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 it always will.
Many thanks to Melchy for allowing me to bounce ideas off her and for answering my questions and especially for giving me her advice, even when she didn't know she was doing it!
A Lifetime in Eight Days
Chapter 36: Progress and Presents
Dropping his pen to the low table that he'd pulled close to his knees, Lieutenant Jacoby leaned back and stretched cramped muscles then laced his fingers together and cracked his knuckles. He grimaced at the sound and glanced furtively around, hoping no one had noticed, but none of the other half dozen souls occupying the third floor waiting room of St. Francis Hospital paid him any mind. A weary sigh escaped his lips and he let his gaze wander, deciding he'd spent more time in this waiting room over the past several weeks than he cared to think about. His gaze fell to the report he was working on and his blunt fingers tapped a haphazard rhythm on the arm of his chair. He undoubtedly should have gone back to the precinct to write out his notes but this corner with the window behind him and a potted tree next to him gave him some quiet privacy he wouldn't be able to find in his office at this time of day.
The metallic whoosh of the elevator doors gliding open brought the policeman's eyes up again and he watched a small stream of people disembark and head in various directions. Deciding he really needed to be on that elevator one of the next few times it headed back down to the lobby he grabbed his pen to fill in the remaining blank spots in his report, so intent on completing his task that he almost missed seeing the final two occupants step out and stroll toward the nurses station. His dark gaze followed the couple and he idly wondered at the nondescript bag the woman carried and the tissue-wrapped bundle the man seemed to hold out of sight behind his back. Jacoby gave himself a mental shake and began to gather his things together. Pen in his right breast pocket, paperwork folded neatly down the middle and shoved into the inside pocket of his brown suit, he lifted his hat from the chair beside him and went to stand next to the now closed elevator doors. He needed to see Pete, had to mention something he'd been remiss to bring up Monday evening – he still needed a statement from the PI so the case could be closed as far as the police investigation was concerned.
Bennie Marconi had been transferred to the State Prison that very morning though there were several court proceedings still pending against him on charges unrelated to the Peter Gunn case. As Jacoby had previously informed the detective, Marconi would be spending a long stretch behind bars. Joe DeVito would go to trial for making false statements, concealing evidence and being an accessory after the fact in the murder of Eleanora White six years ago unless he and his attorney, Egan Leopold, accepted a plea deal from the DA's office, which the District Attorney was pushing. DeVito also faced numerous charges relating to the Gunn case. Leopold himself was facing time in jail, a hefty fine and possible disbarment proceedings for harassment and tampering. But those were all responsibilities of the court system. Official closure of the police investigation was all Jacoby was concerned about. That rested with having on file an official statement bearing Peter Gunn's signature.
The Lieutenant absently straightened his necktie, stuck his right hand into the pocket of his loose-fitting suit jacket and leaned back against the cream colored wall and waited, his patient gaze unobtrusively following Peter Gunn and Edie Hart up the hallway. He watched as they stopped at the nurses station, saw Mrs. Henry finally lift her head after making a lengthy notation on some paperwork, gave a rueful smile and an amused wag of his head as the bundle the PI carried was magically transformed into a large bouquet of pink, white and yellow roses. Jacoby absently tapped the hat he held in his left hand against his pants leg, his smile lingering as he watched his friend touch the hand of the blonde where she held the bag, reaching in as she opened it and producing a big box of what looked to be Whitman's Chocolates. Wilma Henry's smile was bright and wide as she shook her head at the PI and then the little redheaded Betty Miles was there too, her green eyes widening under arched brows as she handed the older nurse a vase from the cabinet and watched as the flowers filled it. It took no time at all for the lid to fly off the box of candy. Jacoby chuckled and lifted his gaze to find Pete staring at him from where he leaned against the counter. The PI straightened and made a comment to the women that brought light laughter then turned and walked in the policeman's direction.
