Dexter at Dawn, Chapter 05
by Technomad
The very next day, we were back at the jail. Rita, rather to my surprise, was in better spirits. Her eyes lit up when she saw her children, and Arya, and she said: "Oh! It's so nice to see you again! Several of the women in here have children that don't ever come to see them! I'm so sad for them!"
Astor, Cody and Arya all shook their heads. "We'd never desert you, Mom," Astor said, clearly speaking for all three of them. Cody and Arya both nodded as she spoke.
As the adult present, I filled Rita in: "Our lawyer, Ms. Taliaferro, says that there's a good chance you'll walk. Either they'll drop the charges, or they'll be dismissed in court."
"A good chance?" Rita seemed more focused than I was accustomed to. Apparently being arrested and thrown in jail on false charges had got her undivided attention. While I wasn't at all sure this would last, it was, I admit, a refreshing change. Normally, keeping track of what she's trying to tell me is a difficult task.
"Nothing in this is a hundred-percent sure. If whoever did this - " I suspected Paul Bennett very strongly, but had no proof yet that he was directly involved - "can round up some people who'll lie to the judge, or if you get a very hostile judge - Ms. Taliaferro says that there are some judges around here who're mindlessly hostile to 'druggies' - it's not impossible that you'll be convicted."
"Oh, God!" Rita turned very pale. "I don't know how I'd handle a women's prison!"
Knowing Rita as I did, I figured she'd shortly have the inmates and staff all but eating out of her hand, but knew better than to say so. "We'll do all we can to make sure that doesn't happen, Rita." With that, the wardress came in to announce that our visit was over. As Rita got up to bid us farewell, her self-control broke, and she sobbed and sobbed as the wardress led her away.
While I do not have human feelings - a monster like me cannot have human feelings - I did not like seeing Rita cry. At all. Neither did Astor, Cody or Arya. They all looked as grim as I felt, and if whoever had planted those drugs in Rita's car had shown up and made himself known, I wouldn't have given much for his chances. Cody had killed before, to my certain knowledge, and I knew that Arya had, as well. Astor, as far as I knew, wasn't up on the scoreboard - yet - but I knew she loved her mother. She would have no problem participating in disposing of whomever had done this.
Later that day, we had to go back to Miami. While the school authorities, and my employers, had been very understanding about us having to deal with this emergency, life did have to go on. As we boarded the plane, I could tell that the children were unhappy at having to go.
Officer Wheeler came to see us off. "I'm sorry to see you go," he said. "I'm glad to have introduced you to our lovely city, but I wish it had been under other circumstances."
"A girl wishes that, too," Arya said. "A girl would like to come back up here sometime, when all this is over with, and she has more time to look around. Perhaps Dexter would be willing to come along?"
"Oh, we'll be back up here," I assured her. "Until Rita's out of this jam, we'll be up here regularly. I expect we'll get to know the flight attendants on that airline we took pretty well."
Arya visibly chewed that idea over, considering it. "A girl wishes to accompany you on these journeys, Dexter. A girl thinks Astor and Cody would also want to come along."
Astor and Cody both nodded agreement. As usual, they had very little to say. Arya wasn't particularly talkative but compared to them she was a chatterbox.
The flight back home was uneventful, and Deborah met us at the airport. "What news?" she asked, as soon as we were through with baggage retrieval and were headed out to her car.
"Well, the President has some new proposals about taxes…" I began, before she cut me off with one of her savage arm punches.
"You know what I mean, idiot! What news about Rita? What did the lawyer say?"
"Ms. Taliferro - and thank you for helping us find her, she's apparently very knowledgeable - says we've got a good chance to get the charges dismissed, or to win at trial if it comes to that. Nothing's absolutely certain, though. If whoever did this rustles up some people willing to perjure themselves on the stand, or we get a judge with a hate-on for 'druggies,' we might lose. Even then, though, there's always the appeals process." In the course of my hobby, I had made a point of studying up on criminal law, just in case I might need the knowledge someday.
"Hmmm…" Deborah knew all about the vagaries of the judicial system. For that matter, one reason my late foster father, Harry, had got me "squared away" when he discovered my proclivities, instead of hauling me off for intensive therapy, was because one of his colleagues was having trouble with a child molester he'd arrested, who had been released from custody due to a "procedural error" and was looking for revenge. Paul Bennett was another example. He was as guilty as I am, albeit not of things like my hobby, but thanks to quirks in the system, he was out free at least a decade before he should have even hoped for parole.
By this time, we'd forged our way through Miami's usual ferocious traffic to arrive safely at home. Deborah, being a lifelong resident and a Miami-Dade cop, had handled it with her usual aplomb, swearing at other drivers and steering us through various perils. We got out, got our bags, and headed on in.
Once we were safely home, Arya disappeared with her bag. I knew she was going to be glad to have her knives back on her person. She'd been uncomfortable having to keep them in her baggage on the plane and at the jail, but only someone who knew her as well as I did would have noticed. By the standards of most girls her age, Arya (and Astor) were as stoic as Vulcans.
