Amateur Hour

Nina

Thanks to the call she had made, in advance, the furor of her homecoming was kept to a dull roar. Sissy had pulled her into a strong embrace. Hannah had received a hug and a kiss on the cheek, with her usual aplomb, though her eyes had been reddened from shedding joyful tears, long before Nina and Steph had arrived.

Only Raven had lost her mind, wanting to jump all over her mistress, with irrepressible canine glee. Nina took them all in hand, admonishing the dog to mind her manners, introducing Steph to the other two women, and setting Sissy to work on the vegetables, for the pot roast.

Leaving Hannah to contemplate the return of her flutes, she then herded Steph off to Ted’s study, for a lie down on the couch there. Her original plan had been to put her guest in the room Sissy was occupying, but Steph wouldn’t hear of it.

“You won’t be able to stretch out, on that,” Nina warned her.

“I don’t sleep, stretched out,” Steph smiled, then repressed a yawn.

“If you say so. I’ll get you a blanket, and a pillow.”

“I don’t really need either. I can make do, with one of these cushions, and it’s a little warm, for a blanket.”

“My castle, my rules,” Nina grinned. “I’ll get you a pillow, at least, and something light to cover up with.” Nina paused. Faintly, she could hear Hannah, playing one of the flutes she’d brought home. “And, I’ll ask Hannah not to —”

“Don’t, please. It’s pretty. Ted says she’s very accomplished.”

“She still wins competitions,” Nina replied, proudly. “I’ll ask her to keep it soothing, then.”

Once her weary guest was bedded down, Nina rolled up her figurative sleeves, to help Sissy with the veggies, peeling a laughable pile of sweet potatoes, herself. Anything, to keep her mind off the possibility of what Ted might do, to Gordon, if the old fool pressed the wrong button.

“That’s too many,” Sissy warned. “They won’t all fit into the roaster.”

“We’ll fry some of them, then, with cinnamon and brown sugar, for dessert.”

“It’s too early to worry about him, Nina-Bird,” Hannah remarked, from her place at the dining table.

“I’m not worried.”

“He didn’t leave the house, with murder, on his face.”

Nina was nonplussed. She hated to admit, in her heart of hearts, that Ted might be capable of that, most extreme, violence.

“Gordon is a bad man; a bad person,” Hannah resumed. “But, he’s still an elder, even if he is White. Ted wouldn’t shame me, or you, or his people, by abusing an elder.”

Scanning her mother-in-law’s face, Nina saw no doubt in it, and for the first time, all day, she felt comforted.

“Make one of your sweet potato loaves,” Hannah suggested. “The kind with the marshmallow frosting. Ted loves those.”
“That’s kind of a Thanksgiving dessert,” Nina observed.

“Exactly,” Hannah nodded, then picked up the cherry wood flute, and began to play another melody.

*******

Ted

Terminating the connection with Nina, Ted rubbed the back of his neck, where tension had begun to settle in. He wanted nothing more, than to go home; to be with his wife and celebrate her return.

It didn’t matter one bit that Stephanie would be there. The young woman had done well, and deserved to be celebrated, in her own right. Hell, he’d invite Janice and Liam to dinner, too. Nina would be particularly happy to see Janice.

With great reluctance, he turned back toward the glass doors, and stepped into the sitting room, where Gordon waited.

“I take it Nina made it home, safely?”

“She did.”

“Good, good. You chose well, for yourself; she’s a lovely girl, if very young.”

Ted stared at the old man, unmoved. It was a rap he’d heard, before, and it had long since ceased to bother him, from strangers and enemies.

“She is lovely,” he agreed. “And, she’s waiting for me, so I’ll be going, now.”

“Without hearing my proposal?”

“I’ve heard it. I’m not interested.”

“You realize that you’re now in a position to accomplish nothing, don’t you? You’ve been found out, and your personal mission has failed.”

“Is that your way of telling me, I’m fired? I’ll survive.”

“You’ll survive, when a particular farmhouse burns to the ground, in Georgia, but Liam and Janice Miles will be devastated. Liam’s sister won’t survive, nor will her husband. And, you’ll survive, when a particular young lady, in your employ, manages to wrap her car around a tree, on a nearly deserted road, in the middle of the night. Her partner isn’t likely to forgive you, though. As for your poor mother, well, all manner of unfortunate things can happen to a frail, elderly woman, in a wheelchair.” He paused, to allow his words to sink in.

