There will be more interactions with Boyle and Katie/Duke and Alana in this chapter. Don't worry; it's still Gomer and Carter's love story.
Playboy magazine originated in 1953, while Penthouse magazine originated in 1965.
'Tessie' is an old song from a musical, 'The Silver Slipper,' and has been the official theme song for the Boston Red Sox. The mention of the music is more chilling as written.
Gimbles was an old department store that originated in 1842-1987, while Bloomingdale's was established in 1861.
Florence Eiseman is a fashion company that specializes in children's clothing. The brand was established in 1945.
German translations: Stimmt etwas nicht mit unserem kleinen Kätzchen?= Is something wrong with our little kitten?, Mein kleines Kätzchen, my little kitten, freundin= friend (feminine), Danke schoen= thank you very much
Spanish translations: Qué hermosa mujer= what a beautiful woman
Easter eggs from my BFF's Hogan's Heroes story, 'The Butterfly and the Wolf,' are mentioned.
Annette's mother's name, Leanne, is pronounced 'LAN.'
*GC*
Camp Hamilton, New York
"Sergeant Harris! Hey, Sergeant Harris, are you in here? I wanted to..."
A young Private of Camp Hamilton walked into an empty duty hut close to the mess hall. He walked in, finding no one sitting in the room. Where exactly was Sergeant Harris? Being young and curious, Private Justin Romero took it upon himself to sit in his Sergeant's desk chair. He sat for a few seconds, taking in the feeling of pretending he was a Sergeant. Justin picked up the phone, making like he was a higher-up, "F Company, Camp Hamilton, this is Sergeant Justin Romero speaking...why yes, Major, I will send my best man to drive you to the Officer's Club this late afternoon."
As Justin hung up the phone, he sat back in Brandon's chair, smiling smugly. He looked at his Sergeant's top drawer. There was something in him that was itching to open it up.
'Should I? Nah...it ain't my business...I shouldn't...I should...no, I should.'
Curiosity got the best of him as Justin opened up the top drawer, finding his Sergeant's wallet.
"Huh. I wonder how much money he has in here." Justin thought out loud as he opened the wallet, disappointed to find no cash. "Who carries a wallet without cash? Unless he blew it all? Maybe he did."
Instead of finding money, he discovered several pictures of Marine Privates in the other pocket.
"What? Why does he have pictures of Marine Privates in here?" Justin asked himself, going through the photos. "Is that Corporal Lancaster? Why is his photo in here? Is that Steve McGill?"
While looking at the photos of the men he knew, Justin suddenly felt a sick feeling come over him. The last picture he found was of a Private he didn't know but must be from the temporary camp Brandon was on. The name of the Private was 'PFC Gomer W. Pyle' of Camp Henderson.
"I've gone too far. I better put this away." Justin quickly put the photos back into the wallet, suddenly closing it up and placing it back in the drawer when he saw Brandon's journal. "Don't do it...you've seen too much already."
Once again, curiosity took over as Justin quickly grabbed the journal, reading the most explicit entries he'd ever encountered. Not even something like this would be allowed in Playboy or Penthouse magazines. Brandon had written entries of his encounters with these men he had photographed in his wallet and what he had done in detail to Lancaster and McGill."
"He had everyone think McGill was going crazy. McGill wasn't lying; Harris drugged and assaulted him. Oh my God, here I was thinking he was going insane." Justin told himself in horror.
Turning the page, he read a lengthy graphic entry of this Gomer Pyle of Camp Henderson.
"The beautiful Private of Camp Henderson...oh my Lord..." Justin muttered to himself, shocked and horrified that the man he looked up to and wanted to be like having a secret so twisted wasn't even the word to describe the Bostonian Sergeant's thoughts.
Brandon described Gomer as 'the most beautiful man he'd ever seen...those thin, yet kissable lips, those dark brown eyes...how he wished he could take him, how when he got the chance, he would take him even harden than he had the others.' As Justin turned the page, he read another entry of the Private he never met. It explained how Brandon was hurt and angry that the Private rejected him. The one sentence that threw Justin off was, "I don't want to...but I must teach him a lesson in rejecting someone's love. What I did to McGill is nothing compared to how I will take Pyle."
This was too much for him, and the young Private closed the journal, carefully placed it back where it belonged, and closed the drawer. He stood up from the desk when a voice spoke, "Why are you sitting at my desk, Romero?"
The young Private looked up, meeting eyes with Brandon.
"Oh my goodness...Sergeant Harris...I..." Justin stuttered.
"As much as I appreciate that you were playing pretend and sitting at my desk, you know Privates aren't allowed in the duty hut when the Sergeant is out," Brandon spoke authoritatively.
"Yes, of course. S-sorry, Sergeant Harris." Justin chuckled, internally relieved Brandon never caught him looking at his stuff.
"Why do you seem nervous?" Brandon asked, furrowing his brows.
"No reason...you caught me off guard, is all," Justin answered.
As the Bostonian Sergeant was quiet for a few seconds, all he came out with was, "Okay. I believe you. What did you need?"
"Oh...I wanted to let you know I cleaned off all the dried oil on the floor in the mess hall. That was all." The Private said.
"Good. You can head back to your proper quarters, Romero," Brandon said as he walked in and placed his cap on his desk.
"Right...you...you have a goodnight, sir." Justin stuttered.
Brandon knew his men were intimidated by his stern look and blank stares, which gave him a bizarre high. As Justin started walking out, Brandon said, "Romero, you can leave through the back. Not to make it look obvious that a Private was here without supervision."
The nervous Private slowly nodded, "Right...sorry, Sergeant."
The Bostonian Sergeant watched with his eyes as the young man walked around to the back door. As Justin opened the door, Brandon followed up with, "Although I will say one thing, Romero,"
Justin turned around, facing his Sergeant, who was suddenly standing right behind him, "I don't appreciate anyone, let alone Privates, going through my stuff. That isn't polite. But let me ask you something."
"Huh?" Justin spoke.
"Did you enjoy reading my journal?"
The Private looked at his Sergeant with confusion, suddenly realizing that Brandon had watched him the whole time. After asking that question, Brandon struck the young Private over the head as hard as he could with his brass knuckle-covered fist, causing him to fall on the ground, hitting his head on top of a rock. With just one blow across the head, the young Private was dead. Brandon got down to the young man's level as the blood quickly stained the ground, "Did you know I used these back in Korea? It was easy...all I had to do was sneak behind one of those gooks as they weren't expecting it, and bam! No wonder they called me the Butcher of Boston...or the Boston Trigger...eh, I like both names, I can't decide which suits me more,"
The Bostonian Sergeant smirked at Romero, "You know, I would've let you off the hook...but I can't have you running your mouth to Colonel White, Private Romero. You were a good Private; I know how much you dreamed of making it to Sergeant, but you should've just minded your business. Now the only thing I'm pissed off at is that I have to stage this as an accident. Okay, so how did you die...you were carelessly running back to your quarters, only for you to trip and hit your head on a rock, instantly killing you. I think that's cliché...hmm, no, I think that will work out perfectly. No one would suspect anything, not even Colonel White."
After talking with the dead Private, Brandon stood up, set the stage for accidental death, and walked back inside, casually whistling 'Tessie.'