Mr. Johnson's chart was all wrong, the times backwards and the medication doses just about unreadable, the scrawl of that new intern looking no better than the scratches of a chicken. Must be they'd started teaching that nowadays in medical school, Mrs. Henry thought in disgust. It was the young ones that were so bad at it. How were her nurses expected to get anything done right if they couldn't read what they were supposed to be doing? She finally gave up and slid the chart to one side, determined to catch the fellow when he came past on his next round, and picked what she knew to be something with nuts and caramel from the candy box. The morning had been a busy one, beginning in the still dark hours when three wounded suspects had been transported to the hospital following a botched robbery attempt at the First Mercantile Bank. She'd heard one of the men died shortly after the ambulance crew brought him in, the other two had undergone surgery and been brought upstairs. That quiet Lieutenant Jacoby had been wandering the halls ever since, talking to the suspects when their conditions allowed while at the same time keeping watch over the officers who were keeping watch over the suspects. He hadn't passed by the desk in a while but she'd had an inkling he was lurking somewhere nearby, proving herself correct when their handsome visitor excused himself to go say a word to the policeman who was guarding the elevator. She allowed her eyes to follow him down the hall, thinking to herself that he really did look nice in that charcoal gray suit and crisp white shirt.
Snitching yet another chocolate, the ever-so-slightly plump Mrs. Henry got herself situated on her chair and exchanged a smile with Betty Miles, then turned her gaze to the other pretty young nurse who had stopped by to clock out before heading home for the day. Lauren Taylor, who had deep auburn hair and lots of freckles to go along with her happy demeanor, was the 4th floor night shift supervisor at City Hospital, another of the three medical facilities the town boasted. She happened to be working part of today's shift for one of the St. Francis nurses who was out with an early season case of influenza. It also turned out she was a girlfriend of Miss Edie Hart. Small world, Mrs. Henry decided, itching for another piece of chocolate but managing to control herself. Her smile made a return as Peter Gunn sauntered back and stopped next to the blonde.
The private investigator stuck his right hand in his pants pocket and casually leaned an elbow on the counter. He nodded at Lauren, a little smile tilting his lips as he gave half an ear to what she and Edie were discussing and the other half to Mrs. Henry, who was rambling on about the pretty flowers – "They really brighten up the place, don't they?" – and the candy – "You do know what they say," she reminded him with twinkling eyes. "You can't buy happiness but you can buy chocolate, and that's kind of the same thing." Pete confessed the big box of Whitman's was Edie's idea, she'd suggested it when they stopped at the florist to pick up the flowers he'd ordered the previous night.
"I like a man who listens to a woman," Wilma Henry smiled.
She and Miss Miles assured him neither the flowers nor the candy had been necessary but they appreciated the thought, as would the rest of the staff. And they listened and their smiles widened as Pete explained that he just wanted to express his thanks for what everyone had done for him during those six days he'd been in the room across the hall. For what they'd done for Edie and his dad. He knew their professional code of ethics prohibited him from doing much more, and that a few flowers and a box of chocolates would never be enough to repay the debt he owed them, but he did want them to know he very much appreciated their care and the excellent treatment they'd provided. Pete glanced at Edie as she stood beside him. Her face was turned to his, one of those smiles he could look at forever coloring her lips and taking over the cornflower blue of her eyes, the expression on her face one that he only ever saw when she looked at him. No one else, only him. Then she looked away and she added her thanks on top of his and he was certain he saw her lips tremble with her words before she impulsively hugged plump gray-haired Mrs. Henry and pretty green-eyed Miss Miles.
Pete gave a look at the clock on the wall and then out of habit glanced at the Timex on his wrist. He reached for Edie's hand, wrapping his larger one around it where it rested on the counter and lacing his fingers through hers, and told her they should probably be on their way if he wanted to be on time for his appointment up the street at the facility where Dr. Carson's practice was located. He stood waiting with patient amusement as she again tilted her blonde head toward Lauren Taylor and the two engaged in a low-voiced conversation. He didn't have the strength to pull his gaze away from his girl's face even when the auburn-haired nurse smiled at him over Edie's shoulder and told him he looked much better than he had the last time she'd seen him. Edie had mentioned to him that Lauren had come by the hospital several times to check on him and to visit with her for a while as she sat at his bedside. His eyes finally found Lauren's saucy gaze and he said as much to the young woman.