“That’s some desperate posturing, there, Gordon,” Ted observed. He was still able to maintain his outward calm despite his horror.

“It’s your alternative inheritance, so to speak. You may choose, and take responsibility for your choice. Oblige me, now, or pray daily for my continued good health. No, wait — too late for that. I haven’t been in good health for some years, have I?”

“Your heir is anyone you name. You have nieces and nephews. I’m sure that sick fuck, Robert, would be thrilled to inherit your operation.” Ted struggled with his fury, to keep his voice level, despite the expletive that had managed to escape.

“Robert is a cull. His own father has no use for him, and I haven’t much.”

“Yet, you took him on. What does that say, about you?”

“It says that I know how to use another man’s vices to make him useful, to me, as well as his virtues. They’re merely opposite sides of the same coin, after all. Robert is a grasping, over-educated panderer. I’ve done nothing to disabuse him of his notion that he was in line to inherit everything I’ve built. He’d destroy it all, in six months, of course.”

“Sounds like a ‘you’ problem.”

“Actually, Theodore, it’s a ‘you’ problem. Robert doesn’t know the contents of my will, or my final instructions directed to my executor — the instructions regarding you and yours. But, he is that executor. That’s his inheritance, along with an account to cover the expenses, and a generous stipend, for himself. I expect he’ll be quite enthusiastic, in carrying out my wishes. He’s come to dislike you, intensely. All that will be required of him, would be to make a series of phone calls, on a set schedule, and pay some fees.”

“Unleashing a series of catastrophes, on me.”

“No, not on you. You’re not to be touched. You’re my son. Your birth certificate says so, at least.”

“I’m not your son.”

Gordon only smiled at this assertion. “You have the rest of my life, to decide that. For now, I won’t keep you any longer from your pretty little wife, and her pot roast. Do give her my regards.”

*******

Ted pulled the digital recorder out of his inside breast pocket, and tossed it onto the passenger seat, before pulling his seatbelt across his chest. He hoped the wireless button mic had picked up all of the conversation. The recorder had seemed a dubious prospect, but he’d taken a leap of faith and purchased it, anyway. He’d had still less faith in his ability to make it work. Stephanie had been a godsend, in that regard.

She hadn’t laughed at the thing, when he’d shown it to her, in the cafe parking lot. Rather, she had inspected it, nodded her approval of it, and hooked him up, for sound, with the ease of an expert.

Unbidden, Ted’s mind conjured an image of a dark, lonely road, and the specter of a white Ford Mustang, merged with a tree, and he shuddered. People who didn’t know him, often made the mistake of marking him for an unfeeling man. Such people were wrong.

Gordon’s threats, specific and implied, sickened him; even terrified him. He had never met Liam’s sister, to be sure, but Nina had, and had liked her, very much. Nina was never wrong about people.

A groan escaped him, as he drove. This was all his doing, and there was no escaping it. If he had only left Janice alone, to fend for herself, she and Liam might have eventually quit their jobs, at New Canaan, and moved on. Of course, he’d thought he could be Janice’s port in a storm, and Liam’s too. Arrogance. It was the one thing he’d never lacked.

He wasn’t entirely to blame, for Guy and Stephanie, but he held a share. Stephanie had volunteered her assistance. He should have flatly refused. His only excuse was that he’d been mad with worry over Nina. Even now, it almost sufficed, as a reason. Stephanie had been invaluable, and it wasn’t his fault Gordon was a madman.

But, I knew he was a madman. Only a lunatic kidnaps another man’s wife, just to have a word with him. Face it — you were willing to trade Stephanie’s safety, for Nina’s.

And, what about her partner? That poor, brave, smartassed, little bastard, he’d allowed to languish, where he was. He’d have to remember to tell Liam to collect Guy, when he got Franklin Riley out, if Guy hadn’t thought of it, himself.

*******

Nina

All was not well with her husband. Nina realized it, almost from the moment he walked in the door. She had expected him to look tired, and he did. She had expected him to be angry, and he seemed to be that, too. What she hadn’t expected, was the hint of defeat, in his face.

“Is he still alive, today?” Hannah asked, with her usual sarcasm. This time, of course, the question was more for Nina’s benefit, than her own.

“He was, when I left him,” Ted shrugged, dropping his keys into the bowl, by the door. His face brightened a bit, when he caught sight of his wife, where she stood, at the entrance to the kitchen. “Something smells good,” he smiled, holding out his arms in an invitation.

“Something with lots of sweet potatoes,” Sissy announced, as Nina went to him, to be hugged.

