SUBURBAN FALLS CHURCH

Life had a way of working out, thought Renee. There she was, her very first night/morning in Stan Beeman's suburban bedroom, the first morning waking there. He'd gone early that Saturday morning down to The Bureau. She 'slept in', was now adjusting her old bikini, one of many firsts for her since she'd been in her 20s. Stan, it seemed, was good for her. The bikini still fit, sort of, but it was meant for 30 lbs. ago. It had been nine-months at the gym before she dared try it on as it was, for anyone other than the mirror - because of the way it 'bulged' out of places that had not been there before!

Looking at herself in the mirror, it was almost comical the way her breasts slightly overflowed….. so, planning ahead, she'd leave it on for his return, when Stan got home. Maybe go out into the back-yard and scandalize the neighbours!

This was a first-in-a-long-time, sleeping in an actual man's bedroom! That was thanks to the burst pipe at her apartment. The stuff that she could salvage from all the water-damage was now in suitcases, boxes and what have you - strewn all over Stan's house. A big house, too big anyway for one guy. If Renee had been a conspiratorial sort, she would have suspected that Claudia herself had taken a hammer to her water-pipes!

But there she was, Renee in suburbia! In Seattle, she'd always lived downtown. She'd once dated a guy who lived in West Seattle down by the Fauntleroy ferry terminal. She'd loved the beachfront, but the suburban sedateness always made her cringe. The pace of downtown Seattle in the late '70s was one she liked: hightech, Pike Fish Market, and coffee shops.

That was then, this was now. Downtown D.C. was starting to get too big for her - she could see why people her age fled to Virginia and the suburbs past Arlington and Alexandria.

Stan had said she could stay in the house for as long as the repairs took. She had been told it would take at least a month. Stan had quipped, "if I'm lucky, it'll take three." She had replied, 'very funny, Mr. Beeman, very funny'. But things, they were working out. He genuinely was a nice man. Troubled, but decent. This man, Stan Beeman, he was working out.

Except for the way her old bikini fit. So said the mirror.

What Claudia had not told her about him, you could write a book. No one had mentioned that Stan was Special Agent Stanley Beeman, Counterintelligence for the FBI. On their first date - February 29 - that's when she found out! ('Nice one, Claudia!') It was a good thing that it had come to her raw - her surprise with him was genuine. Almost to the point of panic. Claudia had sent her into the belly of the beast!

Indeed, his disarming quip at her dis-ease had been - 'telling'? He smiled and had said, "don't worry Renee, no one suspects you of anything!"

Before the disaster in her apartment, she had been the one to take charge in their growing relationship. They hadn't slept together until the fly-fishing trip they'd taken - at her insistence. The tent had been too hot for sleeping bags - which they had planned to zip together anyway. She had found it touching that Stan was the one who balked at sex, 'too soon'. He said he felt like a school boy on a first date - all awkward-like.

She asked him if he'd had anyone else, other than his first wife. She had presented the question poorly, because he had gone all silent about it. When she apologized, he assured her that the question did not bug him - it was just that he didn't really want to talk about it.

Until he did. Then he wouldn't stop. "Look, the marriage with Sandra, it was over. Me, I was weak… to be honest, it was a work thing." Work, she thought? He worked in counterintel! Had Stan 'honeytrapped' someone? That would have been rich! He then smiled and said, "if I say any more I'm going to have to ask for your security clearance," which Renee, of course, did not have. Yet the factoid of his affair (while married) she stored away for her very infrequent visits with Claudia.

When he asked her of she'd ever, herself, been close to marriage - she told him about the guy in Seattle who'd had waterfront property at Fauntleroy. She said, "it became plain I liked his house better than him… not really a good basis for a marriage."

On that fishing/camping trip, both were sincere when they said to each other, that they could easily talk with each other as a friend. Both felt that neither was either judging or hiding anything - outside of the obvious strictures of Stan's work. They actually did become fast friends, the nighttime in the tent took care of the rest.

