used the story below. I am only borrowing them – and will not be financially benefiting in anyway. No copy right infringement is intended.
Author Notes: Thanks to Mel for the Beta! Still setting the scene with this chapter – please stick with me, the action will be starting soon enough :)
Chapter 3
Rusty entered the apartment, closing the door behind him and dropping his keys on to the side table; he paused when he noticed Sharon's overnight bag by the couch.
"Mom?" He dropped his own bag to the floor and headed up the hall towards the bedrooms. "Mom, are you here?"
"We're in here," Sharon called from her room.
"We..." Rusty rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath as he followed the sound of her voice. The door was ajar, so he pushed it open to find Andy on his tiptoes trying to pull a large suitcase from the top shelf of the closet, whilst Sharon fussed over a pile of clothes on the bed.
"Hey," a frown creased the young man's brow; he pushed his hand through his hair – feeling slightly awkward about standing in Sharon's bedroom with Andy there too. He knew that Andy stayed over - and he knew what that meant - but he really didn't like to think about it.
"Hey," Sharon smiled. "You're home early."
"You too," he shoved his hands in his pockets, temporarily catching Sharon's eye before quickly looking at his shoes. "Are you guys taking a vacation?"
"Oh, I wish," Sharon responded, as she walked around the bed to stand next to him. "No, Rusty," she reached out and gave his arm a reassuring rub – seemingly misinterpreting his weird body language as 'disappointed' rather than 'uncomfortable'. "We wouldn't just go away - not without telling you first."
"Okay," he nodded towards the case in Andy's arms. "...So then what's with all the luggage?"
"Your mother's moving in with Lieutenant Provenza, kid." Andy entered the conversation, as he lowered the suitcase to the floor.
"You're what?" Rusty asked, wide eyed – his discomfort forgotten.
"Andy," Sharon chided her lieutenant. "Don't tease him."
"What?" Andy raised his hands in mock surrender. "Tell me I'm wrong."
"What Andy is referring to," Sharon returned her gaze to Rusty, "...is that Lieutenant Provenza and I are taking part in an undercover operation..."
"As a couple?" Rusty balked.
"A married one," Andy added.
"Oh my God, are you serious right now?" Rusty asked amusedly, his puzzled expression quickly morphing to resemble the gleeful one on Andy's face. "You and Lieutenant Provenza - pretending to be married?"
"Unfortunately, yes…." Sharon grimaced.
"Oh man..." Rusty laughed. "You guys are going to murder each other!"
"Well then," Sharon returned to the pile of clothes on the bed. "Hopefully we will catch the killer before I'm forced to become one," she smiled thinly – growing tired of all the amusement at her expense. "Although," she paused contemplatively, a pair of Monolo's in hand. "We do have to be prepared for the operation to run for a while..."
"Mom, I'll be fine,"
"You won't be able to visit me at the facility – and Andy is working the case too..." Sharon ignored Rusty's protestations. "Maybe I'll leave Andrea's number on the refrigerator just in case..."
"Mom!" Rusty raised his voice and Sharon halted her rambling. "First of all, if I need you - I can call you. Our phones have this miraculous invention called FaceTime."
"Ha-Ha." Sharon responded sarcastically.
"Second of all - what do you mean by facility?"
'Oh God,' Sharon winced; keenly aware that Rusty would now derive further enjoyment from her next statement. "The um… the undercover operation is taking place in a retirement community."
"A home?"
"No, no." Sharon quickly corrected him. "It's not a home..."
"Is there bingo?" Rusty joked.
"Every Monday night in the club house." Andy chipped in before Sharon had a chance to retaliate - and Rusty laughed in response.
"Well, I'm glad I'm such a source of entertainment for you both." Sharon had meant to sound angry, yet couldn't help but smile; even though the joke was at her expense, it was nice to see the men in her life bonding.
Rusty had been a little off since she and Andy had starting looking to move in together. Sharon understood that moving house would be hard for him; for the first time in the young man's life, he had started to lay down roots. This apartment was his home – it was their home – and at least in Rusty's eyes, Andy was threatening that new-found security. Sharon was happy to expolit any situation that could convince him otherwise...even if it was at her expense.
"Scrap booking?" Rusty continued.
"You got it," Andy added. "Wednesday night is scrabble..."
"I happen to like Scrabble," Sharon said.
"We rest our case," Rusty joked.
"Okay, that's enough," Sharon held up her hands to bring their mocking to an end; she had her limits. "May I remind you Andy Flynn, that you are actually three years older than me."