*GC*
Keeping his promise, Carter took Gomer stargazing, but this time, they went to a nearby field with the jeep; this was the same field where they were both on a survival test. At the time, Carter didn't admit it, but Gomer truly impressed him, which made his feelings for him grow even more. The pair were lying on a blanket as they gazed up at the clear night, watching the twinkling of the beautiful stars in the sky.
"Well, glory be, Vince! Look at that star over there!" Gomer pointed up to a star that lit brighter than any flashlight could.
"What is that?" Carter asked.
"I read about it. It's called Arcturus or, accordin' to them, ancient Greek legends, the guardian. Arcturus is the 4th-brightest star in our sky and lies about 34 light-years away from the sun, makin' it slightly older than the sun. It's hard to believe that the sun is that old...but then again, I don't know much about gettin' older."
"Huh...I didn't know that." Carter replied.
"Know what? Gettin' old?" Gomer asked.
"No, about the star." Carter rolled his eyes.
"Oh," Gomer responded. "Did you know that I once had a dog named Arcturus? Grandma Pyle found him as a puppy and took him in, but he only took to me. He was a good boy. It was sad when he got sick, and Grandpa Pyle had to put him down."
"Sorry to hear that," Carter responded. "Where you sad?"
"Nah. I believe he knew it was his time." Gomer smiled. "Besides, I always planted pretty flowers where he's buried."
The two stared at the stars when Carter asked, "So...what got you into star gazin' in the first place?"
Upon hearing this question, the Sergeant noticed Gomer's face going from happy to sour. Did this trigger bad memories? Carter reiterated, "You don't have to answer if you don't..."
"No...I never told anyone why." Gomer began. "Momma used to lock me outside the house when she would have men come over; it was only on cold nights I was chained up in the basement with my best buddy, Maxwell.
"Who?" Carter asked.
"That was the rat that used to come out in the basement. I used to share my crackers and cheese with him. I never knew what happened to Maxwell; one night, he just never came out."
Carter got the idea of what might have happened to Gomer's only companion as a boy, 'The bitch probably poisoned him.'
"But, sometimes, she'd keep me outside for hours. The only thing that would keep me company at night were the stars. I used to stare up at night, watching how the stars would sparkle. It would happen until I fell asleep against a tree. To tell ya the truth, it just only made my curiosity grow. My telescope was my favorite thing, but I need to remember where I last put it. I wish I had it with me when I lived at Wally's."
The Sergeant took in the Private's story, curious to know how someone who went through so much as a child could come out strong.
"What else do you think of when you come out here to stargaze?" Carter asked.
"Lots of things. Such as how Grandpa and Daddy are doin' in Heaven, my friends back in Mayberry, Cousin Goober, Grandma Pyle, the time I saw the little men from space,"
The memory of the men from space, who just turned out to be movie actors, made Carter laugh. He recalled how they communicated with Gomer using the sound of 'beeps.' Gomer continued, "I also think of you and this dream I keep havin'."
"What kind of dream?" Carter asked, running his hands through Gomer's thick dark hair.
"It's of you and me...we're livin' in a nice home in Mayberry with a big tree in the front yard with a tire swing hangin' up. Then there is little younglin's runnin' around the kitchen as I make pancakes in the mornin'. They kept callin' me 'Pa' and you 'Daddy.' You're on the front porch, paintin' as usual. It's our future together in my dreams." Gomer explained, closing his eyes tightly every time Carter massaged his scalp.
"Is that what you want? Because if so, I will look into getting you a tree with a tire swing. Your dreams will come true for sure." Carter joked.
Gomer gave him a wry smile, "Vince, you got that insincere look in your eyes. I can tell when one gets that insincere look."
The Sergeant laughed, continuing, "No, but seriously, is that what you want?"
"Gosh...more than anythin' in the world," Gomer replied.
In response, Carter took Gomer's hand, kissing the top of it. Gomer smiled, following up with, "I don't know who the younglin's are, but all I know is that they was there."
Carter scoffed at Gomer's observation of the children mentioned in his dream.
"Vince, do you know what happened to Sergeant Harris?" The sweet Private asked.
"Huh?" Carter asked.
"Well...a bunch of the fellas got word that he left not too long ago. Sergeant Hacker came back, and to tell ya the truth, I'm happy Sergeant Hacker is back, even though he did try and hurt us."
"Yeah." Carter continued to look up at the sky as he replied with a term his cousin from England would throw out, "My feelings exactly."
"I will miss Sergeant Harris' cookin'...except his fishy soup. But it's great to have Sergeant Hacker's pancakes back."
Carter snickered at Gomer's comments, comparing the cooking of both mess hall Sergeants. Gomer moved closer to Carter, placing his head against his love's chest. In response to Gomer's physical display of affection, Carter wrapped his arm around Gomer, kissing the top of his head. Silence took over, with only the wind blowing in the trees and crickets chirping.
"Vince," Gomer spoke up, "what are you thinking'?"
The Sergeant wanted to tell him what he was truly feeling. As much as they had the setting for a romantic moment, Carter let his pride get the best of him and fought back the urge to say the words on his mind. Instead, he just spoke, "Just how lucky I am, is all."
Gomer eyed Carter, beaming with happiness. He rested his head against his love's chest, taking in the sound of Carter's beating heart. Little did he know what the Sergeant was feeling.
*GC*
As two lovers stargazed among the hills of a Marine base, there was activity at the police headquarters. Detective Annette Hochstetter sat at her desk, still trying to figure out what was the cause of the two deaths that recently took place. First, a young college student, then a waitress...were they or were they not connected? Things seemed off. Her assistant walked into her office, saying, "Miss. Annette, I'm going to head home."
"Oh, okay...thank you, Dwayne." the redhead smiled at her assistant.
Before Dwayne, a middle-aged, dark skin man with graying hair and a friendly smile, turned to walk out of his boss' office, then turned a heel, "You ought to do the same thing. This will be the third night you stayed late solving these cases."
"You have no clue how driven crazy I am." Annette chuckled. "I'm already losing sleep over this."
"Well, hopefully, this guy is caught," Dwayne stated as he sat across his boss' desk.
"On top of that, I have the whole precinct hating me because I was made detective while they are still in the same positions for years and years."
Dwayne felt for his boss. Annette and Dwayne were the outcasts of the precinct, with Annette being German American and Dwayne being black. The two bonded when they met; Annette occasionally looked at Dwayne like a second father. Dwayne looked at Annette, saying, "Miss. Annette, I've worked here for years but never got the respect I deserve from anyone here. I've seen that you are the hardest-working person I've met, woman or not. Please don't listen to anyone here; I don't and never will give them the time of day. They are jealous that you've been given a big promotion and a big case to work on. I know you can do it from what you told me about your parents and how much experience you hold."
Annette smiled at her assistant, appreciating his words, "Thank you, Dwayne. God, I needed that."
Dwayne smiled at her, "Would you like another cup of coffee before I leave?"
"Yes, please," Annette replied. "I'd love that."
"One cup, two sugars and a splash of milk, coming right up!" Dwayne smiled and left Annette's office.
As she rubbed her temples in frustration, Annette realized she had to take a break. Standing up from her desk, she stretched out her arms, and walked over to the window, looking out into the night sky. The case was enough to drive her nuts. All she wanted to do was solve these murders, then call it a day. At that moment, Dwayne walked back into his boss' office, holding a hot cup of coffee.
"Here you go, Miss. Annette." He smiled, placing the cup in front of Detective Hochsetter.
Turning around, Annette grinned, "Thank you, Dwayne. Get home and get some rest."
