I don't own the characters and make no monetary profit from this story. I'd love to own Pete but I know that's an impossibility. His heart belongs to Edie and always will.
A Lifetime in Eight Days
Chapter 35: The Details in the Day
Pete wasn't sure what time it was but even without opening his eyes he could tell the sun was further along in its journey across the sky than it usually was when he and Edie got out of bed. The light against his closed lids was quite a bit brighter than normal and the temperature beneath the bed covers had risen in direct proportion. He would gladly toss the quilt to the side but for the quiet stillness of the woman lying next to him beneath the pretty blues and whites and yellows of the double wedding rings that Grandma Hart had so laboriously sewn together.
His eyes opened a crack and he peered into Edie's face. The side not buried in the pillow was flushed pink from contact with slim threads of afternoon sunlight slipping through the slats of the blinds. He wished she would wake up. Not because the heat of her body was uncomfortable or because the weight of her was restrictive. He just wanted to gaze into the confused barely-awake expression that she normally began the day with and that just happened to be his very favorite morning sight. On the other hand it had been after nine o'clock by the time they'd gotten home from the airport and managed to fall into bed. Pete couldn't recall when he had slept last. Not last night so it surely had to have been Sunday night. And the same went for Edie, her early morning nap notwithstanding. She needed the sleep. Mother wouldn't be too happy if she snored through her songs. He almost chuckled out loud as he remembered the time he actually told her she snored. Not real snores he'd finally assured her, just cute little snuffles, but she'd still been annoyed with him.
He gazed at her as she slumbered, his heart stopping then speeding up again when she shifted onto her back and unconsciously raised a hand to rub at her face and then let it fall to the pillow. When her breathing evened out again Pete carefully rolled onto his left side and slipped his arm around her waist, his chin barely touching her shoulder as he watched her sleep. Her blonde hair was sleep-tousled, her eyelashes were perfect arcs against her cheeks, her lips were just asking to be kissed. His eyes traced the outline of her breasts where the top two buttons of her blue cotton pajamas had come undone, lingered on the delicate curve of her neck and eventually settled on the barely visible pulse throbbing rhythmically in the hollow of her throat. He knew he should get up, should wake her up, should begin getting both of them ready for the day. But at that very moment he had neither the energy nor the will to move, but was simply content to be where he was with the woman he loved.
Pete eventually dozed off again only to be awakened by the strident ring of the telephone, his mind coming fully to attention at the sound of Pop's voice saying he was home. He reported that he had slept most of the way to Chicago but that the leg of the flight from Chicago to Des Moines hadn't been anything he'd write home about, the lady in the next seat having spilled her cup of hot coffee all over his pants and the first thirty pages of The Rancher's Revenge when they had hit some turbulence. The PI's attention wavered between his dad and Edie, watching as she drowsily pushed herself to one elbow and following her gaze as she peered around him at the alarm clock. Her eyes widened and she was suddenly fully awake, clambering over him and grabbing for her robe as her bare feet hit the floor. It was almost four-thirty in the afternoon and she was supposed to be at Mother's by six. Hearing the shower come on as his brief conversation with his dad ended, Pete slipped into the bathroom to wash the sleep from his eyes and then headed downstairs. By the time Edie meandered her way to the kitchen, face aglow from the hot water of the shower and her freshly washed hair almost dry after a furious scrubbing with a bath towel, a light meal of eggs scrambled with some leftover vegetables, toast and coffee had been set on the breakfast bar. They enjoyed their meal in companionable silence for the most part, exchanging a word or two here and there, hands brushing and lingering, she in a fluffy pink robe and he in his red and white striped boxers.
A short while later, after they'd eaten and their few dishes and utensils were washed and put away, the pretty blonde woman listened as the good looking dark-haired man read aloud from the headlines of the morning paper. She glanced over at him as she buttoned up her powder blue blouse, pausing as she slipped the final white mother of pearl button into its designated hole. Pete was settled against the iron headboard of the big queen-size bed, lounging atop the rumpled coral pink sheets and Grandma Hart's double wedding ring quilt. It made a fine picture and had her wishing she had Frank Gunn's snazzy new camera handy, but when Pop left so had the camera. So she just admired the view and saved it to memory. She stood there so long and so quietly that Pete finally looked up from the News Standard.