"Yeah, and I look good for it." A sideways smile slid across Andy's face.
"Oh – and are you saying that I don't?" Sharon asked, cocking her hip and raising an eyebrow.
"Oh God!" Rusty interrupted - expressing his disgust at their obvious flirting. "Can I leave now?"
"Of course," Sharon laughed at his reaction – thinking it served him right for poking fun at her. "But don't go too far, I'd like to see you before I leave."
"Yes, ma'am." Rusty murmured as he turned and left the room – closing the door behind him.
xXx
"Pleasurewood Pines," Provenza read out loud as he drove their rental through the retracting iron gates, that sealed the entrance to their new fake-home.
Sharon stretched as best she could in the tiny sports car they'd been given; the drive up had been a long one - Provenza had complained almost the entire way.
He was taking the 'retirement' element of the operation very personally; he seemed convinced that they were victims of ageism – and that Taylor wanted him gone. Despite Sharon reminding him that Taylor too was 'no spring chicken'- Provenza was adamant that he was taking the matter up with Human Resources as soon as the case had been solved.
Sharon had never been particularly sensitive about her age - why should she be? She was healthy and happy in both her career and personal life; she had lots of things to look forward to.
If she was honest with herself, it had stung a little to be considered for an operation in a retirement community – but in truth there wasn't anybody else that could do it. There were very few detectives in the LAPD of their calibre who fit the profile; which was something they should be proud of.
Lieutenant Provenance however, was struggling to appreciate the Captain's slant on things.
Sharon had kept her head in the case files for most of the journey – trying to retain as much information as possible about the character of the person whose life she was about to inhabit.
Pleasurewood Pines had a very exclusive waiting list of people selected by a board of members. The Moreau's, who had been on the list for the past three years, had submitted a very detailed application form to be accepted. Although the couple had never been physically seen by any of the inhabitants of the community – there was always the risk that details of their application had been circulated amongst their new neighbours.
The real Mr and Mrs Moreau were in fact currently on an all expenses paid vacation, courtesy of the LAPD.
"Ye Gods, look at this place!"
"Oh my..." Sharon slid her oversized sunglasses down her nose and took in her surroundings. It reminded her of a trip she took to Europe after college. A winding gravelled path stretched around a large lake; the waterside was dotted by spanish-style villa's – with the peaks of a golf course just visible in the distance. "It's beautiful."
"Do you know how much one of these places costs?" Provenza waved his arm in the direction of the villa's as he pulled the car into park by a large fountain, central to the entrance way. "I'd have to sell my organs to afford to live here."
"I'm not sure anyone would want them..." Sharon muttered under her breath as she checked her appearance in the sun-visor mirror; Provenza's incessant whining was really starting to get to her.
"I see you're in wife mode already," he retorted before something caught his eye. "Keep it up," he unbuckled his seatbelt. "Here comes our first test subject."
Sharon rubbed her lips together to ensure her newly applied lipstick was evenly spread, flipped up the sun visor and ran her fingers through her hair.
'Show time.'
She felt a fluttering of nerves as she stepped out of the Chevrolet Stingray (which was not an easy thing to do gracefully, whilst wearing high-heels), to greet the welcoming party.
"Mr and Mrs Moreau?" A tall, slender, well groomed man with sharp features strode confidently across the gravelled driveway towards them. A a short, podgy man with receding hairline and an armful of files scurried behind.
"That's right," Provenza painted on a smile and draped an arm awkwardly around Sharon – feeling her stiffen slightly in response. "Please, just call us Bob and Ellen.
"Welcome to the community." He shook Provenza's hand firmly. "I'm Kenneth, the General Manager here at Pleasurewood Pines."
"Why, thank you." Provenza held his smile - which was making his face ache. "We're very happy to be here."
"My my," Kenneth took Sharon's hand and bent at the waist to kiss it. "Enchanté, Ellen. May I say you don't look a day over 50."
"Thank you, Kenneth." Sharon narrowed her eyes and snatched her hand away quickly. "And this is?" She looked over the manager's shoulder to the portly man in the background.
"Oh, that's just Kenny – my assistant." Kenneth said dismissively. "He doesn't say much."
Kenny nodded in greeting – his spectacles sliding down his nose as he did.
"Kenneth and Kenny?" Provenza asked. "Doesn't that get confusing?"
"No, why would it?" Kenneth frowned. "As you can see, we're nothing alike."
