The
Case of the Conductor’s Keys and the Deadhead that Split East and West
By DocPaul
Series: Michael Guerin, The World’s Greatest
Alien Investigator
Episode: Five
Author’s email: DocPaul2002@yahoo.ca
Rating: PG
Spoilers: none,
Disclaimers: The concepts and names are the same, but
the characters belong to me. I give them life, more life than
Warnings: This is not canon, so if you expect it,
don’t. Things change. People change. It happens.
Summary: A
Michael POV documenting his investigating technique as the World's Greatest
Alien Investigator. From pranks to misdemeanors, to accidental, who is to say
what is what?.
Author’s note: This is a fluff piece for me. Thought
you could use a relief from angst…or prolonged angst. The idea of this story
is taken in part from the movie Zero Effect with all parts after the first part
completely mine. This case is dedicated to Val who shared a suggestion of a
train trip. Thank you. For anyone wanting to see the trips details, or feel a
need to get away, please visit http://www.americanorientexpress.com/framesets/frame_2003tours.html
The
Case of the Conductor’s Keys and the Deadhead that Split East and West
Michael Guerin:
The World's
Greatest Alien Investigator
~For Val~
Notoriety.
An interesting concept and one I never thought to have plagued me. In my
journeys as an investigator, and being the World’s Greatest alien one, I have
come to accept that my time is rarely my own. People want things from me.
Sometimes someone to listen, other times for me to find something misplaced, and
other times they want me to look inside them and find what they lost, some truth
that somehow escapes them.
I admit
to perhaps seeing a little more into people than others, and at times even more
than they can themselves. It is hard learning to not act on what I see. Tiring.
It all gets tiring. There was a time in my life when I was very alone, before my
trusty assistant discovered me. I say discover, because it was as if all my life
I had been waiting to be found. The moment Maria’s eyes looked into me, really
seeing me, it was as if in that moment, she brought me into existence.
From
the moment I met her, I knew that I would never be alone again. I admit, in my
youth, that very thought scared me stiff, and being trapped in some type of
relationship was the least of my desires. I have since matured. There was a
special year, a time when my relationship with my assistant solidified into
something beyond even my imagination, and that changed my way of thinking. One
day I woke up and discovered that there was no one I wanted to talk to more,
share things with, and somehow between here and there, she had become my very
best friend.
So back
to notoriety, since I have slowly built a reputation as being what I am, the
World's Greatest Alien Investigator, and people have sought out my expert
opinion and advice. This is a problem. I was raised alone, and except for a few
notable people, I have remained that way. There is very little room in my life
for clutter and people. I have enough room for my assistant and me. And last
week, I was approached six times for advice and assistance. Six times!
It was
time to take a breather, get away from the hearth fire and strike out on an
adventure. So packing the bare essentials, which are… well, you know… myself
and my assistant, I took us off to Sante Fe.
“Michael, please tell me!”
“Hold your water.”
Maria huffed. “That is not a nice thing to say to
a four month pregnant woman.” Maria stared at her feet. “I think my feet are
swelling! Do they look large to you?”
“Huge.” Smiling to himself at her sound of
distress, Michael pulled into an
Looking around, Maria slowly got out of the car. It
was nice enough, but a frown moved over her face. “What are we doing here?
This isn’t a construction job, so it has to be something else…a new case?”
“Nope.” Michael grabbed their bags, placing them
on the sidewalk for the porter to load in a tram. “This is where we were
going.”
“Michael…”
He ignored her and helped load the bags. Taking her
hand, he dragged her behind him. Maria was slow, so he had to pull her along as
she looked around, still asking questions.
“May I help you?”
“Reservations for Guerin.”
“One moment, Sir.” Maria took a small trip from
his side. Wandering over to a billboard announcing a party and reception, she
smiled. The American Orient Express tour. Taking a brochure, she rejoined
Michael as he took their hotel key. They patiently waited as an elderly couple
with the man using a walker took the first available elevator.
“Michael, look at this! I always wanted to go to
the
“Uh huh.” Michael ushered her towards the
elevator, listening as she read the brochure, waxing poetic over the sheer
romanticism of it all. Rolling his eyes, he noticed a woman heading for their
elevator in an ugly hat with a peacock plume. Frantically pushing the button,
the doors were closing, but at the last minute a tip of an umbrella bumped the
elevator cushions reopening the door.
“Mortie! I got us an elevator!” The woman pushed
her way into the car as Michael quickly pulled Maria back against him in safety.
She smiled at Michael and Maria, sticking her head out of the car. “Mortie!”