"Would you rather I bore you with the stock quotes?" He gave her one of those amazing Pete Gunn smiles that always turned her heart upside down and then let his gaze wander up and down her form, the knowing intimacy in his expression tugging at her insides and speeding her pulse. "That's a fetching outfit," the man teased.
His amused blue eyes smiled at her bare legs and feet and he watched as she grabbed her dark blue cotton slacks from the hanger and draped them over the bedroom chair before approaching the bed. Almost before he knew it she was sideways on his lap, her arms circling his neck, grinning at him like a little girl who had been given a favorite piece of candy. Pete tossed the newspaper aside and wrapped his arms around her waist, his head drawing back a little as he raised an eyebrow and continued his flirtatious perusal. He let his gaze stray to the nightstand to check the clock.
"Time's not standing still," he warned. "You know how Emmett gets when the gang's not all there on time to rehearse."
His words said one thing and his actions another as he brought her in closer, his grasp tightening, his right hand palming the back of her neck as he leaned in to kiss her at first lightly then with a familiar passion. Her hands went to his head, her fingers weaving into his hair as she held him there, remaining where they were when he finally drew back. He allowed his hand to trail along her leg, his gaze following along with his fingers as they skimmed the silky skin. Edie smoothed his hair and allowed one hand to linger along his chest as her right arm resettled around his shoulders.
"I suppose you're right," she admitted with a dramatic sigh. Her eyes studied his face as she became thoughtful and suddenly changed the course of the conversation. "It seems quiet without your dad here. I keep waiting to hear him clanging around in the kitchen or carrying on some deep philosophical discussion with the cat."
The PI grunted an acknowledgment then smiled. He reached and brought her face closer to his and gave her a soft kiss.
"I kinda like it."
He captured her lips in another kiss that had a little more behind it and this time it was the blonde who eventually brought an end to it. She gave his cheek a pat then slid from his lap. Pete watched as she finished dressing and combed her hair into some semblance of order that took only minutes but made it appear she'd been to a professional. As many times as he had watched her do that he could still never figure out how she made such a simple task out of it. They kept up a steady conversation the whole while, talking about some nonsensical things as well as what his plans might be for the evening and tonight while she was working. Edie made no comment but narrowed her eyes as Pete hemmed and hawed and said he wasn't really sure what he might be doing but he would think of something to keep himself busy. She finished her makeup and put on a pair of earrings and a necklace and a wide gold bracelet on her right wrist then headed back downstairs with the man at her heels. A lingering kiss later Edie was out the back door with the car keys in her hand and a freshly dry-cleaned dress over one arm. She turned to blow Pete another kiss as she stepped into the stairway leading down to the garage, her bright smile the last thing he saw as the door closed.
Eddie Webb shifted his cab into park and watched in the rear view mirror as Peter Gunn opened the door and stepped out onto the curb. Stretching his arm along the back of the seat, he leaned his big frame toward the passenger-side window as the PI bent down to look in at him, his eyes scrutinizing the face of the tall man in the dark gray suit.
"About how long do you think you'll be, Pete?" The burly cabbie glanced at the watch on his left wrist. "The shop'll be closing up in about thirty minutes. I can hang around here or run up to Nic's for supper if you think you're gonna be that long."
"Half an hour sounds fine, Eddie." Pete reached into his pants pocket and brought out a folded ten dollar bill which he handed through the open window. "Steak's on me. Smitty won't throw me out if you're a little late."
He gave a couple raps to the roof of cab 2052 with the palm of his hand then turned and stepped across the sidewalk and pulled open the door of Smith Brothers Gun Shop. The tinkle of the little bell above the door announced his presence and brought a lanky middle aged man with wire-rimmed glasses out of a back room. Kent 'Smitty' Smith, co-owner of the shop along with his brother Ronnie, greeted the private investigator in the manner of one who'd known the other for a good many years then led the way to the sales desk. He reached down and brought out a half dozen handguns and carefully placed them one by one on the counter.