Provenza looked confused, and was about to respond with a dose of sarcasm – when a nudge from Sharon made him school his features.
"So, which one of these gorgeous villa's is ours..." Sharon quickly changed the subject. "Our realtor showed us the photographs – I'm just so anxious to see it in person..."
"Of course," Kenneth gathered his thoughts – and with a click of his fingers – Kenny passed him a golden envelope.
"The keys to your palace," he placed the envelope in Sharon's hand and took a step backwards. "I trust you will find everything to your liking."
Sharon peered inside the open envelope to find two keys on garish pink and blue key chains. She stifled a cringe as she dug them out, presenting them to Provenza on her palm. "Oh honey look," Sharon beamed, knowing that Provenza would hate them every bit as much as she did. "They put our names on the key chains – isn't that just precious?"
"Why yes..." Provenza chuckled, in attempt to mask the horrified expression on his face.
"Your villa is number 23, top of the hill and to your left; you've got the best views of both the lake and the golf course. Will you be requiring assistance with your unpacking?"
"Oh, no thank you," Sharon answered quickly as she dropped the keys back into the envelope; they didn't need anybody snooping through their fake things. "We hired a moving firm to do the heavy lifting." She nodded her head towards the large truck they had arrived with – Lieutenant Cooper at it's helm.
"Well, that's just fine." Kenneth clasped his hands together. "I will bid you both adieu; if you need me, my contact details are in the envelope – my office is just in that building behind us."
With that, both Kenneth and Kenny turned and wondered back towards the building from whence they came. Sharon and Provenza watched them disappear before finally stepping apart; both visibly relaxed once their personal space had been restored.
"And there was me thinking that we'd be the oddest couple here..." Provenza said, suspiciously eyeing the building that the two men had entered.
Sharon smiled. "Come along on Bob," she turned to make her way back to the car. "There's still work to be done."
xXx
Sharon watched from the kitchen window as the truck made it's way back down the winding path to the exit; leaving the Captain and Lieutenant alone in their new home.
Andy and Julio would be starting their new roles as gardeners tomorrow morning, with the rest of the team manning a surveillance vehicle parked meters from the entrance; Buzz had already rigged up motion detecting security cameras around the villa.
Provenza was outside, having perched himself on the front porch in an attempt to entice people over. He'd already identified the lady at number 22 as a 'curtain twitcher' - and expected that she would be the first visitor after the truck left.
Sharon turned to face the open-plan living space, which was a similar in size to her own apartment – however the furniture was more lavish and colourful...much like her new wardrobe.
Ellen Moreau, it appeared, dressed far less conservatively than the LAPD captain. As Ellen had sited 'vintage Versace' and 'colour psychology' as two of her interests on the community application form - Sharon had been able to source very few items of clothing from her own collection.
Now, loud colours and elaborate patterns decorated both Sharon and her new living space – which she did think was in poor taste - considering the previous two tenants had been murder victims.
She shivered; the thought of two people recently losing their lives in her sitting room gave Sharon the heebie-jeebies. What she found strange, was that despite the exuberance of the Moreau's bulky furniture – the villa still felt so empty.
Sharon mentally shook herself; if she hadn't known the history of the villa – she wouldn't even be thinking about how it 'felt'.
"Oh, Ellen honey," Provenza calling from the front porch interrupted her thoughts.
"Yes, Bob?" She responded in a sing-song voice; she would never get used to Provenza calling her honey.
"We have company."
xXx
Roberta Swallow paced the floor of her villa, tugging her silk bath robe tightly around her slight frame. Backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards – her slippers making a slapping sound against the tiles as she walked.
For the third time that hour, she stopped by the window and drew back the curtain to look at them – the new people.
"They don't know," she narrowed her eyes as she spoke."How could they know?Geoffrey didn't know..."
Roberta moved away from the window and continued to pace; backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards – before stopping to look again.
"He's seen me," she closed the curatin quickly, as the man on the porch looked straight at her. "He's seen me," she repeated as she walked backwards from the window – until the backs of her legs connected with her glass coffee table.
"Geoffrey…"
She slowly reached into her robe pocket and pulled out an insulin pen – and with a shaking hand, she held it out in front of her.
"I'll do it," she spoke into the dimly lit room. "You can't stop me...I'll..."
Roberta never finished her sentence.
Her breath caught in her throat and her back arched – before she collapsed heavily to the floor...liquid crimson trickling between the terracotta tiles.
TBC…
Ooops...Slight mood change at the end there!
Thanks for reading :)