Ted’s answer was to smile down into Nina’s eyes, and plant a light kiss on the tip of her nose.

“How do you feel about asking Janice and Liam to join us?” he asked her.

“I’d like that,” she said, a bit surprised. “As long as it doesn’t turn into another pizza party.”

He laughed, and it was a good laugh. Nina felt her heart lighten, a bit. Maybe he really was just tired. Dealing with Gordon, was draining.

“I need a shower,” he remarked. “I feel like I’ve been wallowing in mud.”

“You look like you could use a nap, too.” Normally, she wasn’t so bold about expressing opinions regarding Ted’s health, in front of other people, but the observation popped out of her mouth, before she thought to stop it.

“I probably could,” he admitted, unconcerned. “A short one, anyway. Where did you put Stephanie, by the way?”

“On the couch, in the study. She wouldn’t take a bed.”

“If she’s still there, she must be comfortable enough. I hope she doesn’t run off, before I get a chance to talk to her.”

“I won’t let her,” Nina promised.

“I was talking to Hannah and Sissy.”

Nina blushed.

“Don’t I deserve a little time, with you, too?” he teased.

“Ted!” she exclaimed, scandalized.

“I can call Janice and Liam,” Hannah volunteered. “And, I can’t wait to have a nice talk with Stephanie. I want to know how much the detective shows get wrong.”

“Is that safe?” Nina glanced at the smoke detector above her head.

“I pulled the plug on Gordon’s microphones, this morning,” Ted replied, with satisfaction. “The gloves are off, now.”

*******

Steph

There seemed to be a lively game of grab-ass going on, behind one closed bedroom door, as Steph passed it, evidenced by a giggling shriek and an accusation of being “soaked, now!”, in Nina’s voice, and something suggestively muttered, in Ted’s.

Steph smirked, a little. Nice to know the guy could lighten up, from time to time. In the living room, she found Hannah on the phone, and recognized Janice’s voice, on the other end.

The upshot of the conversation was that the Mileses were on their way over, without stopping at their own house, first, and everyone was to dine at Ted’s. Including herself.

Steph’s preference would have been to slip away, and head back to Cottonwood. Nina’s roast smelled delicious, and there was a lingering scent of some dessert she had baked, as well, which was no less enticing. All the same, Steph preferred being left to her own devices, when she wasn’t with her little family, at home.

Added to that, she didn’t want to miss out on Guy’s evening call. She knew Ted would have audio that he’d want to share, and she wanted to hear it — almost as much as she wanted to wash the sticky, greasy bug repellent off herself (which had been one of the reasons she hadn’t wanted to lie down on any of Nina’s clean sheets.)

She had rested fairly well, on the deep, plush sofa. The upholstery had seen better days, but the thing had been comfortable. Still, her clothes felt wilted and stale, from her hike through the woods, her subsequent camp-out in the humid pre-dawn air, and all the perspiring she had done, since daybreak.

Getting messy was something she didn’t mind, but staying messy and grubby, was another matter.

“Sounds like you’re having company, for dinner,” Steph observed, when Hannah had hung up. “I should probably shove off.”

“No such thing,” Hannah scoffed. “You’re on the guest list, right at the top. Sit down, Stephanie, and tell me what makes a good detective. You are a good one, after all.”

“I — well…” Steph did think she was a reasonably good investigator, but it was peculiar to hear anyone but Guy say so. She could feel herself blushing. “I suppose the main ingredient, for a good detective, is nosiness.”

Hannah guffawed at this, delighted. “I always thought so! None of the TV detectives can mind their own business. Oh, I know, most of that is made up hooey. But, some of it has to be based on facts. What else, besides brains — that part is obvious.”

“Discretion. You have to be able to keep some of the secrets you know, maybe for the rest of your life. Also, it doesn’t hurt to be able to guess what people are really up to. You, for example, Ma’am. I suspect Ted has asked you to discourage me, from leaving.”

“Guilty,” Hannah grinned, not offended, in the least. “He doesn’t want you to go, without thanking you. I want to thank you, too. Nina’s the heart of our home and family.”

“Ted knew the house. He would have figured it out, sooner rather than later.”

“For all he knew, Gordon had moved, again. It would have taken longer, if not for you. And, he would have gone in, temper blazing, without the video you took. It could have ended badly.”

“I’m… glad to have helped,” Steph shrugged. She was abashed at the praise, and she fidgeted, in her seat. After a moment, she said, “I heard you playing, as I was drifting off. It was beautiful.”