Michael had not seen the famed Mortie, but when he
did, it was beyond his expectations. Beefy, that was a good word to describe the
man. He was a mountain, towering well over six feet, even over Michael’s
six-three. Add in the three times Michael’s girth, and Mortie was not a man,
he was actually a moose. He was carrying a portable television with a game on
it. Michael reassessed his first impression as the man moved the monitor around
so Michael could see the game too. The man was okay.
Granted, he and his wife took up more than half of
all the room in the elevator, but they were from
Maria waited until the porter delivered their bags
and the door closed before lifting a brow at her husband. Standing in the middle
of the room, her hands were across her stomach reflexively.
“Michael?”
“What?”
“You want to tell me what we’re doing here?”
Michael shrugged, putting his bag on the bed to
unpack. He had to find something to wear for the reception and dinner.
“Michael?”
Sighing he pointed at the brochure she was still
holding. “I thought we could take a train ride.”
“Train ride?” Maria stared at the brochure for a
moment. “Michael, you have to reserve the seats and accommodations. It cost
money.”
“I know. I paid for it last week when I got the
check from that guy in Seattle, the one with the…”
“I remember the case.” Maria tapped a nail
against her teeth. “You reserved the trip?” Michael shrugged. “All by
yourself?”
Michael made a face at her and the tone of
disbelief. “I’m not a total retard. I can make reservations. I even know how
to sign a check.”
“And there is no great mystery? No case?”
“Nope.”
“Vacation?” Michael grabbed his bathroom kit.
“That’s right, and you might want to consider
changing for dinner.”
Maria was not through with him. “Wait, a vacation
with just you and me, no case, no business, no ulterior motive…alien
hunting?”
“Maria, do you want to go on vacation or not?”
Maria quickly scanned the brochure again, making a
mental count. “Eight days! This is an eight day tour.” Closing the brochure
and shaking it at him. “Michael, there are other people on this tour. People
who will talk to us. Expect you to talk back, converse. Be pleasant.”
“I know that!”
Maria went over to her irritated husband.
“You’re going to hate every second.”
“Absolutely.”
Maria could not take it. It was too much. Dropping
to the floor, she quickly looked under the bed.
“What are you doing?” He helped her to her feet.
“Pods. Body snatchers. Someone stole my
husband.” Maria looked at him amused, the dimple on her cheek deepening.
“Oh, I forgot. You’re one of the original pod people.”
“Funny.” Michael made a face at her, hiding a
smile, he pinched her side.
Maria danced away laughing, getting into the fun of
being on vacation, carefree and young. Her laughter increased at the look on his
face. “I’m sorry! It’s just…just…so romantic!”
Michael grimaced. He had enough. Taking himself off
to shower, he planned to castigate himself thoroughly for his moment of
whimsical weakness. He would start by using all the hot water.
Maria sat down on the bed barely noticing the
bathroom door partially closing to block the sound of the running shower.
Reading the brochure again, she reached for the phone to call Liz and tell her
all about it, when reality hit.
“Michael! Oh god! This is a formal dining
affair…I, I haven’t a damn thing to wear!”
So
notoriety comes with a price, and that price is usually a loss of privacy. Over
the last few years I have given up a lot to pursue my calling as an alien
investigator. Now obviously I could merely refer to myself as an
‘investigator’ and though that would be true, it would not entirely be
correct. For, I am indeed, an alien. The importance of recognizing all relevant
facts can not be overstressed. It is with all information presented that a true
and valid deduction can be made. I am not an alien because I am an investigator,
nor am I an investigator because I am alien. Neither is dependent on the other,
and yet, I am both. My abilities as a trained observer are neither dependent on
my human nature nor my alien. I can only report that I am what I am, and that is
something I have learned to appreciate.
I
always present myself fully as both, not because I must, but rather because it
is correct. There have been times in my life, as there are in other's, that I
had wished to be more than I am. In the same token and regard, there had been
times when I wished to be less. I can honestly say that at this time in my life,
and much to my amazement, I am exactly what I want to be, where I want to be,
with whom I want to be, and I am happy.
I have,
in some magical, unknown manner, found myself somewhere that my alien siblings
and human friends still struggle to achieve. Believe me, this does not in any
way denote me as being better, smarter and or above my counterparts. Actually,
it has always been the opposite.
If I
may tender this as my understanding of my life and me, then please take it thus.
I was given less. I never had the fortune to be adopted into a nice home, with
loving parents, and in a position in society affording me with advantages. I was
dumped in an abusive foster home, motherless, and unloved. Specifically, the
only things I had were my belief that I belonged with Max and Isabel and they
were my family, my siblings. In that thought, I actually was spared the feeling
of being completely alone. Finally, there was this idea that I belonged
somewhere, to someone, to a place that was my real home, and that I was not
forgotten, but rather… lost. I had to believe that, needed to believe.
