Chapter 35: Missed Connections
"You cut your hair!" Halima wailed in shock and despair.
The girl formerly known as Chuck felt her smile wobble a little. Lily and Vivian had done a fine job, bringing it to just above the shoulder in lightly styled wavy layers. Still, it almost brought her to tears, watching her dark locks drift to the floor like autumn leaves. All for the sake of Emily Frontenac…
"You don't like it?" Chuck half-pleaded, feeling a bit silly as took off her beanie.
"Well…" Halima assessed her. "Now that I see it without the hat…I actually do."
She seemed to mean it, so Chuck fortified her smile and got ready to open up shop. She was just setting down a complimentary bowl of candy when Halima said:
"I hope Charlie had an all right time the other night?" It took Chuck a few seconds to realize she was referring to Charles Charles… "I was sad to see him leave early!"
"Oh no, he – he had the time of his life," she replied, focusing with all her might on updating the inventory. "He just figured the party was pretty much pooped after he punched someone."
"Ugh," she scoffed. "George deserved it, accosting us like that. He never cared about this job, he's just upset he lost it."
"Well…finders keepers…"
Their conversation seemed to die down there, as an older customer approached, not to buy books but to poke around the bowl, searching for something specific. Once she had picked out a mint humbug and shuffled off, Halima continued like they were never interrupted.
"I wouldn't mind meeting up with him again. Without all the Phantom prosthetics. He's quite the flirt."
Chuck suppressed a shudder at the thought of her employer trying to date her undead father.
"Flirt is just his default setting. I mean – as far as I can tell. It's not like I know him well. We only met at breakfast a week ago…"
"Hmm," Halima mused. "Well, if you see him again tell him I said allo. I'd like to get to know him…in the Biblical sense."
As Chuck fought the urge to curl in on herself like a pill bug, another customer huffed reproachfully from across the counter.
Halima smirked. "I see the kinds of books you buy. Do not act chaste with me, sir."
Aghast, the man put back whatever he was perusing and sauntered off, as Chuck struggled to suppress a giggle.
"Ah, you laugh! But you're not so innocent either, Emily. I saw you dancing with that actor."
"And it was just dancing," she replied with the firmness of a rubber stamp. "I have someone back home who I love very much."
"Oh? Well why didn't he travel with you?"
"He wanted to but…he has a lot of going on."
"Ah, je suis desolée. Do you talk often at least?"
She nodded, reaching for a bon-bon in the hopes that its sweetness would help the bitter truth go down easier. For the facts were these: the Pie Maker had not talked to Chuck in weeks. And when he did finally call, from wherever he had gone, she would have to tell all – about Eugene, about Charles Charles, about Emma…
Most importantly about Emma. Because somewhere in the Office of Science and Technology there was a file with her name on it. And if anyone could do something about it, it was Eddie…
XXX
As the adrenaline of the past few hours abated, the Pie Maker felt a strange sense of calm and clarity settle over him. He sat with Eddie at the bus stop, while Maurice and Ralston huddled half-asleep in the car, waiting to be taken to destinations unknown by a man who happened to be their father…
"You never told me why you brought him back in the first place."
"…who?"
Ned shook his head and took off his Grim Reaper cloak, tucking the mask into its folds. Olive had suggested the costume as a joke, but it was the Pie Maker who decided to commit to the bit, if only to annoy Emerson. It was not particularly funny in the cold light of dawn…
"Treadwell," he said. "I know why Dwight offed him. What I don't know is why you brought him back and let him stay."
"I didn't let him," Eddie griped, as if he would never be so foolhardy as to do such a thing.
"Maybe not on purpose. But you did let him. Which brings me right back around to the why?"
For a moment Eddie was silent, rubbing at the shadows under his eyes. "I…needed to find out who he told about Emma."
Ned wrapped his hands up in the deep black fabric, sheltering them from the cold. "He saw you wake her up?"
"Not quite. But the fact was he declared her dead one day, then she was alive again the next. With me by her bedside. Luckily," he grimaced, "she asphyxiated under a pile of rubble. Brutal, but all she had to show for it was some cuts and bruises. Nothing that looked fatal from the outside."