"Thank you. You have a goodnight, ma'am." Dwayne said with a smile. "Don't forget to do the same."
The Detective smiled at her assistant, giving her a friendly wave of goodbye. Once she was left alone, she sat at her desk, thinking loudly, "There has to be something on this guy...Sergeant Brandon Harris...why can't I get him out of my mind, and not in a good way?"
From her interview, she remembered how defensive Brandon became...almost like he was hiding something. This was driving her crazy. She clutched the heart-shaped locket she had been wearing tightly, suddenly remembering when she was given the locket one Christmas. Annette smiled at the memory and eyed a framed photo of her parents on her desk. An enormous smile came to her lips when she remembered the man who took her in and married the woman she called 'mama.' All three of them lived in a prisoner-of-war camp in 1943. Anette recalled how her adoptive father was a Major in the Gestapo while her adoptive mother was a homicide detective in the United States. The two fell madly in love, eventually passing down the police trait to her. They both took her in after her birth mother's death, which they investigated. She stared at the photo; she whispered, "How I wish you guys were here to help me solve this case."
With a smile on her lips, Annette reached over and picked up the phone.
"I hope I'm not waking them up." She said to herself.
A large smile came to her lips when she heard her mother's voice, "Hello?"
"Hallo, mama."
At the end of the line was the woman that she called mama. Leanne's, the name of her mother, the smile widened as she heard her daughter's voice, "Hello, Kitten."
Annette closed her eyes and sighed, "Mama, I'm 29 years old now; you don't have to call me that."
On the other end of the line, Leanne smiled wide, "My dear girl, no matter how old you get… you will always be your father's and mine's little kitten. Remember, you got that nickname the same way your cousin did. You would follow your father and me anywhere in the stalag or his office. Besides, some of the men still call Mary 'kitten.'"
She laughed lightly. Leanne looked up at the door to their bedroom as her husband, Wolfgang, walked in. He looked at her and pointed the finger at the phone. Leanne smiled and mouthed out that she was talking to their daughter. Her husband of 25 years walked over to her, asking in concern, "Stimmt etwas nicht mit unserem kleinen Kätzchen?"
Leanne looked over at the phone when she heard their daughter answer her father's question, "No, tell papa that I'm alright… I'm just having a hard time with this case, is all." She told her mother.
"What is the case about?" asked Leanne.
Her husband raised a brow at his wife's question. "She's having a hard time?"
He watched his wife nod her head. As Annette started to speak, her father walked over to sit next to her mother and to hear what was being said, "Ja, I am. There have been two murders here. The first was a young college student from Weston, Massachusetts, who was found beaten to death. His body was left in a dumpster downtown where I work. The condition of his injuries didn't look like from an ordinary mugging but from brass knuckles; that's how bad of a shape this young man was in. The second one was a waitress in a popular diner in the city. Her death was staged as a suicide, but it's clear to me someone murdered her. I mean, two deaths in the same city; I'm starting to go crazy here, and I don't know what to do because I don't have a lead."
After their daughter finished telling them the details of the murders, Leanne looked over toward her husband.
"What do you think, Wolfgang?" She asked him.
"That does sound like a hard one…who did you question about the murders?" Her father asked her as her mother turned the phone for them both to hear their daughter's words.
"Well, I talked to a couple of the men on a Marine base, but there was one that stood out the most to me; his name was Sergeant Brandon Harris…or as Uncle Robert would call, an 'arrogant asshole.'"
When his daughter said this, Wolfgang smiled and held in his laugh.
'Robert would call him that.' He thought to himself.
Pushing his laugh away, Wolfgang asked the young woman he had taken in when she was only a child, "What did they say?"
"Well, the Private I spoke to said that Jenny, the waitress's name, had a crush on this Harris guy… I don't know why...just looking at the man made me want to punch him in the throat."
Leanne looked over when she felt her husband's eyes on her. She narrowed her eyes at him and told him, "Don't...say...it."
"Hmm, that's something you would do."
With a loud sigh and an eye roll, Leanne resumed speaking to her daughter, "What did this ass Harris say about her or the college kid?"
Annette laid back in her chair and sighed deeply, "He didn't tell me much about the kid but said that Jenny took her own life because she was overly emotional about her rejecting him."
Both her mother and father looked at each other with raised brows.
"Did this Jenny try anything like this in the past?" Her father asked her.
"Not that I know of…in all actuality, I don't want to. I feel that this ass Harris has something to do with both of these murders, but I don't know. That's why I called you two. You two would know…you both have more experience with this than I do…I mean, you both were in Scotland Yard for a reason."
A grin grew on Annette's lips when she quickly remembered her parents being asked to be in the Scotland Yard Police. Over the other line, her parents beamed at this recollection as Leanne began to ask, "That is very much so true we were, but, Kitten, what does your gut tell you about this Harris?"
Annette leaned forward in her chair and thought about what her mother had asked her, "Well, I think that this Harris guy has something to do with both of the murders."
"Well then, mein kleines kätzchen, follow your gut. If your mother and I didn't do that, we wouldn't have found who killed your birth mother back in Germany."
Annette smiled sadly as her father spoke, wiping a tear from her eyes; Annette said, "You're right, Vater. I will follow my gut on this, and I will. Plus, I need to pin this Harris to the wall."
"Just be careful, Kitten. A dog will bite when it's cornered." warned her mother.
"I will be Mutter. On a much lighter note, what are you two going to be up to today?" She asked, having not been able to talk to her mother and father for a long time; after all, they lived in England.
*GC*
Three days flew by, and things on Camp Henderson were going accordingly. The men of all platoons were committed to their day-to-day duties, scheduled hikes, and physical training. Half of Carter's platoon had just finished digging, while the other half had assignments on the other side of the base. A sore Duke and Gavin stretched their arms out as Gavin complained, "Man...I thought digging ditches would be easy over time."
"They never will be, Gavin. You'll learn that when you keep going." Duke stated to the much younger Private.
"What he said. Try being here four years in." Frankie chimed in.
Gomer was puffing his inhaler when Duke asked, "You doing okay, pal?"
The sweet Private nodded, taking the puffer out of his mouth, while still keeping an upbeat attitude, "Yeah, Duke. Just tryin' to get my breathin' in order. Golly gee, can you picture havin' asthma and not knowin' of it until later in life?"
"Yeah..." was all Duke said. "You need me to help open up your airwaves?"
"Maybe..." answered Gomer, putting the inhaler back in his mouth.
The goofy Private sat beside his friend, rubbing his back. Once Gomer's got his breathing under control, he turned to Duke, asking, "Hey, Duke, do you want to grab coleslaw in the mess hall?"
"Can't today, pal. Boyle and I are plannin' to surprise our ladies." Duke answered.
"Golly...you two have gotten close," Gomer said happily.
"Not on purpose, which in all honesty, is your fault, Gomer. Had you and Carter not gotten stuck in that food bunker, we wouldn't have run out there, get you two out, then made a bet on your two. Now, me and Boyle are friends, and our women are attached to the hip."
"Oh, Duke..." Gomer replied, shaking his head with a smile.
"Can I raincheck on the coleslaw, though?" Duke asked.
"Of course, good buddy," Gomer replied with a smile.
"Thanks, Gome. Before I forget, I was assigned to pull guard duty tonight, and Alana wanted to go out. Can you please take her out for me? She likes the picture show and red velvet cake." Duke asked.