"She told me I spoke to you a couple times. I'm sorry I don't remember."
"I'm not surprised." Her smile widened as she slipped her hands into the wide pockets of her white uniform dress. "I saw that goose egg on the back of your head and it wasn't a pretty sight." She chuckled lightly as he unthinkingly reached to touch the spot and gave a little grimace at the tenderness that remained. She looked at Edie again, still a little shy around the other woman's boyfriend whom she'd been acquainted with for only a few months. Edie Hart was a different story altogether. She couldn't be shy around her if she tried. "Should I call you about next weekend?"
"Let me call you. I need to check with June to see what her schedule looks like. I know Sheila won't have a problem with either day." The pretty blonde pointedly ignored her male companion's suddenly narrowed gaze, keeping her attention focused on her friend. "I'm not sure I can talk Lynn into coming but I'll try."
"You're sure I won't be in the way?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Edie told the other girl, waving away her doubts. "You've already met Sheila. June is just as nice but a lot quieter and I know you'll like her. Just don't let on that she's the reason we're all getting together." She leaned in to whisper those last words, hoping Pete didn't overhear but knowing better. "Lynn is somewhere in between the other two personality-wise. But I'll have to work to get her to join us. Even after all the time that's passed she's still not at the point where she wants to socialize very much."
The auburn-haired nurse have a smile that turned cheeky as she watched the handsome PI give her friend's hand a tug and tell her to stop gossiping, they needed to get going or he'd be late, pulling her in the direction of the elevator even as she was trying to finish her train of conversation. Edie turned with a wave as she trotted along beside Pete and mouthed a silent "I'll call you."
Peter Gunn heaved a contented sigh as he moved around the bedroom and changed from his suit and tie into comfortable tan slacks, a short-sleeved checked shirt and a dark blue vee-neck sweater-vest that buttoned down the front. Looking down at his sock-clad feet he decided to forego shoes, curling his toes childishly into the carpet before chuckling at his own behavior and padding quietly down the stairs, his thoughts returning to his visit with with the doctor.
Joe Carson had poked at his ribs and prodded his kidneys, looked in his ears, shined his little flashlight into his eyes and probed the back of his head. He had tested his reflexes with the tap of a rubber hammer below his knee and with several different sized tongue depressors had checked his gag reflex. That hadn't been much fun. He'd made him read an eye chart and follow the tip of a pencil with his eyes without moving his head and squint at the very smallest lines of a medical textbook and even had him read some of the words, most of which he didn't know the meaning of much less how to pronounce. He had been made to walk a straight line heel to toe and then stand with his eyes closed and extend the forefinger of each hand to touch his nose. Still with his eyes shut he had been given several objects – which turned out to be a cotton ball and a paint brush – and was told to describe what they felt like. When Carson asked him to make faces Pete had begun to feel a little ridiculous. But he'd smiled and frowned and grimaced and winked as the doctor instructed, being advised it was to test whether his facial muscles had been affected by his head injury, and tried to avoid Edie's laughing eyes and her attempts to hide a smile at his contortions. He supposed he might have overdone his face-making to amuse her. Just a little.
Following that tomfoolery Dr. Carson began asking detailed questions, waiting for his replies before looking to Edie for confirmation from where she sat next to Pete on the little brown couch in the exam room. Carson said he wanted honest answers. Was Pete feeling any anxiety? How about depression? Was he getting enough sleep or too much sleep or was he having problems sleeping? Pete admitted he'd been having nightmares. Had he been irritable or confused? The PI said no. Edie mentioned that he'd been fidgety for the past few days but that was normal for Mr. Peter Gunn. She'd be concerned if he wasn't. Any dizziness, nausea or vomiting? Not since the first day he'd been home. He still had headaches that came and went but they weren't as bad as they'd been and his concentration was much improved.