Therefore,
with this in mind, I can say why I have succeeded where Max, Isabel and the
others have not, with the exception of my trusty assistant. I expected less. My
expectations were low, but my dreams high. That dream was extremely lofty. I was
looking for home. Strange that when I discovered it, it was nothing as I had
imagined, the very thing in front of my face, and so easy to find once I allowed
myself to reach out and actually take it. I found Maria. She was my home. Once I
discovered and accepted her, all the other parts of my life fell into place.
That simple.
Therefore,
I know, that once my brother and sister find inside themselves the truth of what
they need or are searching to find, they will achieve what I have. There is no
conceit or false modesty in this, but rather, mere truth. It’s out there. They
can find it if they really believe.
So to
this unexpected surprise vacation, I have to defend my actions to say that when
you have a happy home, then in turn you are a happy person. My home is Maria,
and I know, no matter how much a nightmare this will be for me, that this
vacation will make her happy. That means everything.
Over
the past month or so, I have come to notice that my home was being invaded.
Maria’s time and energies deflected by interlopers away from me, and our
lives. People were demanding my time as well. This was a solution. A proverbial
two birds with one stone. It gives me time alone away from annoying people and
gives me time with my mate, making her happy at the same time.
You
might consider this romantic, but stop sniveling and wake up to facts. This is
not romantic. It is merely a choice destined to stop an impinging madness. Some
days I really do regret the burden I carry being alien investigator, and I do
wish for a lifestyle less notorious. Other days, I am happy just being me,
Michael Guerin, the World’s Greatest Alien Investigator.
“Michael, stop it.”
“What?”
Maria smiled slightly, ruffling his hair. They had
lit candles in their bedroom and room service had delivered a bottle of
sparkling apple juice, on ice. Playing with his hair, her fingers moved over his
face, closing her eyes to the rasp of his whiskers on her skin.
“Stop sulking.”
“I don’t sulk. What the hell kind of word is
that anyway?”
“A nice descriptive one. You too are sulking.”
Maria kissed the top of his head. “More people than you expected?”
Michael groaned, comfortably burying his head into
her body. “God, doesn’t anyone have to work anymore? They should have
mentioned the size of this tour!”
“Everyone seemed very nice.”
Pushing up a bit, Michael moved over her body until
he had her trapped under him on the bed. “I
should protest. Bet I could get back part of our money!”
“For what?”
“Misrepresentation. Nowhere in that entire
brochure did I see mention of the entire frickin’ state of
Maria made a phishing noise in her throat.
“You’re being ridiculous.” She feathered her fingers through his hair and
lifted up to kiss his throat. Sighing contently, she was happy. She liked him
ridiculous, relaxed, and happy enough to complain.
~~~
“Maria! Michael!”
Maria pinched Michael’s side when he swore under his breath at the
sight of Marge and Mortie Schultz racing towards them.
“Be nice,” she said, rubbing his arm. Michael
snorted. Yeah. Right.
“Maria, you and Michael must sit with us during
lunch! Mortie and I noticed that you both have ‘M’ names just like us.
Isn’t that sweet?” Marge pushed her large bag into Mortie’s hands as she
took Maria’s arm to lead her towards the restaurant, La Casa Sena. Michael
followed at a slower pace as he became trapped behind the elderly couple they
met the day before, the husband still trying to navigate his walker through the
crowds.
Maria smiled pleasantly enough. “We’d love to
dine with you.” Ignoring her husband’s look of irritation, Maria and Marge
discussed the tour of the old plaza.
“Maria…” Michael said as they walked to their
table.
“After lunch, I promise. We’ll go do something
alone.”
“Promise?”
“Absolutely.”
Michael sighed. What was he thinking? Marge spotted
another couple from
~~~
Once they arrived in
“Michael, you want to go check out the train? They
have a nice lounge car and the dining car is…”
Before Michael could respond there was knocking on
their door. Michael’s hand snuck out of the bathroom to cover Maria’s mouth
before she could respond. Pulling her into the small bathroom with him, he
quietly shut the door quickly kissing her.
“Maria? Michael? It’s Edna and Marge!” The two
women outside waited patiently knocking again, when they got no response.
“Maybe they already went to the lounge car,
Edna.”
“You’re probably right.”
Michael released Maria’s mouth, mating his
forehead to hers as they both breathed deeply. “I’m not going to make it.
This is only day two, and that leaves six more days of torture.”
“You’re doing good.” Maria said. He was doing
better than she'd ever imagined. “I’ll help you get through it.”
“How?”
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pushed him
into the bathroom wall. “I’ll show you.” Maria kissed him deeply, her hand
slowly unbuttoning his shirt. “Didn’t we have an agreement? You make me
happy, and I return the favor.”
