Sometimes I imagine
I’m alone on a cool, green mountain,
High above the fear, the violence and rage.

Clouds wash my face -- thin air wraps me in stillness…

If there is only one word to describe this moment,
Let it be ‘Forgiveness’.

4 - Still Moments

It was past 10:00 pm when Sandy Burrows stepped through the I.C.U. door to find Leda and Helen in the waiting room.

“You didn’t have to stay.”

“Is there any change?” Leda asked.

“No, but the doctors are hopeful. They thought he would have tanked by now. The fact he’s hanging on is a good sign.”

“We do have to leave,” Helen said. “Is there anyone you’d like us to call before we go?”

“Hamish has no other family, and my people are in Louisiana. I’ll be all right. It was good of you to stay this long. Can I get your full names? When Hamish wakes up I’ll tell him you were here.”

“I’m Leda Maguire and this is my friend Helen Strachan.”

“Maguire… are you the woman who wrote that book? Hamish has been carrying it around for days.”

“Two Good Hands,” Leda said. “That’s how we met Hamish. I was speaking about the book to a Psych class.”

“That would be Rhonda Copps’ class, I guess,” Sandy said.

“That’s right,” Strachan answered, eyeing Sandy. “Did you know Professor Copps?”

“I never met her, but Hamish talked about her…”

Sandy Burrows let the thought trail off, as she looked back towards the I.C.U. door.

“You’re tired,” Leda said. “We’ll come back in the morning to check on you.”

“That’s very kind. I’d better get back to Hamish now.”
***

“Did you see the look on Sandy’s face when I asked her about Rhonda Copps?” Strachan said, pushing open the hotel lobby door.

“Do you think she knew about her husband and Rhonda?”

“We guessed it even before we saw Hamish’s letter.” Helen touched the sheet of paper in her pocket. “We hardly knew him. It must have been obvious to someone close to him.”

The elevator door opened at the sixth floor. Helen Strachan led the way to Leda’s room, taking her role as bodyguard seriously. Leda was both grateful for and mildly amused by the unfamiliar attention.

Leda pulled the pass-card from her pocket and reached for the door. She was about to insert the magnetic strip into the socket when a sound from inside the room caused her to freeze.

She glanced up to be sure Helen had heard it.

Helen put a finger in front of her mouth and motioned for Leda to go back to the elevator.

Then she pounded on the door.

“Room service!” Helen called out.

There was no answer from inside.

“Room service for room 603,” she repeated.

After waiting a moment, Helen noisily headed back toward the elevator, to where Leda was hidden around a corner. She pushed the elevator button, knowing the loud “ping” would be audible down the hall. Instead of boarding, though, she shoved Leda onto the elevator car and pushed the lobby button.

It only took a few seconds for the intruder to be sure he was alone and step into the corridor. Helen was waiting as he rounded the corner to the elevator.

Her plan was to get him trapped on the elevator with her and there overpower him. Even without a firearm, Strachan was capable of putting down almost any man. Her heavy-duty flashlight had caused more than one minor concussion. Let him explain to the Boston police what he’d been doing in Leda’s room.

Like all good plans, though, Helen’s went awry the moment the intruder laid eyes on her. Her unmistakable jungle of long blonde hair gave her away – he recognised her as Leda Maguire’s recent companion.

Too late, Helen realised her mistake. The intruder ran toward the staircase. She tore after him, the heavy clomp of her shoes covering ground like a steamroller. She caught him as he was entering the stairwell. He grabbed at her hair. Unmoved by the sudden pain, she kicked him with her hard leather shoes. He let go, falling backward with a cry and flailing his arms as he lost his footing.

Strachan leapt down the stairs after him, sending another solid kick towards his midriff. A sickening crack told her she’d connected with his ribcage. He doubled into a foetal position, protecting what he could of his soft parts.

Holding her flashlight in her right hand, Helen grabbed his hair with her left, lifting his head so she could look into his eyes.

“What were you doing in her room?” she hissed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t want to mess with me, my friend. I have a stinko attitude. I’m going to ask you one more time, then I’m going to drag your carcass down these stairs and toss you at the nearest cop. You want to find yourself tangled up in the Boston legal system? Feeling the need to dress yourself up in red tape?”

“Are you a cop?” he asked.

“No, baby,” Strachan said, “I’m your worst nightmare. I’ve got no status here. I don’t answer to anyone.”

“I think you broke my ribs,” he whined. “Get me an ambulance and I’ll tell you everything.”

“Tell me everything and I’ll think about it,” Strachan said. She made herself comfortable on the stairs, tapping the flashlight against her palm and resting one shoe lightly on his broken rib, just to make sure he knew who was in control.

“I used to be on the job,” he said.

“Used to be. What do you do now?”

“I’m private. Like you. I run a security outfit in the GTA. Small stuff – not on your scale.”

“So you’re from Greater Toronto.” Helen thought about that. “Who hired you to follow Ms. Maguire to Boston and invade her privacy?”

“It was an anonymous hire. Big money. My orders were to ‘find and follow’.”

“OK. So you ‘found’ and you ‘followed’. Why were you in her room?”