"After you called I went through my inventory and picked out a few I thought you might be interested in." The shopkeeper took a couple boxes of ammunition down from a shelf behind him. "There are two that are manufactured exclusively for women and the others are basically the same as you carry. They're all thirty-eights just like you asked." Bushy eyebrows were raised quizzically as Smitty placed his elbows on the counter and leaned toward his friend. "You sure she'll be able to handle one of these, Pete? Might be easier to start her out with something lighter. I can pick up a nice Baby Browning for her through one of my sellers."
"It's not a question of her being able to handle it. She'll be fine." Pete examined each pistol individually, turning them over in his hands and inspecting the barrels and chambers. He gave the other man a thin smile. "It's more a case of getting her to agree to keep it and learn how to use it. And you and I both know a twenty-five is next to worthless when you need it the most."
Memories of Pauly Denner talking about watching Edie entering his apartment building with Lieutenant Jacoby, about how he planned to pay her a visit, continually intruded on Pete's thoughts and invaded his dreams.
I'll wait till you're dead and gone and things have blown over. Then I'll pay her a visit, offer my condolences...
Denner's words kept playing over and over in his mind, and though he knew the man was gone for good he was also aware there were plenty more like him out there. Most thugs had some modicum of decency when it came to women but there were always those who had no scruples. Those like Denner. Or like Max Grayco, who had gone to the extreme of sending a couple of his hired goons to Mother's to shoot Edie just to get his attention. Thinking back on it Pete decided he probably should have taken the initiative at that point and bought a gun for her and taught her how to use it. But what was past was past, this was the here and now, and he was going to make up for that lapse.
"I'm not looking for something she'd carry around in her purse," the PI continued, giving careful final consideration to the handguns his friend had provided. "She hardly ever has a purse with her anyway. I want her to have some type of protection for when she's home by herself."
Pete finally decided on a blue steel thirty-eight caliber revolver almost identical to the one he himself carried, reckoning that teaching Edie to use a comparable weapon would have its advantages, and also requested a trigger guard and a safety box. He pulled some cash from his right pants pocket and peeled away several large bills and handed them to Smitty and then began filling out a couple forms the shop owner slid across the counter at him. At five minutes past ten, after hearing all about the new firing range the Smith brothers had opened and being told to take Edie by any time to teach her how to shoot – "Call beforehand, Pete. If it's after hours or closed for one reason or another you can get the key from me or Ronnie" – Pete shook hands with the shopkeeper and followed him outside as he locked up.
Sitting slumped behind the steering wheel of his cab, his belly full of the quick supper of steak and fried potatoes he'd eaten at Nic's Diner, Eddie Webb directed his gaze at the big window bearing the logo of the Ashley Florist. Inside the shop Pete was talking to the owner, his right hand dipped casually in the deep pocket of his pants, the fingers of his left hand fiddling with some sort of pink flowers sitting in a crystal vase on the counter. Old Mr. Ashley nodded and said something and nodded again. He picked a pad from the counter and lifted a pencil from behind his right ear and began to write then turned and called toward the back room. Out came his youngest daughter, pretty tow-headed Betsy Ashley, who stepped to the counter and smiled brightly at the tall broad-shouldered PI.
The cabbie could see the girl give Pete the once-over even from where he sat at the curb. He heaved a sigh and shook his head. Surely she knew Peter Gunn had a girl. Everybody in town knew that, right? He himself knew all about Miss Edie Hart even though he had never met her. He'd seen her though, on any number of occasions when he'd picked up a fare in front of Mother's and she happened to be coming or going. Sometimes she was with Pete, on a few occasions she'd been waiting on the sidewalk with one of the other girls who worked there, the last several times she'd been by herself or in the company of the bartender fellow or a light-haired man. And she was pretty as could be. He knew his friend – yes, Pete was one fellow he considered a friend, they'd known each other a long time and had helped each other out in their own unique ways – was far from interested in catching the eye of some lovelorn woman looking for excitement. And Betsy Ashley should know better.