Michael stared down at her mouth, watching it come
closer. “You definitely make me happy,” he said against her mouth.
~~~
On the third day, Michael convinced Maria to forgo
the organized tour of the
“Maria!” Marge quickly pulled Maria into an
empty space forcing Michael to join them. “You two were so bad! Going off all
alone, you missed all the fun.”
“Fun? The tour?” Maria asked, handing Michael
the menus so he could order for them. Marge was too distracting and she needed
to eat. Michael knew what she liked.
“No!” Marge leaned in and Edna joined her, both
of them excited and whispering loud. Maria frowned as she tried to understand
what they were saying as both women talked at the same time.
“Jensen.” Maria repeated. It had something to do
with the Jensens from
“All his money was gone, and a watch, Carol’s
jewelry, and a few other personal items.”
Maria looked at Michael helplessly. Michael was for
once listening intently. “Someone picked his pocket on the tour?” Michael
asked.
“No,” said Mortie, pausing in his eating. “It
was taken from their stateroom. The porter, Stan, says that his keys are
missing…stolen!”
Edna put a hand on her chest. “Imagine that, a
thief on board with us! Isn’t it exciting?”
“Yes, exciting.” Maria frowned and looked at
Michael. She lifted an eyebrow.
“No. We’re on vacation.” Michael said, and
Maria breathed easier. Good. She would not mind helping, but this was their
first vacation free of detection.
Mortie waved his fork at the table. “Thing is
everyone was on the tour, except you two, and all the staff was accounted for,
so they are uncertain who it could be.”
“Damn, do you think they suspect me and Michael,
since we were off alone?” Maria asked, biting her lip. That would not improve
Michael’s impatience.
“I doubt it.” Marge said in comfort. “We saw
the two of you quite a few times today. Your walking tour was higher up than
ours, but you were pretty visible most of the day.”
Maria cleared her throat, her skin pinking up.
“You were watching us?”
Edna and Marge both sighed. “So romantic!”
Michael put a hand over his mouth as Maria’s mouth
opened then closed. They did take a rather long, and involved, lunch break. He
could almost hear the wheels in his wife’s head clicking as she recalled their
day, her cheeks becoming redder. Passing his glass of water to her, he
encouraged her to drink. Maria sputtered in the water when Marge sighed,
“Newlyweds.”
“Oh, God!” Maria said dramatically, shooting
daggers at Michael who suddenly found his humor and was laughing softly under
his breath.
~~~
By day five of the tour, Michael had taken to hiding
from the other passengers. He calmly walked the passages with Maria, pulling her
back as others passed them, but he pretty much kept to himself.
“Mrs. Parish, let me help you with that!” Maria
helped the small elderly woman with a walker.
“Thank you, dear.” The woman smiled as Michael
took the walker from Maria and quickly folded it up to lean against the wall.
“You’re both so sweet. My poor Carl, he hates that walker, but he can’t
get around without it. All these years with it, you would think he’d be more
comfortable with it.”
Maria nodded at Mrs. Parish, trying desperately to
find small talk. “Did you enjoy the tour today?”
“Oh we never go on the tours. Carl can’t get
around. No, we’re content to enjoy the scenery from here, staying closer to
home.” Maria smiled at the elderly man already seated at the dining table.
“Would the two of you like to join us?”
Michael quickly interceded. Maria was a soft touch.
“Actually, I asked the steward to set us up a special table tonight.”
“Of course, dear, Carl and I understand. Why it
wasn’t so long ago that we were newlyweds.” Michael lifted a brow to that.
He bet they were not a day under seventy.
Maria started to correct the woman’s assumption
that they were newlyweds, but Michael quickly culled her away from the group.
They took their special table for the two of them, in a nice dark corner of the
dining car, away from the regular noise.
“All the group interaction getting to you,
Spaceboy?”
“It is…difficult.”
Maria laughed. “Strange how they all believe
we’re newlyweds. I keep trying to tell them we’ve been married for years,
but they don’t seem to notice.”
Michael shrugged it off.
“So Edna was telling me today that six more
staterooms were burglarized. The porter and steward are talking to a young man
who is deadheading to
Michael grunted as he read the menu. Nothing was
appealing. “You think the fish is fresh, or frozen.”
“Fresh. I don’t think at these prices they’re
going to serve fish sticks.”
“I like fish sticks with extra
Maria looked around. “Speaking of
Michael looked at his wife critically. “You
feeling okay? The motion of the train isn’t bothering your stomach?”
“No. I’m fine. I think we’re safely past all
the morning sickness.”
“Thank god!” Michael could not handle much more.