Once she was reunited with her blades, Arya headed out to the back yard, and began her exercises with a straight stick. Deborah saw and came out to see what she was doing. I saw them talking through the kitchen window, but since all seemed to be going well, I left them to it. Deborah's not a "people person" to put it very mildly, but she did seem to get on well with my acquired children.
When Deborah came in, she was looking very thoughtful. "Dex," she said, "I wonder if signing Arya up for fencing lessons would be a good idea?"
I hadn't thought of that, but now that Deborah mentioned it, it sounded like a wonderful idea. "Good idea, Deb. Let me get online, and I'll see what there is available."
A few minutes with my computer, and I had a list of fencing organizations not too far away. "How does this one look?" Deb looked at the one I'd chosen for a first look. It featured introductory lessons and said that beginners much younger than Arya were quite welcome.
"Let's ask her," Deb said. The wish was father to the deed, and soon we were out in the back yard, watching as Arya finished her exercises. I had to admit, she was quite graceful. I thought she'd probably do well with fencing.
When we asked her, Arya's eyes lit up. "A girl began to learn 'water dancing' with her teacher, Syrio Forel, before her troubles began," she said. Then she looked very sad. "When the soldiers came to arrest a girl, Syrio Forel fought them single-handed, holding them off for long enough for a girl to escape. To this day, a girl doesn't know if Syrio Forel survived or not."
Deborah looked very strange. If she hadn't been Deborah, I'd have thought she was tearing up. "Syrio Forel did what any teacher, what any policeman, should do, Arya," she said. "It's our duty, and our honor, to protect those under our care."
I knew Deborah meant every word. She'd have laid down her life to protect Arya in that situation, just as this Syrio Forel seemed to have done.
A few nights later, Arya and I were at the fencing academy I had found. Deborah had the evening off and was keeping an eye on Astor and Cody. It wasn't that I didn't trust them, but it looked better to have an adult on hand. Deborah enjoyed Astor's company and liked to regale her with tales of her adventures in the police force. I was amused at the thought of Astor, years down the line, being a tough policewoman like Deborah was, while Cody followed more in my footsteps. Cody's Dark Passenger - what he called his "shadow guy" - was much stronger than hers.
The lady in charge, a Madame Duchamp, was very friendly and welcoming. In her French-accented English, she said: "Oh, good evening, Mr. Morgan, Mademoiselle Stark! I'm so glad you're interested in our sport!"
Arya turned to me, puzzlement in her eyes. "Mademoiselle?"
"It's French for 'Miss,' Arya. In French-speaking countries, unmarried women, particularly young ones, are always addressed as 'Mademoiselle Last-Name.'"
"Thank you. A girl always likes learning new things."
To Madame Duchamp, I explained: "Miss Stark is from another place, Madame. We're not sure how we ended up in Miami."
"A girl is glad she ended up in Miami," Arya said, looking up at me. "A girl is glad she met Dexter and his family."
Madame Duchamp beamed. "Well, that's wonderful! Let's get you fitted out, Miss Stark, and see where we stand." After getting Arya fitted with a face mask, a jacket - it turned out that she needed a different jacket from most of the other girls her age, since, unlike them, she was left-handed - trousers, and a slim sword called a "foil," she called Arya over to the "piste," a floor covering on which fencing took place. "Come, Mademoiselle Stark. Let us see what you already know." When I'd called to set this up, I'd mentioned that Arya had had training in her previous home, but that I didn't know much about it.
In her own equipment, Madame Duchamp squared off against Arya. She tried a quick lunge, but Arya parried it very easily and counterattacked. Back and forth their swords went, and I couldn't follow the action. I know nothing of fencing. After about five minutes, Madame Duchamp backed away and took off her face mask.
"Excellent!" She gave Arya a huge smile. "Your technique is unorthodox, ma cherie, but very effective! You'll have to start out in the "U" category, the lowest, since you haven't been in any matches, but I think that after a few, you'll start moving up!"
"A girl is pleased to hear that you think well of her," Arya answered, deadpan as usual. "A girl remembers her first teacher, Syrio Forel, and honors his memory every day of her life. Since a girl was gifted with the rest of her life by her teacher, this is the least she can do."
"Oh! What a beautiful thought!" Madame Duchamp wiped a tear away. "I can tell that you have many stories to tell, Mademoiselle Stark. I hope to make your further acquaintance."
"A girl hopes to get to know you better, Madame," Arya said.
Since we'd established that this was definitely something Arya wanted to do, Madame Duchamp and I went off to make arrangements. I had to explain that I might not always be able to bring her to lessons. "I work for the police, and they call me out at odd intervals. I can get a call just about at any time, and I have to show up quickly. Could you arrange to have Miss Stark picked up at our home by one of your other pupils?"
"But of course, Monsieur Morgan!" She smiled warmly at me. "We have several older female trainees here who live in your part of town, and they could certainly arrange to give Mademoiselle Stark lifts to and from home. Fencers feel a solidarity with one another."