Seemingly happy with the responses he received, Carson had cleared him to return to normal activities but suggested he continue to take it easy for another couple of weeks where his work was concerned. He wasn't to take on anything that might overtax him mentally or that might cause undue physical exertion. Or get him beaten to a pulp, shot at, knocked senseless, run off the road, hit over the head with a whiskey bottle or taken for a long walk off a short pier. Those weren't Carson's exact words but they might as well have been. Dr. Gregory Stewart, his personal physician whose office was in the same building and with whom he had visited directly after, made certain he'd follow those instructions by scheduling a follow-up for the PI in two weeks. Both physicians told Pete he could drive as long as it didn't strain his eyes or give him a headache.
Despite vehement protests on his part and some strategic attempts to grab it from her hand, Edie managed to hang onto the car key and drove them home. They'd stopped at The Home Made Ice Cream Shoppe on the way, Edie having a Whitehouse Cherry Vanilla cone while he opted for Chocolate Marshmallow. They sat at a table for two next to the big window, talking and people-watching and sharing bites of each others cones. When they exchanged them the first time the little boy sitting with his mother at the next table had howled in disgust and made a face that rivaled anything Pete had attempted for Dr. Carson. Edie had smiled his favorite smile and laughed. The sunlight touched her hair through the window and turned it to sparkling gold and her face glowed and Pete smiled too and didn't look away until he felt the stickiness of the vanilla ice cream melting and running down to cover his fingers. She'd just smiled wider and laughed harder. They'd quickly finished their cones and retrieved the half gallon container of Neapolitan that Milly Donavan had kept for them in the little freezer behind the counter, finally finding themselves back at the apartment at four-thirty.
He found Edie in the living room studying the take-out and delivery menus that were kept in the drawer closest to the telephone. She was wearing his robe that she'd thrown on to wear until the time came that she had to leave for work. The PI moved to stand behind her, his hands finding her hips for just a moment, then his arms slipped around her waist and he pulled her against his chest. He leaned his chin on her shoulder and placed a light kiss against his favorite spot on her neck and gave a glance at the menu she was perusing.
"What are you in the mood for?" The blonde breathed a contented sigh and allowed her head to fall back against his shoulder as his lips played with her ear and his warm breath flirted with her cheek.
"That depends." His voice was a rough rumble in her ear and she felt his smile against her skin. She turned so she faced him and looped her arms around his neck, the menus still clutched in her fingers. The PI tightened his embrace and his eyes gazed teasingly into hers. "What did you have in mind?"
"Pete..." She smiled against the kiss he silenced her with and found it difficult to let go when he eventually relinquished her lips to place a sedate peck on her nose. "Food," she reluctantly murmured, her arms falling from around his neck as she leaned back in his embrace and gave the menus another look. "Just food." She squinted at the tri-fold bill of fare from Guido's.
"The story of my life," Pete complained good-naturedly. He glanced over her shoulder as she continued her perusal of the menus, his blue gaze falling on the extra-large pink gift bag adorned with black and gray poodles that had been placed in the center of the coffee table. The bag came dangerously close to matching those bath towels Edie was so fond of, making him consider whether he wanted to know what was inside. His curiosity got the better of him and he asked. He performed a remarkably good imitation of Edie's eye roll upon learning there were presents that Pop had left for them.
"He just can't help himself," Pete sighed with resignation. "The last time he was here he left me his – " He stopped himself in the nick of time.
"His what?" Edie asked when he didn't continue. It was her turn to be curious. She knew it had been several years since the elder Gunn had visited, well before she and Pete had met. Nothing he might have given to his son at that time could have any bearing on their life that would bring about that reticence from Pete. Could it?
"Nothing." He waved off her question and sidetracked her with another kiss. "Just some silly thing."
He'd come close to blurting out something he didn't want her to know about. Not yet anyway, but someday. And if he had said the words she would have wanted to know where it was, and he couldn't tell her that either. He guessed he should just be glad Pop hadn't asked about it when he was here. Pete hoped she'd just forget about it. But Edie Hart could be a tenacious little thing when she set her mind on it. Placing his hands on her hips he turned her in the direction of the phone.