The last time Duke asked him for a favor like this was when his ex-girlfriend flew in a day early from Phoenix for an open house dance.
"I don't see why not? I don't have rehearsal tonight, and I was plannin' on seein' that new Doris Day picture. I'd be glad to take her out, " Gomer said as a grin appeared.
"Thanks, pal." Duke patted Gomer on the shoulder.
"Hey, that dame detective is back," Gavin called over to the men. "Boy, she's a smoke show."
After mentioning that information, all the men stood at the doorway, watching her. Perez muttered to the others, "Qué hermosa mujer."
"What you said, pal, and I don't even know what you said." Frankie chuckled.
"Boy...if more detectives looked like that, then I wouldn't mind being taken in." Gavin stated, turning to Duke, "Duke, you gonna come look?"
"Sorry, pal. I got my ball and chain working in the infirmary already." Duke replied, making Gomer smile.
"Gosh, Duke, it sure ain't like you to turn down a pretty lady, but I'm happy you won't disrespect Miss Alana like that." Gomer was proud of how far his friend came along regarding women.
"I love her, Gomer, and no other lady will ever have my attention again. Not even this lady detective." Duke answered. "Speaking of which, I wonder why she's here again."
"Beats me. But I'm headin' to the showers." Gomer informed his friend.
"Wait up. I'm coming with you. I need to grab my razor and soap." Duke informed Gomer.
Detective Hoschetter turned to face the men, catching them ogling her. The group of men in Company B quickly ran away from the door and windows. The lovely Detective rolled her eyes and kept walking until she reached the duty hut.
Gomer noticed how all the men ran away from the door frame, embarrassed the attractive Detective caught onto them, "That's what y'all get for ogglin' Detective Hochstetter. She's a lady and a real nice one at that."
Gavin looked up at Gomer, spitting out, "Thanks, buddy..."
"You're welcome, Gavin. Just tryin' to help." The sweet Private gave a smile, ignoring the fact his friend rolled his eyes.
Meanwhile, Carter and Boyle sat at their desks in the duty hut when Detective Hochstetter knocked on the door, catching the men off guard.
"Why, Detective Hochstetter, nice to see you again." said Carter as he greeted her.
"Likewise, Sergeant Carter. Is this a bad time?" asked Annette.
Carter and Boyle exchanged looks, "No...we weren't doin' anything. Come in. Boyle, would you mind givin' us space?"
"Not at all, Serge. I'll let Slater know to meet me at the PX." Boyle responded.
The Corporal stood up from his seat and placed his cap on his head before heading out. He nodded a friendly 'hello' to the lady detective before shutting the door behind him. Once they were alone, Annette walked over to Carter's desk.
"What can I do you for, Annette?" Carter started.
Annette smirked, "Well, good to see you too, Vince."
Carter snickered, "Sorry...I like busting your chops."
"Wow, you haven't changed at all… well, you're taller. Almost as tall as Vater," Annette teased as she grabbed a chair and took a seat across Carter's desk.
The Sergeant shrugged his shoulder, propping his feet on the desk.
"And you still haven't grown very much since then. You did grow into that locket, but other than that, you still haven't grown much." He said with a smile, then chuckled as the young woman made a face at him. "But anyway, on a serious note, I take it you got something on this case, which is why I assume you are here?" He asked her with more of a more serious tone in his voice.
"Relatively. Just wanted to say hello before we conducted business." Annette told the Sergeant.
"By all means, let's conduct business," Carter smirked at the redhead.
"For starters, you can tell your men to stop drooling over me." Annette joked, making Carter laugh.
"Well, you'd have to forgive them; they came to me as horny as they come," Carter smirked.
Annette rolled her eyes and continued, "Danke Schoen. Secondly, I just had a few more questions regarding my first suspect. Hopefully, you can answer them."
*GC*
The late morning turned into the afternoon's early hours; Alana and Katie decided to grab lunch in the mess hall. As they took their seat, Katie finally opened up to Alana regarding her pregnancy.
"Oh...oh my gosh...how did it happen...well, of course, I know how it happened, but...how do you feel?" a concerned Alana asked her friend.
"To be blunt, morning sickness is killing me." Katie looked down at her coleslaw, mixing the contents with her fork.
Alana didn't bother responding to that statement. The Philadelphia beauty looked into Alana's green eyes, searching for any twinge of judgment from her friend. Thankfully, she didn't find any.
"You know," Alana spoke as she stirred her soup, "Both Gilbert and I felt you were with child, but we didn't want to say anything."
"Well," Katie replied, "I guess I feel better knowing what was wrong with me in the first place. It's funny when I was growing up in South Philadelphia, my grandmother made coleslaw when I was a little girl, and the sight of it made me sick. I guess the baby can't get enough of it. I never thought I could get into this situation: not just carrying a man's baby, a white man's. Why did I have to go and fall for Chuck?"
"Katie, you can't help who you fall in love with." Alana reasoned. "Chuck loves you; I can see how he looks at you and always kisses your hand."
The Philadelphia beauty said nothing in response as she continued to stir her food. The New York beauty gave her friend a sympathetic look, "Speaking of Chuck, did you tell him yet?"
"Not yet. I don't even know how to tell him." Katie replied.
"You're going to have to say something right away, Katie," Alana stated. "You can only keep something like this a secret for so long, especially when you start showing. Trust me; my sister-in-law, Abigail, tried hiding her pregnancy from my brother for a few weeks. Eventually, he started to notice a difference in her behavior. Thankfully, Nathaniel was so understanding and was determined to give Abby and their child the life they deserved. In secret, they met with the priest at our church in Long Island and eloped. Boy, was that a mess."
"How so?" Katie was suddenly interested in this story.
"My mother was upset that she didn't get to plan their wedding, and them not telling anyone they were even married until two weeks after they got married. My father was calm about it, but that doesn't mean he wasn't happy either. Long story short, they now live outside Cincinnati, happy as they could be."
Katie chuckled at Alana's story, then spoke up, "Speaking of showing, do I look noticeable yet?"
Alana glanced at her friend, saying, "Nothing is apparent until you mention you're pregnant. To be forthright, however, your belly is starting to grow slowly, in a good way. I've always found pregnancy to be alluring."
The Philadelphia beauty scoffed, "It makes me feel a little better knowing the dress I will be wearing is loose around the stomach area."
"Don't stress yourself out so much, Katie," Alana reassured her. "Besides, stress will make it hard on both you and the baby."
Katie took a small bite of her coleslaw when Alana spoke again, "Would you like me to come with you when..."
"No, Alana. Thank you, though." Katie said. "I appreciate it, but I have to tell Chuck alone."
"I understand." Alana took Katie's hand, squeezing it. "I'm here if you need me. Say, if you don't mind me asking...how did you and Chuck meet?"
Katie took a bite of her salad, swallowed, and spoke, "The night I met Chuck was when I was working the late shift. Gomer was admitted for being stuck in a food bunker with Sergeant Carter; he had almost died that night."
"Gilbert informed me." Alana softly stated. "How horrid."
"It truly was. Thankfully he was okay. I remember being introduced to the men by the previous doctor that worked in the infirmary, which is how I met Chuck. I don't think I've ever seen a man forget his name or how to speak."
Alana laughed at Katie, clarifying how she and Boyle met, "You're kidding me?"