I'd been bracing myself for this costing a smallish fortune, but to my surprise, the fees were very reasonable. "We can also arrange for your purchase of Mademoiselle Stark's necessary equipment on a time-payment basis. We have a good store of used and second-hand equipment, much of it in very good condition, and we make it available to our trainees at very low prices." Relieved, I made out a check, collected Arya once she'd changed back into her street clothes, and got out of there.
"A girl is very grateful to you for doing this for a girl," Arya said, as we drove for home. "A girl seldom knew much kindness, other than from her family, before coming here. And for a long time before coming here, a girl was out of contact with her family, wandering through the world and trying to get home."
I didn't say anything, but I was thinking about this place she said she'd come from. Her stories were consistent, and the Bermuda Triangle was not far off Miami's shore. I wondered if the planes and ships that had disappeared there had gone to other worlds.
I was also thinking about some of the people she'd described. The Clegane brothers both sounded like people I would not have minded introducing to my Dark Passenger. The elder, Gregor, had apparently burned his little brother's face horribly when they were children, because his little brother had dared to play with a toy Gregor had discarded. At the thought of meeting such a person, my Passenger began whispering all sorts of ingenious suggestions into my ear.
The younger brother, Sandor, was not much of an improvement. He'd traveled with Arya for quite some time, but Arya hated him with all her heart, for having killed a playmate of hers to assuage the bruised ego of that spoiled royal monster she'd mentioned at some length. "At least he was honest with a girl," Arya had commented. "That is rare in any world."
If it happened that I ended up in that world, the Dark Passenger and I would probably have a great deal to do, once I found my feet and figured out what was what. It'd be what I'd heard that the military called a "target-rich environment." We'd have a huge smorgasbord of choices before us.
Astor and Cody were glad to see us, and Arya told them all about her new activity. Astor and Cody looked rather interested but didn't say anything about wanting to join her. But that gave me an idea.
Cody, much to his disgust, was enrolled in Cub Scouts, although he detested the fact that the uniform included shorts. If I could get Astor also enrolled in something, and arrange that Arya, Cody and Astor were all out of the house on the same evenings, my Dark Passenger and I would be nearly as free to do what needed doing as we'd been before Rita and I got married.
Deb was also interested in hearing about our evening. "This does sound like a good outlet," she commented. "It'll help keep her fit and healthy, and away from trouble. If I'm free on the nights she's scheduled to be there, I don't mind taking her over there." She gave Arya a smile. "Arya and I get along just fine."
When she was asked, Astor took her time answering, clearly thinking about the idea. "I wouldn't mind learning martial arts," she finally said. She looked up at Deb. "When I'm on the police force, martial arts training will come in very handy."
Deb beamed. She really did like the idea of mentoring a young Astor and turning her into a fine officer of the Miami-Dade Police Force. "You're exactly right, Astor," she said. "All police receive training in martial arts, but early study helps a great deal. Let's look around and find a style and school that's right for you."
That was my cue. "I'll go online and see what there is."
As it turned out, there were a bewildering plethora of styles and schools in the Miami area, even limiting ourselves to what was in reasonable driving distance and which schools would accept beginners at Astor's age. "Deb? I know there are some serious martial artists on the police force. Can you ask around among them and see what they'd advise? I'd as soon not have Astor in a style that's not right for her, or a fly-by-night school." Part of what I'd found was warnings against schools run by teachers whose credentials or methods were questionable. There were apparently a lot of quick buck "masters" out there whose students got severely substandard or actually harmful, training.
I hadn't forgotten Rita, either. I'd talked with several bail bondsmen but wasn't encouraged by what I heard. Since Rita was a Florida resident, she was apparently considered a "flight risk," the more so because she lived in Miami. With the Bahamas so close offshore, I could see their point. In any case, scraping up the minimum payment they required to post bail to get her out until trial would not be easy, at best. I was going to look into re-financing the house, but since Rita owned it and I didn't, I wasn't sure of my chances of success.
When I got a chance to talk with her on the phone, I told her about Arya and Astor. "Oh!" she said, "that's an absolutely wonderful idea, Dexter! I think it'll do them both a lot of good!"
"That was my idea, Rita," I assured her. "We're working on getting you bailed out, but we'd need to re-finance the house, and since I'm not on the papers as co-owner, I can't do it without your signature. I'll talk to a lawyer about what we can do."
"Please do! I mean - it's not like I'm not doing anything useful - several of the women here are new mothers, and we old hands are trying to support them as best we can - oh, I miss my babies! And you! And Arya!" She broke down crying.
As the phone call ended, I made a grim vow to do all I could to free and exonerate Rita, and find out whoever had done this. Whoever did it, I felt, deserved all that the Dark Passenger and I could do.
However, there were other factors involved. A few days later, I got a phone call at work. "Dexter? This is Astor!"
I sat right up and paid close attention. While not as tight-lipped as her brother, Astor was not one for gabbing on the phone, and she'd never called me before, particularly not at work.
"What is it, Astor?"
"It's our dad! He's here at the school with some sort of court papers and a couple of sheriff's deputies! He says that since Mom's in jail, he's been granted temporary custody of me and Cody!"
I felt like ice water had been poured down my back.