"Guido's sounds good to me."
He suggested she call in their order while he unloaded the gift bag. It was big and looked bulky and knowing Pop it was packed to the gills with things they didn't need but that he wanted them to have. Pete was halfway prepared for the eclectic blend Frank Gunn most likely left behind but now that Pop had a 'daughter' to buy for there was no telling what they might find in the pretty pink poodle-decorated bag. Between mouth-watering bites of Guido's famous Italian meatloaf drenched in his secret sauce, and nibbles from the big sampler plate he'd sent along, they took stock of what Pop had decided they couldn't live without and wondered when he'd had time to shop for the items. Edie decided he was as sneaky as his son.
There were three sets of Springmaid sheets. One was a pretty cream color with a band of dark brown edging and solid brown pillowcases. The second was white with pink edging and sported a pattern of little pink flowers. The pillowcases were in the same style minus the flowers. Pete's eyebrows went up and his eyes widened at the final set, a soft linen in a pattern of pea green, dark blue and white zig-zags, the pillowcases the same pattern on one side and dark blue on the other. While he'd had reservations upon seeing the flowery pink and white sheets, he decided Pop had definitely outdone himself with this last set. Pete glanced up at Edie, the pensive look on her face not what he was expecting as she contemplated the sheets. She looked up as he remained silent, catching the question in his eyes.
"Penny?"
"I'm really going to miss your dad."
"He's going to miss you too." He leaned forward to place a soft kiss on her forehead, his lips lingering.
"Pete?"
"Hmmm?" Somewhat reluctantly he drew away.
"Did you tell him about us?" she finally asked, gauging his expression as she spoke, her gaze dropping to the vibrantly hued sheets as she ran her hand over the plastic wrapping that held them.
"He's known about us almost as long as we've known about us," Pete teased.
"No, I don't mean like that. He never once hesitated over or questioned the fact that we share the same bed. I really thought he might mention it or sit us down and explain why that might not be considered proper. But he didn't seem to find it too terribly awkward that we sleep together."
The man's lips twitched as he set his empty plate aside and took a sip of grape juice, watching as Thomas crawled out from beneath a chair to take a whiff of the remaining sauce but being put off by the aroma left behind by the garlic bread. His tail performed one of its puffing acts and he quickly disappeared into the kitchen to find some kibble.
"Says the woman who didn't have the pleasure of sitting through his sex talk after we came home from Mother's the other morning."
The blonde's eyes got big as she stared at him then narrowed suspiciously as she tried to determine whether or not he might be joking.
"Pete..."
"I got the definite feeling it wasn't the sleeping part he was concerned about," he teased with a smirk. The smile faded a little as he slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her toward him so she was halfway in his lap where they sat on the sofa, her own arm circling his neck. "Look, honey, I won't sit here and say it's not important what my dad thinks. I respect and understand his sentiments. But our private life – yours and mine..." He touched his fingers lightly first to her chest then to his to emphasize his words, "...is just that, our life. Pop understands that and he respects that, too." The PI gave a chuckle and his lips straightened as his familiar smile returned. "And to answer your question, no. I never even casually mentioned to him anything about our sleeping arrangements."
"He's taking it much better than Mama and Papa did. Especially Mama." She gathered together the three sets of sheets from where they'd slipped between them on the sofa. "I can't imagine Mama ever giving us sheets."
"Only if they'd be used for wrapping my cold, dead body."
"I'm glad you find some humor in the situation."
"I like your mother."
"That's what makes it all so ridiculous," she grumbled. She stacked the three packages of linens on the coffee table, gifts that had come with no lectures or strings attached, and discretely slipped the green, blue and white zig-zags to the bottom of the pile. "We'll make certain we lose these in the closet until the next time your dad pays a visit," she cheekily told Pete. She could tell he liked the brown and cream set but she'd make sure the little pink flowers were the next to grace their bed. And there would be no argument about the color this time.