Remember, the fly-fishing trip had been before the flood in Renee's Washington apartment. Stan had said, "well I hope you like me better than my house. I'm alone there and it's so big. There's no 'people-noises' anymore, other than me."

All things considered, Renee and Stan were remarkably compatible as a couple.

Their neighbours across the street? Stan had told his then-friend Philip, that he'd never been happier, that he had only one other friend he could talk so easily with…. him. Stan had said, "Renee, she's a female version of you."

Despite Philip's growing doubts, he doubted that Renee was too much like him - in background. Obviously not a Russian. Then again, Philip had once reported to The Centre that Stan was lonely and perhaps susceptible to a relationship - if properly approached.

Philip always wanted to, but never did ask either Claudia or Gabriel about Renee. After December 1987, it all became moot anyway.

ACROSS THE STREET - POST 29th of FEBRUARY 1984

Still in Stan's upstairs bedroom, she walked away from the mirror to his window - at the mirror she'd just spotted another stubborn roll of…. don't call it fat…. just above her bikini bottom, when she posed to the side. That sight demanded that she at least wrap something around her hips for Stan when he got back - to mask the obvious, that she was not exactly in her 20s, nor even her 30s anymore.

At the window, the few cars which she saw traveling the boulevard below was perhaps the most pleasant of the Saturday morning surprises. She now liked sedate suburbs. So much roadway for so few cars - and this was the weekend! Maybe all the young families were at the park for a game, or at the malls.

She looked across at the Jennings' house, by layout a carbon copy of Stan's. She could see that the parents, their bedroom was on the second floor to the left above the living room. The light in their bedroom seemed to have no rhyme or reason to it - Stan said that travel agents had weirder 'hours' than the FBI. In the upstairs middle must have been one of the kids' bedrooms.

Then the Jennings' front door opened, there he was walking out to his driveway. The young boy from Claudia's picture - Stan had called him, 'Henry'. Stan said that if she was going to be there for one - or three - months, then Renee was bound to run into the boy. Watching him cross the street to the Beeman's below her, she remembered Stan saying that his own son, Matthew, rarely came over those days…. but, he said, "you're going to have to get used to Henry. Most times he doesn't even knock."

So, throwing a flimsy wrap around her hips, she went downstairs just in time to hear the doorbell ring.

Opening it, the boy froze. Judging by the level of the 13-year-old's eyes, Renee was pretty sure what the issue was. She felt embarrassed. Without looking up, he said, "hey, is Mr. Beeman home?" ('Hey kid, Renee thought, my eyes are up here!')

Renee diverted his attention by offering her hand for a handshake. "Hi, I'm Renee. I'm Stan's friend, and he's helping me out with a disaster I've had at my apartment." At his silence, she continued, "you must be Henry…. Stan's told me about you! Do you want to come in?"

Henry just stood there, as most hormoned-up, suburban teenage boys might. Finally he said, "Uh, er, mom and dad are on one of their trips. Paige is at church. There's nothing to do at home."

Renee said, "well, Stan went into work early this morning, said he should be back before noon. Have you had breakfast?" Henry said that he hadn't. She then opened the door wider, and offered, "you're welcome to come in, let me make you breakfast."

Which he eventually did, now not knowing where his eyes should go. Renee busied herself in Stan's kitchen - reminding herself that she was going to have to give Stan a shopping list - the cupboards were about as bare as one might expect in a live-alone man's home.

Renee did her best to make conversation with the boy, but eventually conceded that she was not going to make any progress wearing only a too-small bikini top. So she went upstairs, got an unmatched blouse out of a suitcase, then when she came back down made better progress with Henry… until Stan got home, at about 10:45 am. Early, even for a Saturday, because of all 'the issues' at the office, as he put it.