It was hard to see her sick. Half the time he felt guilty, and the rest he was
worried something was wrong. It was great to be out of the first trimester, but
that meant they were getting closer to the delivery date. Michael frowned.
“Michael, do you think it’s a staff member or a
guest? I mean, a guest could steal the porter’s keys, and be entering other
rooms when no one is around.”
“Don’t know. Don’t care. I haven’t given it
much thought.” Michael quickly gave the steward their orders and went back to
reading the itinerary. “Tomorrow we’re in
“A lodge in the woods? Oh, I think we can
definitely find a ‘something’ to do.” Maria grabbed Michael’s hand.
“Did I thank you for this trip?”
“A few times.” Threading his fingers with hers,
he looked at their hands. His was so much larger than hers, but she held so much
in the tiny vessels. “I’m always willing to let you continue, though. I
wouldn’t want to stifle self-expression.”
“Of course you wouldn’t.”
~~~
On their way back to their room, Maria and Michael
met the Parishes again. The elderly woman was trying to maneuver her husband
through the narrow passage, and she dropped her bag. Maria quickly knelt to help
her while Michael helped Mr. Parish to their room.
It was not hard to imagine why the elderly couple
was set on getting out of the corridor as a loud argument from the end of the
car exploded into an angry tirade. A young man pushed past them and continued on
to the next car.
Stan was still putting down their bed when they
entered the room. He looked embarrassed to see them.
“Sorry, sir. I was distracted earlier, so I’m
running behind.” Stan smiled at Maria. “I got the request from the steward
about your milk. I’ll bring it by in an hour if that's acceptable.”
“Thank you, Stan.” Maria clicked a nail against
her tooth in thought. “Was that young man the deadhead everyone is
questioning?”
“Yes. He's only been on rail service for a year.
His usual run is the California Zephyr and the Capital run from
Michael was listening as he gathered up some
clothing they had tossed about the room. “So does he work this train during
this trip?”
“He was assigned to help me out if I needed it,
but mostly deadheads enjoy the free ride. It’s nice to have extra hands.”
“I can imagine.”
Stan finished up. “I feel for the kid. He had no
black marks on his record, and this really is a dark spot. There's no proof that
he's entering the rooms, but he did have access to my keys. I tend to believe
his assertions that he's innocent.”
“Have they recovered any of the items stolen?”
Stan shook his head no. “We’ve discretely
searched all the cabins, but there's only so much we can do without overstepping
the bounds of invasion of privacy. It looks bad for the kid, since the staff on
this run have been together for years without incident. Whoever is doing this is
moving quickly. We’ve been watching, and nothing seems out of the ordinary.”
Michael thanked the porter as he left. He seemed
lost in thought.
“What are you thinking?”
Michael shrugged. “I think people see what they
want to see, and it’s not unusual to overlook what seems improbable.”
I
realize that Maria, my trusty assistant and wife, is dying to question me about
my thoughts on this case, which is not really a case. I am on vacation. There is
always a sense that a person must do what they must at all times. This is a
weighty sentiment that has nothing to do with real life. Believe me, it is
easier to turn a blind eye and refuse to be inconvenienced.
I have
my own concerns right now, and whereas the mystery of the missing keys and the
deadhead do at times tickle my interest, I am determined to remain impartial and
outside this mess. As I mentioned before, notoriety has a downfall, namely the
lack of privacy. Here on this train, I am merely a paying customer, and for
once, I like the taste of normal.
Maria
is different. I am coming to suspect that I have trained her too well. Her mind
is completely engaged in the excitement of this mystery along with the other
passengers, and I can see her dying to force me to confess my observations.
I
refuse to be drawn into this business that has nothing to do with me, at least
not until someone makes it otherwise.
Maria sat polishing off her ice cream, having
indulged in two ice cream sundaes while listening to Marge, Edna, and Carol
talking. They paused only once over the use of
“I think that young man looks very devious.”
Carol sniffed. “They searched his belongings and did not find my jewelry, but
still…”
“He could be innocent.” Maria suggested.
“Oh! That makes it so much more delicious,” said
Marge. “My Mortie thinks it's the porter, Stan. Obviously, he's trying to push
this on that poor young boy. Did you see him? He needs a good mother. I bet his
mother doesn’t even know where he is.”
“He was visiting his sister in Sante Fe,” Maria
offered.
“There you go! He's probably a runaway, joined the
rail, and needed help to find his way home. Poor lamb.” Marge shook her head
tragically. “A boy that doesn’t even call his own mother. What is this world
coming to? My own sweet son, Richie, hasn’t bothered to pick up the phone in a
month! I could be dead in my bed for all he cares. Serves him right if I should
meet a tragic end here on this train!”