Eddie chuckled to himself as the PI politely ignored the young woman after giving her a brief smile, his attention on Rupert Ashley as the older man scribbled notes and made a side comment now and then to his daughter. The two men appeared to come to a mutual agreement about whatever discussion they were having and Pete nodded and began to move toward the door. As Eddie turned the key in the ignition he saw the man abruptly turn on his heel and motion to the flowers he'd been admiring on the counter. Then he dug in his pocket for some paper bills and separated a few and handed them to the man, waving off the change due him. He arrived back at the cab with the crystal vase and the cabbie saw that the flowers it contained were not just the pink he'd initially noticed but white and powder blue and light yellow too. Eddie didn't know what they were called, he couldn't tell a rose from a daisy, but he decided they sure were nice and had a feeling the PI's pretty blonde girlfriend would think so too. He glanced in the rear view mirror as Pete pulled the car door shut.
"Mother's?" he asked, a knowing smile curling his lips as he watched the other man nod and settle himself tiredly against the seat. His shifted gears with a beefy right hand and pulled the cab away from the curb, making a quick u-turn to point himself in the right direction. A few minutes later he pulled to the River Street corner outside the club and shifted into park and checked the meter as he waited for his friend to collect himself and exit the cab. When the PI made no move to do so Eddie glanced over his shoulder at him then followed his gaze to a black hardtop sitting parked across the street. He recognized it as an unmarked police cruiser. After a moment or two of consideration his passenger told him that on second thought he'd just head home.
Lieutenant Jacoby removed his hat, slowly scanning Mother's with what Pete commonly referred to as his beady little eyes until his gaze found Edie Hart at the far end of the bar. A soft drink bottle was on the counter next to her elbow and she was chatting with one of the waitresses, a nice looking dark haired girl named Wendy, while Barney pretended not to listen in on their conversation. With a final glance around the smoke-filled room the cop sauntered casually over to the corner where the two women were occupying themselves during a lull in the night's activity.
"Mind if I sit here?"
The blonde glanced up at him and after a moment's hesitation gave what appeared to be a somewhat tentative nod. The waitress straightened up from her relaxed position on the other side of the bar, giving him a polite smile and asking if she could get him anything.
The Lieutenant requested a cup of coffee with two sugars, feeling a sudden craving for something sweet, then placed his hat on the bar and settled himself on the tall stool next to Edie. He leaned his forearms on the counter and clasped his hands and watched as the other girl set his coffee in front of him.
"How's Pete doing?" Jacoby asked, opening the conversation with a neutral subject. He could feel Edie's curious gaze on his face as he took a sip of hot coffee and grimaced at the cloying sweetness mixed with the bitterness of the grounds.
"He seems to be coming along fine," she answered, volunteering the information that the PI had a follow-up appointment with Dr. Joe Carson the next afternoon. "Hopefully he'll give him his medical release."
"Pete will be glad." Jacoby tried to keep his tone from sounding too stilted.
"He will. He's getting restless." The woman sounded like she was doing the same.
"He's not real good at sitting still." He snuck a quick glance at the stage as the musicians switched to a new song with a slower beat. It was something he didn't remember hearing before.
"At least not when he's told to," Edie agreed, a smile coloring her voice.
The policeman took another long drink from his cup then turned his face toward her. He gave her a really good look and decided she appeared tired. And she undoubtedly was. It had been a long three weeks since the night Pete had gone missing, an unsettling couple of weeks since they'd been fortunate enough to find him back. The seven or eight weeks prior to that hadn't been a bed of roses for her either. Somewhere back when this had all started, maybe a day or two before they'd rescued Pete, he had told Edie that he wished he'd been a better friend when she and Pete had been apart. And again somewhere along the line, only days later, he had somehow forgotten that and had acted toward her in a manner he'd instantly regretted, had uttered a very poor choice of words that had racked him with guilt ever since. Surely he was more of a friend than that to both her and Pete. Wasn't he?