Katie sighed and continued, "Those blue eyes had me blushing for three hours. Flash forward, Sergeant Carter was admitted for an allergic reaction, and I immediately jumped at the chance to tend to Sergeant Carter because that way, I was sure I'd see Chuck for sure."
"That's very calculating of you...but I mean that nicely because it's also quite romantic." Alana stated.
The Philadelphia beauty smiled at her friend. Alana took another bite of salad and swallowed before she said, "I'm enthralled for you, Katie. I hope it's a girl so I can buy her the most beautiful dresses and shoes at Gimbles and Bloomingdales. Florence Eiseman had come out with the most adorable line of baby clothes I've ever seen this season."
Katie giggled, "You seem more prepared for whoever this is going to be."
The New York beauty smiled at her friend, "If it makes you feel better...I haven't told Gilbert my secret yet."
"You still haven't told him who your father is?" Katie asked, surprised at Alana.
"How could I? Every time I tell any suitor of mine who my family is and where I come from, all they do is up and leave, saying they can't handle the fact my family comes from money, or worse, how they can't afford me. They've never given me a chance to explain what my father had to do and how much he had to struggle to get to where he is, and how despite all that, he's still the most humble man I've ever met. I love Gilbert, so why scare him off? It wouldn't be fair." Alana answered, reluctance filling her voice.
"Al, you aren't being fair to yourself," Katie stated. "What exactly does he know?"
"He knows my father has a job requiring my family to move around, and I've lived in Cuba for four years and West Germany for two," Alana spoke.
"All I can say is that if Duke loves you, which I know he does because, according to Chuck, you're all he talks about, he will be fine knowing where you come from." Katie placed her hand on top of Alana's.
The New York beauty took in a breath, "I remember how Gilbert walked into the children's hospital; he came in after someone broke his nose, and since we were the closest hospital, we treated his medical needs right away. How he held it in as the doctor tried to put his nose back into place was hilarious; he tried so hard not to scream because I was in the room."
This made Katie laugh, just picturing Duke Slater in pain, but despite it all, he didn't want to show the woman he found beautiful that he had a low pain tolerance. Alana continued, "You have no idea how much I love him, Katie. He isn't like the other suiters I've gone with. Yes, I know he's the furthest thing from Rock Hudson or Gregory Peck, and we occasionally bicker over small things, but I truly do love him. I don't want to lose him, especially to something like this."
Katie squeezed her friend's hand, "I know you love him. When were you thinking of telling him?"
Alana rubbed her temples, "I'm not sure; maybe over Thanksgiving. It will be enough time to build up what I have to say."
"I was going to suggest sooner, but if that's what you feel comfortable with," Katie said in response. "Well...at least we can shamelessly admit our secrets to one another."
Alana watched as her friend rubbed her tummy, smiling. She placed her free hand over her friend's, saying, "Hey, I'm delighted Gilbert and I ran into you and Chuck at the Jade Club. I wouldn't have found such a good friend if we hadn't met, freundin."
Katie smiled back, taking Alana's hand and squeezing it tightly, "I appreciate your friendship, Alana."
The next sound the girls heard was someone clearing their throat. They turned to find Duke and Boyle making their way towards their table, each sitting next to their partner, placing their food trays down.
"Did we just hear two of the most beautiful ladies in the world say our names?" Duke teased, taking a seat next to Alana and kissing her soft cheek.
The New York beauty giggled at Duke's lips meeting her soft cheek, "Hello, libchen."
"So...what's new, twarz anioła?" Boyle asked, placing his hand over Katie's.
"Oh...you know, darling. Same old, same old." Katie chuckled.
Even though she was happy to see the handsome Corporal, Katie couldn't help but have a nervous pit in her stomach.
"Sounds like our platoon. Right, Slater?" Boyle chimed in.
"Just about right." Duke chuckled, making all four of them laugh.
"You ladies ready for the big party?" Duke followed up his statement with a question.
"Almost, libechen. I was going to stop at Gimbles tomorrow to pick out a pair of earrings. Katie, would you like to accompany me?" Alana asked her friend.
"Well...I do have the day off, so why not?" Katie replied. "Plus, I could use a break from 5 AM shifts and take myself on a little shopping trip."
"5 AM? Boy, that's when we're ready to go." Duke shuddered.
"Wait till you make it to Corporal, Slater, then we'll talk. You Privates have it easy." Boyle spoke, causing Duke to make a face at him.
Before Duke forgot, he turned to Alana, "Oh, baby doll, I can't go out tonight. I'm pulling guard duty. I just found out this morning, and Serge is a little fussy when it come to Privates switching their duties on the other men."
"Oh no." Alana looked at Duke, disappointed he had to cancel. "I was looking forward to spending time with you."
"But I asked Gomer to take you out. He said it wasn't an issue." Duke informed her.
Alana turned to Katie and back to Duke, saying, "Well...I'm sure we'll have a good time. Thanks for letting me know. Just make it up to me?"
"Always," Duke replied, kissing Alana.
Boyle smirked at the two, then turned to Katie, saying, "How do you feel, my love?"
"Fine, thank you. Uh...Chuck, can we talk at my place tonight, at about 7 PM? If you can't get liberty..." Boyle cut off Katie.
"I can talk to Vince. Why is something wrong?" Boyle asked, eyeing Duke, who looked concerned as well.
"Uh..." Katie eyed Alana, who nodded her head, "Yes, love. I need to talk. I'd rather it be alone."
The Corporal eyed Duke, who furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, then replied, "O...okay...we'll talk."
"Thank you, sweetheart." Katie kissed Boyle on the cheek.
"Of course." Boyle kissed her hand.
Katie looked over at Alana, who smiled in return. Duke took a tomato off Alana's salad when the New Yorker cried out, "Gilbert!"
"What? You always take food off my dish whenever we're out. It's only fair." Duke joked.
Alana glared at Duke, making their friends laugh in response.
*GC*
Gomer sat on his bunk, reading an astronomy book he picked up at the library. While flipping to the next page, something caught his eye, "Gooooolly..."
"What's going on, Gome?" Perez asked as he polished his shoes.
"Millions of stars explode every day. Did you know that, Robert?" Gomer asked.
"No, didn't know that, amigo." Perez chuckled.
"To think, somethin' so beautiful would just go and blow up every day," Gomer stated.
"I don't know, buddy. Did you find your shooting star yet?" Perez asked with a small smirk.
"Not yet, sadly. But you know, I'll never give up until I find that shootin' star. No, sir! I won't ever give up!" a determined Gomer spoke up.
Perez looked at Gomer, smirking at him.
"Attention!" A private yelled.
As the men got into attention, Carter said, "As you men were. Pyle, could you come with me? The Detective wants to speak to you."
"Yes, sir." Gomer put his magazine down.
The two walked off when Frankie asked Perez, "I don't get it...why does he still have to address him as sir, knowing they are goin' together?"
"Beats me." Perez shrugged.
As the Private and Sergeant walked to the duty hut, Gomer turned to his love, "What's goin' on?"
"Detective Hochstetter needs to ask you questions. I told her I'm not goin' anywhere." Carter told Gomer, letting him know that no matter what, he wouldn't leave his side.
Once they walked inside the duty hut, Annette stood up, watching Gomer remove his cap, "Good afternoon, ma'am."
"Please, take a seat, Gomer. I just had a couple of more questions to ask." Annette smiled.
Carter motioned for Gomer to take a seat at his desk. Annette opened her notepad as the sweet Private sat down and spoke, "You okay, Gomer?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Please, you can call me Annette."