Edna held her heart. “I know! My Winston, he’s
always so busy. Does he even know I’m gone? I honestly didn’t think a train
ride would be so…” Edna struggled for a word.
“Perilous?” Maria suggested.
The woman hit Maria’s hand in thanks. “Exactly!
Perilous. I saw the movie! There isn’t even a Hercules here to save us from
being murdered in our beds.” The rest nodded in agreement.
Carol sniffed, looking at the others. “I never had
a son, three daughters.” The group commiserated her lack of a son. Maria
watched, amused, thinking about a piece of that wonderful sponge cake she had
the previous night drenched in a raspberry sauce with extra whipped topping.
“Um, excuse me?” Maria looked around, perhaps
just a small sliver. She was starving.
“Maria, does Michael call his mother often? He
looks like such a fine son.”
Maria shook her head. “Michael never had a mother.
He was in foster care until he was sixteen.”
Carol placed a hand on her chest, that poor
child…motherless. “Was he adopted?”
“No. He petitioned the courts for emancipation.
His home life wasn’t…he was better off on his own.” Maria saw their looks,
and she swore under her breath. Oh, Michael was going to hate this. “Of
course, my mother thinks of him as a son, and they have a really close
relationship.” The three women breathed easier. As did Maria, who was not
looking forward to explaining why Michael suddenly found himself smothered in
the three women’s mothering care.
“There's your groom now! Oh, he has that
appearance. I think he's looking for you, Maria.” Marge had a twinkle in her
eye.
“Marge, I told you. Michael and I aren’t
newlyweds. We’ve been married for years, and we've been together practically
since we were fifteen, almost ten years.”
Marge patted Maria’s hand, her eyes suddenly wise
and serious. “That doesn’t matter, honey. This is your first child,
right?” Maria nodded. What did that have to do with anything? “Well there
you go. It’s hard on men with their first. They suddenly realize that it's no
longer going to be just you and him, but rather, he will have to share you with
someone else, someone more vulnerable and needy, if you can believe it. It takes
a little adjusting. Almost ten years of your undivided attention is a hard thing
to lose.”
Carol nodded. “He has that hungry look about him,
that need to have your attention only.”
Exclusive, Michael was losing his exclusive rights
to her time, and in truth, it started happening since Isabel and Jesse got
Simon. The constant calls and interruptions, and when it wasn't Isabel, it was
Liz or Max. Maria stared at them, and then at Michael. Closing her eyes for a
moment, she rubbed her forehead. How could she miss that?
“Ladies, excuse me.” Forgetting the sponge cake
she ordered, Maria went to Michael. Taking his hand, she led him out of the
lounge car. The older women watched them with smiles on their faces, and when
Maria’s third dessert arrived, they each grabbed a spoon and shared it.
~~~
Michael allowed Maria to drag him back to their
room. Frowning when he saw the Parishes coming out of a room, he easily detoured
Maria around them.
“Maria? What is it?” He slid the door shut, his
hands coming to rest on her waist spanning her small body. “Are you okay?”
“Hmm, fine.” Her arms went up around his neck as
her mouth found the side of his neck. “I thought you were hiding out with
Mortie catching the latest game.”
“I was, but decided I better check on you, make
sure you didn’t eat all the desserts available on the train.”
Maria laughed, charmed by how well he knew her.
Kissing him again, she moved backward to the sofa that made into a bed. It took
a moment, as she looked to the side, to realize what was missing on the low
table next to the sofa.
“Michael, where are my wedding rings?” Michael
was busy moving his mouth up her neck, his hands already unfastening the front
of her dress. “Michael?”
“Hmm?”
“My wedding rings. I left them on the table.”
Maria sat up again, moving him off her as she looked under the table and on the
floor. “Did you pick them up?”
“No.” Michael noticed how upset Maria was
getting so he quickly searched the floor, the bathroom, and rang for Stan.
“Maybe Stan placed them somewhere when he made up the room.”
“They were just there, over an hour ago.”
“Why did you take them off? You never take them
off.”
“Normally, I don’t, but this morning my hands
were swollen. I think the change in altitude and climate, or many I’m
retaining water from the pregnancy.” Maria’s heart was beating in her
throat; she could feel her emotions fraying. “My wedding rings! You picked
them out special…if I lost them…”
Michael grabbed her face, forcing her to look at
him. “Stop it. I’ll find them.”
Stan knocked on the door. “Did you need something
Mr. Guerin?”
Michael quickly explained the situation and
together, he and Stan searched the compartment while a distraught Maria watched,
convinced her rings were forever lost. They were not there. Michael looked over
at Maria, and despite her efforts to stay calm, he could see the tears in her
eyes. Sighing, he resigned himself to the inevitable. He was going to have to
meddle.