"Look, Edie..." He fiddled with the handle of the coffee cup, his brown gaze resting on it for a moment before he looked back at the woman. "I know words don't come anywhere close to making up for the things I said to you the other day but I want you to know I'm very sorry for everything I did say. I didn't mean any of it, you need to know that. I was just-" He gave a helpless shrug. "I was scared. Same as you. I've been friends with Pete for a long time, ten or eleven years now. That's a lifetime in my line of work." A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. "If I said I was just as afraid of losing him as you were I would be putting our relationship with him on the same level and I know very well that's not the case. But please believe when I say I was very much afraid and I let my emotions get the better of me."
She was quiet for so long that he began to wonder if she was going to say anything, her eyes searching his face in a manner that made him want to squirm. He had seen her give Pete that same look on a couple occasions and had found it vastly amusing. Never again. The PI would calmly attempt to out-stare her but he himself didn't have that gumption. He could physically feel beads of sweat popping out on his forehead and wished he still had his hat on because he was certain the blonde could sense his discomfort. His fingers tightened on the handle of his coffee cup and he was about to raise it to his lips, solely to break the spell her gaze seemed to have trapped him in, but Barney was suddenly there topping off the coffee with some fresh brew.
"Everything okay, Edie?"
The bartender didn't appear to be looking anywhere in particular and neither did Mother, whose tall rangy frame the policeman could sense in his peripheral vision. But he had a feeling they were both keeping an eye on this end of the bar. He obviously wasn't out of the woods as far as the denizens of Mother's were concerned and he guessed he couldn't blame them and had a feeling it would be that way for a while.
Edie's blue-eyed glance landed on her friend as she gave him a reassuring nod then she shifted her gaze back to the policeman. Jacoby decided the soft curve of her lips could be taken for a smile if he squinted hard enough and held his tongue just right and tilted his head to the left.
"Pete means a lot to both of us," the woman finally observed, breaking the lengthy silence.
"Yes he does." Jacoby felt himself relax at the soft tone of her voice, but just a smidgen.
"I know I said several things to you that weren't very nice either," she admitted.
"I don't remember any of those things," the cop quietly denied.
"Maybe I just thought them," the blonde mused, lifting her Coke and taking a long sip through the red and white striped straw as she eyed the Lieutenant's impassive face.
He decided to refrain from comment to keep from digging himself into another hole. The atmosphere had lightened somewhat and he was glad for that, the almost hidden hint of amusement in Edie Hart's eyes causing him to breathe a little bit easier. His relationship with her had always been an uneasy one at best so he figured if they could just get back to that prior sense of discomfiture then things between himself and this woman of Pete's would sort themselves out.
A quirky beat from the conga drums had Edie glancing over the crowd toward the stage and pushing her empty pop bottle in Barney's direction. Jacoby slid from his stool as the girl singer stood, watching as she slipped her feet into the black high-heeled sandals she had discarded during her break. Then she gave him a nod and a smile, not the big bright smile she reserved for a certain private investigator nor the sunny one she offered most everyone else, but something hesitant and on the somber side. But a smile nevertheless. He picked up his hat and settled it atop his head, adjusting the brim until the fit felt just right, then stood and watched for a few minutes as the musicians played and the blonde sang and then he left the building as silently as he'd entered.
Edie entered the apartment and shut the door behind her as quietly as she could, the soft click of the deadbolt and the rasp of the chain sliding into place the only sounds worth speaking of. The living room was dark save for the lamp beside the couch and that was where she found Pete, sprawled along its length in his pajamas and robe, the orange cat curled up on his legs and a book face down on his chest. The Secret of the Caves. The Hardy Boys? Where in the world did he get that? She smiled indulgently and removed the book from his lax grasp and laid it on the coffee table. Her eyes widened at the sight of the pretty crystal vase and the big bouquet of fresh carnations that had been placed in the center of the low table. A small pale blue sheet of paper, folded in half, was placed among the uppermost blooms and she lifted it out and opened it and read the scrawled words. And she smiled.