“Why, thank you. I’m old, but I still have plenty of wind left, I guess,” Hannah chuckled. “My father made flutes, from the river cane he grew. He made other things, too, but our house was full of flutes. It was his hobby. They weren’t as fancy as these,” she indicated the two on an end table, next to her chair. “A cane flute is simple, but it has a very nice sound. We kids used to enjoy decorating ours. Kids don’t always see the beauty of something plain.”

“They don’t realize that an Easter egg is just an egg?” Steph smiled.

“Until they eat it. Then they realize that they’re not disappointed.”

“You bought those fancy ones, though.”

“I support Native arts,” Hannah shrugged. “These are the real deal, created by Native artisans. Not that I wouldn’t play a flute made by anyone else, if it was a good one. I want to give Nina one of these. Which do you think it should be?”

The question surprised her.

“You know her better than I do. But I suppose she’d like the one she was playing, when I saw her, this morning.”

“The cherry is prettier,” Hannah pointed out.

“She was playing the other one. She had access to both, but chose it.”

Hannah grinned, again. “You are smart. The maple is in her favorite key. She should definitely have that one.” She regarded Steph, for a moment, then held out her hands, palms up. “Let me see your hands, dear.”

Steph complied, placing her hands in Hannah’s. She had broken a fingernail, earlier, but at least they were clean.

“Small, but long fingered,” Hannah mused, studying them. She said something to Sissy, in Miccosukee. The young woman nodded, and left the room.

When she came back, Sissy was carrying a long, narrow bag. Steph shifted in her seat again, somewhat aghast. It was obviously a flute bag. Sissy handed it to her, with a big smile, and a nod.

“Hannah —” Steph began.

“It was one of my father’s. I have several, still.”

“I really appreciate it, but it would be wasted on me. I don’t play.”

“Have you ever tried?”

“Of course not.”

“Then, how do you know? Have a look at it, at least.”

Steph tugged the drawstring of the blanket material of the pouch, and gently drew out the flute.

“It won’t bite you, and it’s not fragile. It’s cane. Very tough.”

“And very pretty,” Steph said, turning it in her hands to admire the satiny sheen of lacquered surface.

“The holes should be spaced just about right, for your fingers. The third one from the top should stay closed, covered, for the most part. Cover all the holes, for now, and give it a good, steady blow. Just a little more than a normal exhale.”

Steph raised the instrument to her lips, and closed them over the end of the flute, which had no mouthpiece, just an opening, the same diameter as the rest of the flute, and blew gently, with her fingers over the holes. To her astonishment, a solid note rang out, sweet and vibrant.

“Sounds to me like you could play it,” Hannah observed. “Now, try a longer breath, and bring your fingers up, one by one, from the bottom, except for that ring finger, then back down, from the top.”

Steph did, and with the exception of one squeaky note, at the end, was very pleased.

“You’ll learn, by muscle memory, just where the holes are, with practice. Do more than just scales, though. Mix it up, and have fun. You can find teachers, on your own computer, these days.”

“Hannah, it’s too much, really. Your father —”

“My father made flutes, the way some men whittle. He sold a few, and gave many away.”

“Well, thank you. I’ll treasure it.”

“Play it, once in a while, too.”

“I think I will,” Steph smiled.

“I call cultural appropriation,” Ted laughed, coming into the room, with Nina at his elbow.

“Stop that, Ted,” she admonished him. “He’s teasing you, Steph. Aren’t you, Mr. English Literature?”

“You want another fully clothed shower?” he threatened, in good humor. “I am playing with you, Stephanie. A culture that can’t bear to be shared, isn’t a very strong culture. This panel of Native Americans says: Enjoy your new flute.”

“Let’s put it with your bag, so you won’t forget it,” Nina suggested.

Steph followed her, back to the study, though she could have found her own way, easily. She wondered if Nina wanted a word with her. As it turned out, she did.

“I got to thinking, when I was getting Gordon’s home cleaned off me, that you’ve had quite a day, too,” Nina opened, when they were alone. “Would it be tactless for me to ask you, if you’d like to have a nice, hot scrub?”

“I would like that, so much!” Steph exclaimed, laughing.

Nina’s earnest face relaxed, into a smile. “I can hook you up, then. We’re about the same size, but your legs are longer. I think I can find you a skirt, and a blouse,” she offered.

“That’s too much trouble, Nina.”

“Hardly! After what you did for me, today? It’s the least I can do.”