“C’mon. Don’t cry.” Michael took Maria’s
hand and went to get her rings back. Stan followed them, confused by where
Michael was taking Maria.
“The thief stole my rings! You told me to leave
nothing valuable in the room, and I should’ve gave you my rings.”
“Maria, calm down. I’m getting them back.”
“You’re going to work the case?”
Michael sighed, scratching his brow. “Yeah, sorry
about that. I promised you a vacation with no detection, but this will only take
a moment, I promise.”
“I don’t care about the vacation! I care about
my rings. I loved them…because you gave them to me.”
Michael entered the lounge car with Maria and Stan,
and he looked around, quickly finding what he was looking for. Maria frowned
when they stopped next to the Parishes.
“You know,” said Michael. “I wasn’t going to
concern myself with this incident since no one asked me to help, but when you
took Maria’s rings, you made this personal. She’s very emotional
lately…”
“It’s the pregnancy,” Maria offered in her
defense.
“She’s emotional, and this would ruin her entire
vacation. I didn’t suffer through seven days of sheer hell to have this become
the worse moment of her life. Give her back her rings, so I don’t have to get
nasty.”
“You wouldn’t like him nasty!” Maria
threatened, but she quickly lowered her voice, and whispered to Michael, “Are
you sure? I mean they’re old people.”
Michael rolled his eyes. All these years, you would
think his trusty assistant would learn to trust him without question. Taking the
walker, he ignored the protests from the Parishes. Unscrewing the end of leg, he
poured out jewelry and cash. He found Maria’s wedding rings in the third leg.
“My rings!” Maria quickly went to retrieve them,
but Michael beat her swiping them up off the floor, and the other pile of
ill-gotten loot.
Taking her hand, he slowly put them back where they
belonged, the place he originally put them a few years ago. Kissing her hand, he
told her, “Let’s keep them where they belong.”
Maria kissed him hard, not caring who was watching.
“I love you!”
The Parishes never made it to
~~~
Michael looked at his watch not in the least bit
discretely. Sighing, he answered everyone’s questions.
“So what made you suspect them first? I mean, they
were so old and slow. I’d never imagine them possible of doing such a
thing.” Marge said as she ate her second slice of pineapple upside down cake.
“That looks really good!” Maria looked around
for the steward. Maybe, just one more dessert wouldn't hurt. Michael put her
hand down, holding it firmly in his. “Michael, I want…”
“You already had three. You didn’t even finish
your meal.”
Maria’s nose wrinkled. Huffing she resigned
herself to no more dessert. It was hard to understand, but she had an insatiable
desire for sweet, spicy, and salty. Meat and vegetables did not belong in any of
those categories, so she tended to not finish her meals.
“Peanuts?”
“Maria, stop distracting Michael.” Marge said.
“Well,” she smiled pleadingly at Michael.
“They moved too slow. Mrs. Parish said that her
husband had been using the walker for ten years, and yet it was new, too heavy
for him to move comfortably, and he walked awkwardly with it.”
“That’s it?” Mortie snorted. Hell, he could
have figured that out.
“That, and I folded up the walker for them. When I
picked it up, I noticed the heavy weight, which was not evenly distributed to
every leg of the walker. One at the time was still hollow.” Michael scratched
his brow, frowning. Maria needed to be in bed soon. “Also, they never went on
the tours because of Carl not being able to keep up, so they were left behind
often, giving them access to the staterooms.”
“Oh!” said the group, seemingly happy with
Michael’s explanation. Stan had informed them that according to the
authorities, the husband and wife team had a long sheet as frauds and
pickpockets.
“So like Hercules!” said Carol.
Maria waited until they were almost back to their
room before she made a comment. She stared down the corridor that they had seen
the Parishes exiting before. “You saw them coming out of a room that wasn’t
theirs.”
“Yep. And Mr. Parish wasn’t using his walker.”
“You didn’t mention that to the group.”
Michael snorted. “A good investigator does not
have to reveal all his techniques.”
“Uh huh.” Maria hid a smile. ”People don’t
see what they believe to be improbable.”
“Exactly. They had the perfect camouflage. Who is
going to suspect a couple in their seventies?”
Maria made a distracted noise in her throat. She was
staring at her rings. “Thank you, Michael. Thank you for finding my rings.”
“I wouldn’t have let them take them, don’t
worry.”
“I know, but you didn’t want this to be ruined
by work, and…”
“It’s okay. I don’t like to see you unhappy.
We’ve done that enough in our past.”
“We have.” Maria licked her lips. “Do you even
know why you brought me on vacation?”