Suddenly, Ned was struck by an unbidden image of Chuck fighting to breathe under a smiley face plastic bag. He could feel his fingers clench, digging into the cloth…
"It was easy enough to pass off as Treadwater making a mistake," Eddie continued, "being too embarrassed to admit it. Everyone else was so relieved they didn't ask questions."
"Everyone except him…"
Eddie nodded, mouth twisting as if he had just bitten into something burnt. "He was like a dog with a bone after that. Just wouldn't leave it alone. He kept pressuring her to let him run tests, 'check for internal bleeding'. It didn't end until she quit and went back home."
"But that still left whoever died in her place. And if they were on your base he would've examined them. What was their name?"
Eddie stared off into a shadowy alley across the street, as if the answer might emerge from it. "I can't recall."
The Pie Maker did not believe him. Or perhaps he did not want to believe that his father could be so callous as to forget such a thing, when he remembered everything. Everyone…
"Hey, you don't get to judge, okay? A lot of people died out there. Forgive me for losing track."
Ned rolled his eyes at this. He had no intention of taking Eddie to task over what was, in essence, premeditated murder. Not when he himself had done the same for the woman he loved. However, he had to wonder…
"Did you know random proximity could hit multiple people?"
"Like your Jonestown wannabes in the cemetery? How would I know? Only two people lived past their expiration date on my watch. And only two took their place."
The Pie Maker decided to take him at his word on that… "Okay, but there is no way his whole death cure hypothesis was based on one person he never examined. He must've had some other evidence of your supernatural shenanigans. I mean, you were worried enough that you risked bringing him back, even though that would prove him right. And give him an added incentive to live…"
"What're you getting at?"
The Pie Maker was trying to get at the facts, which seemed as tangled as a nest of vipers. Alas, the Blue Berets worked so hard to keep secrets, it was a wonder they ever found time to keep the peace…
"This is like fighting a hydra. I get one question out of the way and another one rears its ugly head."
Eddie chuckled at that, muttering "okay, Hercules". Before Ned could emphasize how serious he was, the rumble of an approaching bus drowned him out.
"Your chariot awaits…"
He got to his feet - Ned following reluctantly - as it creaked to a halt and its doors swung open.
"Look after the twins," said Ned.
"Look after yourself," said Eddie.
Then – as if the moment were not uncomfortable enough – he dragged his son into a hug so tight he could barely breathe. So tight he could barely tell their heartbeats apart…
The Pie Maker endured the embrace until he was abruptly pushed away, towards the bus. As he climbed aboard, Ned thought about how he no longer needed to look after himself. He had done so for years, and now he belonged to a whole other family that showed up for him everyday. He couldn't wait to get back to them…
XXX
Emerson Cod had not given much thought to what a Snook family reunion might look like. If asked, he would have guessed at laughter, or tears, or perhaps an all-out shouting match. Anything but hasty hugs followed by awkward small talk in their cavernous living room…
"So…we can expect more of your friends?" said Odelia Snook, glancing at Emerson over her teacup.
"Only one more," Olive replied.
"And what about farm animals?" said Oswald Snook, leaning forward to pick up a macaroon.
"Nope. Only these two. I promise they won't bother you…"
Babineaux the 'Estate Manager' had called ahead to inform (or perhaps warn) Mr. and Mrs. Snook that they had uninvited guests. Still – despite having ample time to prepare – they did not seem capable of even acting like they were excited to see their daughter when they walked through the door. Which Emerson found especially egregious.
He did not mind being given the cold shoulder. He was a stranger after all. But Olive deserved better…
"Thank you for your hospitality," he said, sitting up straighter in his rather uncomfortable embroidered chair. "We'll try not to get in your way. Or overstay our welcome."
"Oh!" Mrs. Snook squeaked, fiddling with the rings on her manicured fingers. "Don't be silly. Stay as long as you like."
At that, Mr. Snook started to choke on his cookie. "Well," he coughed. "We…did intend to travel for Thanksgiving…"
"We'll be long gone by then," said Olive, smiling with the sweetness of a pageant princess.
The PI had no idea to where they would be long gone, but as he looked at his diminutive friend, hands gripped tight in her lap, he knew anywhere would be better than here.