Seeing the boy, Stan got out the football game box, and he and Henry settled onto the dining-room table, spreading out the gridiron board, got out all the play-cards, as well as the coloured pieces for the teams. Minutes later they were rolling dice and yelling at each other like schoolkids. Which only one of them actually was.

Renee told them she was going to head out to the backyard for some sun. She briefly considered taking off her blouse within Henry's sight before exiting, but scolded herself - 'you said you wouldn't be creepy!'

JANUARY 1988 - FBI BUILDING, WASHINGTON D.C.

Agent: It was a bit of a surprise, Mrs. Beeman, to find you working in the building! I guess you'll be relieved to know that for this interview, you'll be paid! One of the perks of being on the payroll.

Renee: Well, this is my first week, sir. I'm still finding my way around.

Agent: Yes, I remember my first few weeks here, I'd been transferred in from the Seattle Field Office. It was a little daunting.

Renee: Seattle? I came to Washington from the west coast, too. The rain, it had got to me.

Agent: Me too. Then again, as your husband would tell you, we in the Bureau don't really control where we are posted.

Renee: How can I help? I gather this interview is because I live across the street….

Agent: Well, both you and Agent Beeman are unique to this case. Stan maybe more so. I was in on his interview - the guy cried. I'm told by them that know these things that his tears were genuine….

Renee: ….. I can vouch for that, sir. You have to remember, Stan and Philip were more than neighbours, they were best friends. I mean that, it sounds ludicrous, I know - given that Philip was…. was…

Agent: …. you can say it…..

Renee: …. was a Russian. Philip - genuinely I might add, no exaggeration - helped Stan get through his divorce. Philip - equally genuinely - helped Stan with me - I'm not the easiest person to live with, I'd been single for so long. Philip was the best man at our wedding.

Agent: How did you meet Stan?

Renee: We were at the same gym; Stan, tall and with his red hair, was quite the catch.

Agent: When did you know he was FBI?

Renee: He told me on our first date, Leap Day 1984. Our fourth anniversary is coming up next month. - pause - Elizabeth and I are….. ah, were planning a 4 year anniversary for next month, February 29….. to be at the Jennings…..

- awkward silence -

Agent: Did Stan mention anything to do with your neighbours, the Jennings, anything which might have given you pause?

Renee: Like what?

Agent: Anything. I mean, Stan's best friend was a sleeper KGB operative, living the American dream across the street….

Renee: ….. no, nothing. I mean that. Now that I'm working here at The Bureau myself, I 'get' that Special Agents simply cannot take their work home. But Stan said nothing, other than go over and drink Philip's beer.

Agent: What about you? You've said Stan never indicated anything. Was there anything that gave you pause?

Renee: I'm still not sure what you mean.

Agent: Well, let's start with Elizabeth Jennings. Did you share recipes or anything?

Renee (horrified at the stereotype, but secretly relieved at the level of thought that the agent had put into his questions): Outside of couple gatherings, barbecues that Stan and Philip organized - me and Elizabeth, we - infrequently - talked across the street when we were both getting the mail.

Agent: Anything?

Renee: Well, she'd missed Thanksgiving with us and her kids, her kids had to have Thanksgiving at our house. Henry, he was visiting down from the school in New Hampshire - both his mom and dad said that they had had to travel that weekend, for their business.

Agent: Which, as it turned out, was in Chicago - not in Atlanta as they'd told you.

Renee: - pause - That's what I'm told. Well, you people know that better than me. What I saw that day at the beginning of December last year - Elizabeth was falling apart. She reeked of cigarette smoke, even from across the street. She was the one to mention having Feb 29th at their place, she volunteered that from across the street….

Agent: You know that their daughter is also gone.

Renee: Yes, Stan said. - pause - Don't worry, that's all he'd said.

Agent: We're also interested in Henry Jennings. Word is that he'd not been involved in the Jennings' 'family business'. Do you have any insight into that?

Renee: I can tell you what I know….

(to be continued…)