“Of course I do. I’m the World’s
Greatest…”
“Yeah, yeah. I heard.” Maria pulled him down on
the bed made up for them; it was their last night on the train. Searching his
eyes, she touched his face, her hands moving gently over the features. “You
could have told me that you were having problems.”
Michael made a face. “I’m not really.” His
hand went to her stomach. “I had a hand in this too, remember? I was fully
aware what making a baby entailed.”
“Then what's bothering you?” Michael sat away
from her and Maria frowned as his eyes became suspiciously bright. “Can’t
you tell me?”
“Maria…” Michael cleared his throat. “I…I
know that having children today, it’s not such a dangerous prospect for women,
not like it use to be.”
“But?”
“No one knows about an alien child.” Michael
closed his eyes for a moment. “Sometimes, I think about losing you, waking up
one day, you’re gone, and I can’t…” Michael stopped talking for a
moment. He swallowed hard. He couldn't finish it. He couldn't breathe. The
thought…
He was afraid. Not of being a father, or sharing
her, he was afraid of her dying.
Maria went to touch him, but her hands fell to her
lap and she looked at them. She could not offer him any reassurances. She didn't
know. He didn't know. That was the problem. They were facing a world of
possibilities.
“I can’t promise you that I’ll be okay.”
Michael nodded. He knew that. “Michael…” She finally touched him. “I can
promise you that no matter what happens, I wanted this more than anything. I
wanted to have this part of you in me, and if for unseen reason it goes terribly
wrong, for me, it will be worth it. You’re worth it to me.”
Michael made a sound of distress and quickly kissed
her. Mating their foreheads, he breathed in deeply. “I’m afraid. You know
how hard that is for me to admit.”
“I know.”
“I keep feeling that there's so little time left,
and I had so much I wanted to do with you, and what if…”
“I’m not afraid.” Maria said quickly. Michael
stopped talking for a moment. “It’s important that you know, that I’m not
in the least bit worried. I know this is going to go perfect, and we’ll have a
baby that will so quickly be grown and ready to leave home. One day we’ll wake
up, and wonder where all the time went, and how it slipped away unseen.”
Michael paled. “Leave home…”
“They do that. Usually around the age of eighteen,
or so I’ve been told.”
Michael swore, standing up, he paced the room.
“You can’t just unload these things on me! You know I don’t handle change
well.”
“Eighteen years, Michael, is a long time to adjust
to the fact your child will leave home. That is hardly an abrupt change.”
Michael snorted in derision. Great, now she gave him an entirely different
scenario to work himself into a worried frenzy.
Maria fluffed the pillows, stealing his as she lay
back on the bed listening to him obsessing over possible traumas and obstacles.
Life was good.
This
started as a comment on notoriety, and the cost associated with it. Actually, it
was more a comment on how easy it is in life to become complacent and settled to
the point that you forget to notice what is important. I believed that there
would never be a day that I would not have my trusty assistant in my life, and
suddenly I was hit by the possibility that might not be so.
Perhaps
it started when Simon lost his mother, Carly Garcia. She was there one day, and
gone the next, and he, a small child, was alone. It might have been Isabel’s
fear of losing Simon, a child of her heart that she had just found. I do not
know. Max and Liz broke up, and somehow something that seemed unbreakable was.
It was a reality check that I was not living in this perfect world, and things
happen, things go wrong.
I would
never be able to express in words to Maria how destroyed I would be to lose her,
but I see it every day when I look in my brother, Max’s, eyes. There is a
creeping despair, loneliness, and a lack of life and ambition. I look in his
eyes since he lost Liz and I see the shell I would be if Maria were to pass from
mine.
I love
the idea of being a father, but if I had to choose between my child and Maria…
Maria would win. I can father other children, adopt, or learn to be content
without them, but I could never learn to survive without Maria.
It is
an amazingly stark reality to realize that you opened your life and heart so
completely for one person, that without them in your life… there is no life.
Maria DeLuca-Guerin has become my one irreplaceable item. In this realization, I
believe I have found an understanding, a kinship to Max, one that I have not had
in years. I do not care what it takes, I will help him find his way back to Liz,
because in my world, my life, having Maria at my side is as natural as seeing
Max with Liz. I do not want to lose anything, not anymore.
Therefore,
this ends the case of the conductor's keys, and the deadhead that split east
from west. I have to say that it does not matter where you travel, or how you
get there, once you are there, then there you will be. That is a nutshell of my
life. I traveled long and hard, and when I got there, to Maria, it was where I
was, and where I wanted to be.
TBC:
Cases of the Key Missing A Lock, which
I would call, The Case of the Key Lacking A Container, Or A Will To Find It…
but since my assistant is watching… let’s just call it, The Case of the Key
Missing A Lock