Instead of answering he turned slightly, pulling his jacket around his body.

“Give it,” Helen said. She tore at his jacket, managing to get the book from the inside pocket. Before he could grab it back, she tossed it up the stairs to the doorway, well out of his reach.

Rolling over, he grabbed her hair again. This time he managed to hold on, slamming her head against the concrete firewall.

For an instant Strachan was dazed. The intruder managed to get to his feet. He tried to climb over Helen to retrieve the book, but she got hold of his leg and threw him down another flight of stairs.

Realising he wasn’t going to get past Strachan, he stumbled downward, hoping at least to get away from the hotel before she recovered her balance.

Helen pulled herself together and made it down two flights before the wooziness forced her to give up the chase. Holding her head, she lumbered back up to the sixth floor and retrieved the book.

Anyway, she had a good description of the guy. The private security business in the Greater Toronto Area was a small, close-knit community. She should be able to find out who he was without too much effort.

As for who had hired him, well, that was another matter….
***

Inspector Jack Brown looked across the interview table at Minx Lowry, the younger sister of his murder victim. She was a beautiful woman, maybe twenty-seven or so, who wore her family wealth like a favourite beat up coat. No one could have mistaken her for ‘working class’, and yet there was something approachable about her. She seemed to understand what it meant to be human.

That’s what suffering does to us, Brown thought. It gives us a universal point of connection.

Minx took a sip of her drink, doing her best not to make a face at the muddy syrup that passed for coffee at 52nd Division.

“Do you have any idea,” Brown said, “why Robert booked a flight to Boston?”

“There’s something you should know about my brother,” Minx said. “He wasn’t exactly…like…the rest of us.”

“In what way was he different?”

“Robert was easily ‘caught up’ in things. The doctors called it a compulsive behavioural disorder. He was harmless, but he could be a… nuisance…at times.”

“In what way?”

“Robert would get attached to certain people. He was basically very shy. I hope you understand, he never meant any harm. But he would fantasize that certain people were close to him. They sometimes got spooked by his attention.”

“His record was clean,” Brown said.

“My family saw to that. Whenever they found out he was bothering someone, they would step in immediately. They would order him to stop. He always obeyed. They would apologise to the party. Occasionally, money would be involved.”

“And your brother would be free to continue his behaviour?” Brown wasn’t surprised, but the privileges of wealth still annoyed him.

“Believe me, Inspector, Robert never bothered the same person twice. He had a heart of gold. Once he understood he was upsetting the person, he always stopped. Robert wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Someone hurt him, though,” Brown said gently. “Do you know who he was ‘interested’ in lately?”

“He never confided his interests to us. We only ever learned what he was up to after there was a complaint.”

“Can you guess? Was it a celebrity? An average person? What was his usual type?”

“I spoke to him a couple of weeks ago, Inspector. All I know is that he said he was doing a lot of reading. He said he was spending his time at libraries and book stores. That seemed harmless enough. His last ‘interest’ was a minor movie star. You can just imagine what that fiasco cost us.”

“There were books missing from his shelf. The last time you saw him, was he reading anything specific?” Brown asked.

“I didn’t see my brother recently. We spoke on the phone.”

Minx lifted her paper cup and chugged back the last of the coffee, dregs and all.
***

It was near midnight when Sandy opened her eyes and sat up in her chair. Had she dreamt it, or had she sensed a movement on the bed in front of her?

She stood. Leaning over Hamish, she kissed his cheek. His eyes opened ever so slightly. He tried to speak, but the oxygen mask was in his way.

Sandy moved the mask, stroking his face.

“I’m here, Hamish,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“There was a letter,” he said, his voice a jagged whisper. “Did you get my letter?”

“What letter, dear? You’re hallucinating. You’ve had a terrible accident. You need to rest.”

“The letter… Sandy, please, you have to ask the police. Someone must have taken it. It’s important. It explains everything…”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sandy said. “I don’t need explanations. I only need you to get better. No matter what the problem is, we’ll get past it. Just rest, now, dear. Don’t fight it.”

She held his hand, watching his eyes flutter closed once again.

Sitting back down, she placed her hand on her own belly. A small smile spread across her face as she drifted back to sleep.

Your Daddy’s gonna be all right, she thought. Everything’s gonna be all right.
_______________________________

TUNE IN NEXT WEEK, FOR VOLUME 5 OF "TWO GOOD HANDS", a Leda And Strachan mystery!

Copyright belongs to Donna Carrick. No part of this story may be reproduced without the written consent of the author.

1 - Now you can order your signed copies of The First Excellence and "Two Scoops" Is Just Right directly from the authors!

*** NEW FEATURE -- SEE PAYPAL OPTIONS BELOW!***

Order books:

The First Excellence $19.95 "Two Scoops" Is Just Right $15.95

International Orders:

The First Excellence $24.95 "Two Scoops" Is Just Right $20.95

Be sure to indicate which book you are ordering as well as quantities:

***For your convenience, both books are also available at Amazon.com:
Order The First Excellence from Amazon
Order "Two Scoops" Is Just Right from Amazon