She handed him a small box with his name on it, watched as he opened it and parted the white tissue paper and stared for a moment before lifting out a pocket knife attached to a silver chain. Edie could tell the knife wasn't new but the mother-of-pearl handle looked in vintage condition and the bolsters and spacers and other steel parts exhibited a shiny brilliance. The chain appeared freshly minted and looked like something Pop might have picked up in the men's department at Chadwick's or at Rudy's. Pete lifted a little card from the box and read it several times over before handing it to her. Frank Gunn's bold handwriting covered the half-folded note. 'I figure it's about time I pass this on to you. I know it's just a pocket knife, but it's been priceless to me ever since your Grandpa Luke took it out of his pocket and handed it over to me the night you were born. He was always very proud of you and I think it would tickle him to death knowing you have it now. I never used a chain but knowing the way you chase around I thought you'd appreciate having one. I love you, son. Your Pop.'
Edie looked at Pete who was looking at the knife he held in his palm. If her eyes had misted over at his dad's words then she could only imagine what he was feeling. He glanced up at her and appeared about to say something but just cleared his throat and gave her a little smile. Then he stood and attached the chain to a loop on the waist of his pants and slipped the knife in his pocket. He patted the pocket and looked at the chain and remarked that it would look better with a suit and she told him it looked just fine with the pants he was wearing.
Pete didn't say anything further, just fiddled with the chain for a moment before sighing and reaching for an envelope from the table and handing it to Edie as he sat back down beside her. They smiled over the gift certificate for dinner at Constantine's, one of their favorite restaurants located in the old town area, and the larger blue and white envelope from The Camera Shop that held photos Pop had taken with his new camera which they silently decided they would look through later. There were several books for Edie – Please Don't Eat the Daisies by Jean Kerr, The Scapegoat by Daphne du Maurier and Breakfast at Tiffany's by Truman Capote. They opened a gaily wrapped, oddly shaped box and found a bag of salmon-flavored treats from If It Has Tails for Thomas as well as a fuzzy green toy mouse that squeaked when Pete unintentionally squeezed it, bringing the cat galloping back from the kitchen.
Pete reached for the last box, comically rolling his eyes and sighing as he passed it along to the woman seated beside him.
"Another one with Edie Hart's name on it."
She observed him from beneath her eyelashes as her fingers felt for the spot where tape held wrapping paper down. In their time together she had discovered that Peter Gunn, Man for Hire, was very good at pouting and that he looked very cute when he did. The tender smile she gave him turned to one of delight as she removed the paper and opened the white gift box she discovered beneath. Within it she found a music box piano which she gently lifted out. It was made of wood and was painted a beautiful light forest green color, with red roses and a filigree design painted in gold on the lid. The keys were green and white and there was more filigree on the sides. Edie opened the box, lyrics dancing through her head as a pretty piano tune began to play. 'My Bonnie lies over the ocean, my Bonnie lies over the sea, my Bonnie lies over the ocean, oh bring back my Bonnie to me...'
"How does he do it?"
Pete turned his head to find Edie gazing at him with overly bright eyes.
"One day when we were talking I made an offhand comment about Papa singing it to me when I was little and wouldn't go to sleep." She gave a damp chuckle. "When I told him Papa sings almost as bad as you do I didn't think he'd ever stop laughing."
Pete's lips tilted in a smile and he brought his arm up to circle her shoulders, pulling her close as they continued to listen until the music slowed and eventually came to a stop. They sat in silence for a few more minutes before Edie closed the lid of the music box and leaned forward to set it down. Thinking she planned to gather everything together and dispose of the wrappings, the PI moved to help, then paused as her hand went to the vase of carnations he'd set on the table the previous evening. Removing his note from where she'd replaced it among the blooms, she handed it to him, still folded.
"Would you read it to me?" Her lips trembled as she tried a smile.
Pete looked from her to the note and then met her gaze. His face was serious but a smile lurked in his eyes. He didn't bother unfolding the piece of paper, just repeated what he'd written there.
"Life isn't perfect. But when I'm with you it's as close as it ever gets."