"How about Kitten?" asked Carter with a smirk.
Annette glanced over toward him with narrowed eyes. Carter, still smirking, spoke in a defensive voice, "What? That's what your parents call you."
Looking back at the Private when he spoke. "Do you two know each other?"
Annette sighed, then replied, "Yes, we do. We just so happened to grow up together. Isn't that right, Sergeant?"
"Eh...in a way. You were in England for a good long while before you came here," stated Carter, placing his arm around the Detective.
Annette nodded as she held Carter's hand that he had placed on her shoulder, "True, but we did meet off and on over the years."
Gomer tilted his head and looked at his love. When Gomer looked back toward Annette, she smiled at him again, then said, "First of all, I just wanted to apologize for coming off a little hostile towards you the first time we met."
"I don't take nothin' personal, ma'am," Gomer said sweetly to the Detective.
"You are too sweet for your good," Annette stated, making Gomer blush. "I just have to ask you more questions, if you okay with that?"
"Yes, ma'am," Gomer replied.
The Sergeant removed his arm from the Detective. Annette eyed Gomer as she began to speak, "So, Gomer...would you say you have a lot of friends on the base?"
"Well, I have quite a few. There are some that I'm startin' to learn who were never really friends, to begin with. That comes with realizin' which folks is good and who ain't. I don't mean no disrespect, but I'm sure you would know that, bein' a detective and all." The sweet Private spoke.
"I don't take any disrespect." Annette chuckled.
Gomer faced Carter, who gave him a small but reassuring smile and a wink.
"Well, to tell you the truth, the last thing I want to be is disrespectful." Gomer smiled. "But can I ask somethin'?"
"Anything. What's on your mind?" Annette asked.
"I get the feelin' that you are here to ask me about Sergeant Harris," Gomer stated.
Annette looked at Carter, taken aback, then back at Gomer, "How did you know that?"
"I don't know. I just got the feelin'." Gomer shrugged.
"Well, you are smarter than most give you credit for." Annette chuckled.
"He truly is," Carter told Annette, almost gushing.
The sweet Private shook his head, muttering, "Golly..."
"Gomer, when was the last encounter with Sergeant Harris?" asked the lovely Detective.
Thinking for a few seconds, Gomer answered, "It was about a couple of weeks ago. He came into the rehearsal hall as I was pickin' up my music, then he got mad that I rejected his feelins towards me. I told him I had already got myself a sweetheart. At first, he seemed fine with it, but when I saw him, he wasn't."
"Did he try something on you?" Annette asked.
"He did kiss me, but I pulled away. I didn't want to be disrespectful to my sweetheart." Gomer answered Annette as he glanced over at Carter. "I won't lie; he did scare me. He never used to; I thought he was a nice enough fella…until that. But, if you don't mind me askin', Miss Hochstetter, what does your investigation have to do with Sergeant Harris?"
Taking a breath, Annette spoke to the sweet Private, "I can't say, but...all I can tell you is that I might have a lead."
"Oh...right..." Gomer answered.
"Gomer, I wanted to thank you for your cooperation. Vince has told me about you, and all I can say is that he's failed to tell me what a loyal and passionate individual you are."
"Golly, thank you, Miss H..."
"Annette. Please." Annette chuckled.
"Oh, right...Annette." Gomer blushed, smiling an adorable smile.
Carter and Annette exchanged smirks.
"Am I good to go?" Gomer asked.
"Yes. You're good." Carter responded.
The sweet Private walked out, placing his cap on his head.
Annette turned to Carter, "He's adorable. I'm somewhat surprised that you've switched over to men. However, it's done wonders for your temper and anxiety, that's for sure."
"Just a word of advice...don't address me as 'Vince' in front of my men. I'm still his Sergeant, and while in the presence of civilians, you will address me as 'Sergeant.'" Carter stated in a snarky voice.
"My apologies...Sergeant." Annette answered with sarcasm, smirking at the Sergeant glaring at her. "Well, I guess business is conducted for today. I best be heading back before my assistant, Dwayne, wonders about my whereabouts. I'll be sure to tell Mutter and Vater you say hello."
Annette patted Carter on the cheek, picked up her purse and briefcase, and was about to leave.
"Wait," Carter said as he grabbed her arm to stop her from leaving. "Before you go, I wanted to show you this."
The Detective narrowed her brows as Carter walked to his desk and pulled out a bunch of newspapers from the bottom of his desk drawer. Annette raised one of her brows as she asked him, "Why are you giving me newspapers?"
"This might just help with your case," Carter mentioned. "Boyle told me to stop obsessing over it, so I hid them from him and would look at it when he wasn't around. I thought you might want to look at it; it could help you. I even circled which stories could be relevant to your case. And, just a heads up, to help you even further, you might want to give Camp Hamilton a call too."
Annette smiled, saying, "Well...all I'm going to say is that I'll do anything to help my favorite cousin and his sweetheart."
*GC*
7 PM came, and all Katie did was sit on her couch, nervous. She drank a cup of peppermint tea because, according to a book she read, it was highly recommended for early pregnancy; she started rubbing her belly without realizing so. Just then, there was a sound at the door. It was Boyle! Katie placed the tea on a coaster and walked to the door. As she opened it, she met eyes with her handsome Corporal. His blue eyes lit up whenever he saw her.
"Hi!" He greeted her as he kissed her on the cheek.
"Come on in," Katie requested.
"Okay." Boyle was somewhat nervous about what Katie was about to drop on him. "You alright?"
"I need to talk, is all. Please sit on the couch. Would you like water?"
"Yes, please?" Boyle asked, feeling his mouth go dry.
Katie took out two glasses from her cabinet and placed them on the counter, then walked over to her refrigerator to take out a pitcher of water and pour it into the glasses. Boyle's eyebrows furrowed, "You okay? I won't lie; you're making me anxious."
The Philadelphia beauty didn't answer him except walk over to the couch, placing the glasses of water on a coaster. As Boyle sipped his drink, he put it back on the coaster and said, "Now, what is it you wanted to tell me? The suspense is killing me."
Katie then took a sip of water before speaking, "I got my results from Dr. Kreziler. He figured out why I was feeling tired and nauseous and suddenly eating foods I wouldn't normally eat."
"Okay...what did he say?" Boyle asked, the anticipation starting to make him impatient.
Trying to hold it together, Katie blurted out, "Chuck, there isn't any easy way to say this, so I'm just going to say it...I'm pregnant."
Boyle looked at Katie, a mixture of surprise and disbelief written on his face. His lady just told him she was pregnant. He felt his heart beating faster than it ever had been. Silence filled the air, tears suddenly forming in Katie's eyes while Boyle covered his face in his hands. Finally, he spoke, "Does anyone else know?"
"Just Alana...and I assume Duke now since they both assumed I was with child. I hadn't told anyone else." Katie answered. "Then again, how could I? What would people say about a black woman carrying a white man's baby?"
All the Corporal could do was place his hands over his mouth and shake his leg, taking in what he was just told; the woman he loved was carrying his child, and they weren't married. Katie took his blank expression as a bad thing and started to panic, "Chuck, please don't be mad. I'm scared, and I need you more than ever..."
"Hey." Boyle suddenly broke out of his demeanor and took her into his arms, making a 'shh' sound with his lips. "It'll be okay, baby."
"What are we going to do?" Katie cried in Boyle's arms.
"We'll figure it out. Don't worry." Boyle kissed the top of Katie's head, rubbing her back. "It'll all work itself out."
"How? Do you know what people will say? Have you ever heard the words people use when we are out together?"
"We'll ignore them. I don't and haven't listened to what anyone says; they don't matter." The Corporal coaxed the Nurse, putting one arm around her shoulder while he held her hand. "Listen, we'll get through this, okay? A baby isn't anything you and I can't handle. I already deal with many big babies in my platoon."
Katie laughed through her tears and nodded as Boyle kissed her forehead. He glanced at her midsection, "So...there's truly a baby growing in there?"
"Apparently." Katie laughed through tears.
The Corporal placed his hand over the Nurse's stomach, smiling, "Incredible. You think it'll be a boy or a girl?"
"I'm not sure, and to be truthful, I don't care. I want whoever this may be to be healthy." Katie smiled at her love.
"Well, I'll say this...if it's a little girl, she'll be as beautiful as her mother. That's all I know." Boyle said, making Katie smile.
The Nurse was relieved that Boyle was more than relieved about the news; hell, he seemed rather excited about the surprise. His comment made it seem like he was set on having a girl. Boyle continued, "Here, you had me thinking something was wrong."
"Yes," Katie chuckled, "I guess you can say thank goodness it wasn't anything too serious."
Boyle smiled, "We're going to get through this."
Once again, Katie smiled through tears. Boyle stood up, helped Katie to her feet, cupping her face into his hands, and deeply kissed her lips. Suddenly, the mood was ruined by Katie's nausea kicking in. She gently pushed Boyle out of the way, making her way into the bathroom and throwing up. She feared this might scare Boyle off, but to her surprise, the Corporal got down on his knees, holding her hair back, instructing her through her sickness. Once she got all the contents out of her system, the Philadelphia beauty sat on the bathroom floor, her back against the Corporal's front, as he wrapped one arm around her waist and his free hand wiping the sweat away from her forehead with a nearby rag while she panted in and out. Katie turned to face Boyle, teary-eyed from being sick, "Sorry...please don't let this change your mind about me."
"Honey, if I'm still here, clearly it hasn't." Boyle snickered, reminding her he still thought she was beautiful, never mind that she had vomited.
The Corporal helped the Nurse to her feet, assisting her in rinsing her mouth.
"Now, let's get you on the couch, and I'll make you dinner."
"You can cook?" Katie joked.
"You'll be surprised what I can do," Boyle replied, adding a small giggle.
Boyle carried Katie in his arms, bridal style, into the living room. He placed her on the couch, placing a pillow under her feet and another against her back.
"You comfortable?" He asked her.
"How can I not be?" Katie giggled.
The Corporal kissed her forehead, then made his way into her tiny kitchen, looking for something to make her. That moment made Katie realize how much more she had fallen in love with Boyle.
*GC*
Gomer and Alana walked out of the theater. The sweet Private turned to the New York beauty, "Boy, that Doris Day is somethin'."
"She certainly is." Alana chuckled. "Hey, would you like to get dessert? I wanted to talk to you about something."
"Why, sure, Miss Alana. I did tell Duke I would take you out." Gomer responded.
The New York beauty smiled at her friend, walking arm in arm with him when they got to a bake shop. As they walked in, they walked over to the counter, where Alana ordered them each ordered a slice of chocolate cake, red velvet cake, and two cups of coffee before settling into a nearby window seat.
"Gosh, Miss Alana, you didn't have to pay for me." a reluctant Gomer spoke.
"Gomer, you took care of the movie, so let me take care of dessert." Alana smiled.
"Well, I appreciate the gesture. So, thank you, thank you, thank you!" an ecstatic Gomer replied.
The enthusiasm only made the New York beauty chortle. A server placed the two slices of cake on the table, followed by their cups of warm coffee.
"Thank you." Gomer thanked the server.
Alana gave a friendly smile. The two friends bit into their desserts when Gomer cried, "Mmm, mmm...this cake is as good as Grandma Pyle's!"
"Gilbert tells me you bake a piquant chocolate cake," Alana spoke.
"You have to excuse me, Miss Alana, but I do quite get frazzled with them fancy words you use. Don't get me wrong, I like how you speak, but I'm not quite sure what some of them mean..." Gomer confessed, almost embarrassed.
"I apologize, Gomer. Sometimes I forget where I am..." Alana admitted, feeling bad. "But, as I was saying, he tells me you made quite the chocolate cake for your sweetheart's birthday?"
"Well, Grandma Pyle and I always made desserts, which were quite delicious, if that's what you mean?" Gomer answered.
"I hope I can try something of yours. As Gilbert put it, 'you haven't lived until you've eaten Gomer's cake.'" Alana gloated, making her friend flush.
"Oh, Miss Alana." was all Gomer muttered.
"I'm serious! He even said you once made Sergeant Carter a delicious omelet for breakfast. Have you thought of opening a restaurant as you return to civilian life?" asked Alana.
"I don't know. Cousin Goober and me planned on openin' up our fillin' station in Mayberry. That was always the plan, and I don't break no promises." Gomer explained.
The New Yorker smiled as she took a bite of her red velvet cake, "Speaking of civilian life, Gilbert told me he wanted to pursue a comedy career when he decides to retire from the Marines."
"I keep tellin' him he should. He does the best impressions in the barracks. You should've seen him take off on Vince; why he almost sounds like him."
The New York beauty let out a giggle. When the sweet Private sipped his coffee, he suddenly remembered, "Say, you wanted to tell me somethin'?"
"Oh...yes...um...you and Katie are the only two I have told. You have to promise me not to tell anyone else, especially Gilbert." Alana started.
"Well, golly, Miss Alana, anythin' you have to say to me, you can promise that I won't tell a single soul," Gomer reassured her.
"Okay." before speaking, Alana took a sip of her coffee. "For starters, are you familiar with the name Walter Frasier?"
"Why yes!" an ecstatic Gomer replied. "Wally got most of his fuel and oil from his company, Frasier and Co."
"Remember when I told you my last name?" Alana asked.
It took Gomer a second to process what Alana was trying to say when it dawned on him, "Shazam...that means..."
"Walter Frasier is my father. I come from money. My family lives in South Hampton. Despite it all, my father is the most humble man I've ever known. Hell, I remember him helping someone fix their car while still dressed in his three-piece Dior suit; daddy is blue-collar at heart, which I find admirable. The only reason I left home was because my mother, the 'wanna-be socialite,' and I butted heads over my wanting to pursue a career in nursing while she wanted me to become a housewife. She set my sister, Jaclyn, up with the son of a family friend while we lived in Cuba. Shortly, they were married. I don't think she or her husband are happy in their marriage."
All the sweet Private could do was make a sad face. Alana continued, "I haven't told Gilbert any of this yet because anytime I have a suitor and they find out where I come from, it just seems to scare them off, and I love Gilbert but don't know how even to tell him."
The sweet Private took in what Alana told him. All that came out of his mouth was, "Shazam..."
"Is that a bad shazam or a good shazam? Because I..."
"Oh no, Miss Alana! I don't mean that in a bad way! If you are scared I was goin' to think of you different, I could never. You are still the same person as how I met you." Gomer explained. "But, golly...you have to tell Duke the truth. For so long, I can only keep a secret like this, and Duke is my good buddy."
"I know. That's why I wanted to tell you and Katie first." Alana explained. "I wanted to tell him close to Thanksgiving."
"Well..." Gomer started, "I say that's enough time to tell him."
Smiling, the New York beauty took Gomer's hand and squeezed it tightly, "I appreciate you agreeing to keep it a secret."
"Of course, Miss Alana! That's what friends do!" Gomer smiled at his friend.
She gave the Private a sweet smile and let go of his hand. The two continued eating their cake when Alana looked up at Gomer, "I could be wrong, but...you look like you might have something to tell me."
"Oh...well...it ain't a big deal, really." a bashful Gomer answered.
"Gomer," started Alana, "I won't tell a soul. What's going on with you?"
Nervous, Gomer put his fork down and spoke, "Well, it's about Vince. It ain't bad, but I just wanted to talk to someone about it."
"Feel free to tell me." Alana leaned into her friend.
"You know how you are plannin' to tell Duke your secret on Thanksgivin'?"
*GC*
Camp Hamilton, NY
Three days before the General's birthday party
"Sergeant Brandon Harris, reporting as ordered." Brandon stood before his commanding officer.
"At ease, Sergeant Harris." Colonel White spoke.
Brandon adjusted his position as Colonel White began to speak, "Sergeant Harris, I never got a chance to ask, how were things at Camp Henderson while you were on your temporary duties?"
"Well...they went accordingly, sir. Things went better than accordingly." Brandon explained.
"Oh yeah? And you got on with the other Sergeants? No troubles whatsoever?" Colonel White asked.
"No troubles whatsoever, sir," Brandon answered, looking his higher up in the eye.
"Sergeant, I brought you here because your platoon has three deaths. Corporal Lancaster, Private McGill, and now, Private Romero." Colonel White spoke.
"And every one of them were sudden. I can't begin to express my grief." Brandon spoke to his Colonel.
"The ironic part of it all is that every one of them...well, they all happened to take place when you were present in one way or another." Colonel White spoke.
"I don't follow," Brandon stated.
"Sergeant Harris," Colonel White spoke, "I remember Private McGill coming to me, allegedly stating that something went on between the two of you, pinning you as the aggressor. I didn't take his word for it, only because I found the idea of you ever doing anything in that sort of nature to any of your men farfetched. Then he happens to kill himself in the barracks. May I remind you that this was a man in your platoon?"
"I'm fully aware of Private McGill's actions, but I don't see what this has to do with me," Brandon spoke.
"But before that," continued Colonel White, "there was Corporal Lancaster. Can you remind me what happened?"
"I can't answer that, sir." The Bostonian Sergeant answered. "He just went out of his mind in Puerto Rico. He claimed someone assaulted him in Puerto Rico, and to be fair, the guy was going a little stir crazy the whole time we had been there."
"You don't abandon your fellow man on an island, and come back, while he laid dead on the beach. You ought to know better than that as a Sergeant." Colonel White spoke sternly.
"My apologies, sir, but..."
"Does the name, Annette Hochsetter, ring a bell to you?" Colonel White asked.
Feeling his face go pale, Brandon spoke, "I...I've encountered her. May I ask what this is about?"
"Well, she called the base the other day, discussing a case with me; two murders occurred while you were on transfer in Camp Henderson. She said you were one of the Marines on the base questioned, considering that you had a brief fling with one of the victims of the murder," explained Colonel White.
Suddenly, Brandon didn't feel right. Was everything starting to close around him? Colonel White sighed, continuing, "Look, Sergeant Harris, I'm here to protect the men of Camp Hamilton, but when I have issues like this come up, especially when the deaths of three Marines and suddenly two civilians in California come up, I need to take action, especially when these murders all point to you."
"Sir, you know I would never do anything as a disservice to the Corp," Brandon told his Colonel.
"I didn't think you would, Sergeant," said Colonel White. "But I need to take action when one of the men is accused of such things. In the meantime, I suggest you leave until this all dies down, effective immediately."
As Colonel White began to leave papers for Brandon, the Bostonian Sergeant immediately started to panic inside; this furlough meant that he couldn't go to General Prescott's birthday party...and Colonel White was about to thwart his plans with an immediate furlough. The Bostonian Sergeant slammed his fist down on the Colonel's desk, "No!"
Colonel White jumped as he looked into Brandon's eyes, seeing nothing but anger; this was all new to Colonel White, "What are you doing, Sergeant Harris?"
"You can't keep me from going to that party! I'm going to that party!" Brandon spoke strongly.
"Sergeant Harris, this is for your good. Now if you don't..."
Once again, Brandon expressed psychotic behavior, pushing paperwork off Colonel White's desk. Fearing for his safety, the Colonel said, "Okay, that's it, Sergeant Harris...I will ask you to leave before I call the MPs to..."
"Oh, go ahead, sir. Call the MPs! Call the MPs because what will the MPs do? They weren't there to help McGill or Lancaster when I just had my way with them." Brandon admitted.
Taken aback, Colonel White's face went pale, "Corporal Lancaster? Private McGill? What did you do to them?"
The Bostonian Sergeant scoffed, "What does it matter, Colonel? It's over now. They're dead. They had to be taken out, just like the two in California. I did do the world a favor if you think about it. As for McGill...someone like him had to be taught a lesson on how to behave. It's just a shame he didn't take kindly to my advances."
Suddenly, it dawned on Colonel White; Brandon admitted to assaulting Corporal Lancaster in Puerto Rico and Private McGill in a motel room. Both had taken their lives, unable to live with the shame, "Here I was thinking McGill was going crazy...you caused him to kill himself. Oh, this goes beyond a furlough. I have to report this to Leavenworth."
"You can't, and you won't, Colonel White!" Brandon screamed.
"Sergeant Harris, you are officially discharged! I'll see to it that you get at least..." Colonel White felt pushed against the wall. "Sergeant Harris, what are you doing?"
"You can't discharge me!" Brandon threatened. "You won't!"
"Sergeant Harris, you better stay right where you are, or I'll..." Colonel White countered when being hit by Brandon again.
The two men fought it out while the Colonel was doing everything he could to protect himself from the much more robust and younger man. The Bostonian Sergeant felt himself being flipped over as the much older Colonel got him into a choke hold, having the upper hand, but that all changed when Brandon reached over to the paperweight that he pushed off his commanding officer's desk, and hit the Colonel over the head, killing him in an instant. The Bostonian Sergeant stood up, panting in and out, looking down at the man he killed.
"You should've just minded your business, and none of this wouldn't have happened, Colonel. Now, look what you did! I must stage another accidental death before I get to a party this week! God, you people are selfish!" Brandon spoke out loud, expressing his exasperation at what had just happened.
The Colonel lay on the floor, blood seeping from where Brandon had struck him. The Bostonian Sergeant walked over to Colonel White's desk, opened up a box of cigars on his desk, and took out five, placing them in his pocket. He looked down at Colonel White, saying, "I didn't want to have to do it...but no one knows how to mind their business anymore. It's a shame because you always were on my side and had my back, Colonel. I don't do well with betrayal."
Silence again, and Brandon just smirked, "I'm sorry, Colonel White, but you couldn't stop me from going to that party...especially when I had plans with that beautiful Private. Now before I go and stage this murder as an accidental death, I'm going to have a smoke with one of those cigars I see you smoking."
With that said, Brandon sat in his deceased Colonel's desk chair, lighting up a cigar, gleefully smoking away.