Tweety ate two bowls of Cheerio’s and carried on a predominantly one sided conversation with Jackie. “She said she’d call me Tweety.” Another spoonful of cereal disappeared into her mouth. “Would you call me Tweety too, Jackie?”

“Of course honey, but I thought you only wanted your special friends to call you that.”

Drake settled her hand beside the bowl and stared at the woman who sat across from her. “Aren’t you a special friend Jackie? Don’t you want to be my friend any more?”

“Drake honey I am your friend. You have lots of friends at CTI as well. But not everyone can be a special friend.”

“Why?”

“Because special friends mean just that. They are more special than your other friends.”

“But you are more special. I like you more than I like Bradley or Lisabeth. Doesn’t that make you special?”

Oh my, when did she start becoming logical. The woman smiled. “Yes Tweety you are absolutely correct. And I’m proud to be one of your special friends.”

In an effort to understand just what the mentally challenged woman used to discriminate between special friends and just friends, which seemed to include everyone the woman knew, Jackie continued. “What’s the difference between me and Bradley? Why am I a special friend and he’s not? I thought you liked Bradley.”

“Oh I do, he’s my friend.” She stopped and her brow furrowed as she thought. “But I . . .” She searched for the words to explain. “I don’t talk to him about,” she dropped her head, “some things like I do you.”

Jackie felt Drake’s need to get off the subject, “so that’s really nice that your trains are going to have a new home. That was very nice of Toni to do that.”

Drake nodded. “Yeah. Maybe I can play with them today.”

“Today is a workday Drake.”

“Maybe I can play with them after work today.”

“Maybe,” Jackie rinsed the dishes and utensils and placed them in the dishwasher.

“How come you’re not dressed to go to work Jackie?”

“Toni asked if I would meet the moving men at the house. I’ll go to work for a few hours and then go meet them. I
thought it best to wear slacks today.” The secretary opened the door to the garage and turned to the taller woman, “coming?”

“Yeah,” Drake pulled an apple from the fruit bowl and slipped another into her jacket pocket as she passed into the garage and entered the vehicle.

“Hi Bradley,” Drake placed the one piece of mail for one of the receptionists on the desk and continued toward the elevators.

“Hey what are you doing here?” Bradley hustled toward her.

“I’m delivering the mail.”

“I thought you were fired.”

Confusion clouded the woman’s blue eyes, “no I’m delivering the mail. I’ve got to go.” She waved and continued to the elevators. “Bye,” she shot behind her.

“Holy smoke,” Bradley immediately got on the phone. “Yeah, she’s here at work. Guess the rumor was wrong. You’d better come in and call Les, Angie, Felix and Rex.” He hung up and made several other calls.

Jackie straightened the items on her desk as she held the phone against her shoulder, “Lisabeth come back to work. She’s not fired.” She listened for a few seconds then looked up as Drake settled the mail on the center of her desk where she liked it. “Drake you can go on in.” She listened, “yes she’s here. Good. Call as many of the others as you can and get in here.”

Drake knocked lightly on the door and entered when she heard Toni’s voice. Drake settled the mail in the little box Toni had indicated and turned to leave. She turned back and watched the smaller woman as she stood at the widow staring out. Drake cleared her throat like she’d noticed other people did when they wanted to get someone’s attention and was pleased when it worked.

“Thank you Tweety.”

Drake smiled broadly. Yeah. She called me Tweety. She’s my friend. But she’s sad. “Are you sad Toni?”

The blonde turned toward the taller woman and smiled as she wiped the remnants of tears from her face. “Yes a little. I just got some bad news.”

Okay now what do I do. Oh yeah. Tweety sat in the chair, “do you want to talk to someone about it. I’m a real good listener Toni. You can talk to me.”

The executive sat in her chair behind the desk and smiled, “can I take a rain check on that Tweety?”

Drake looked out the window confused. “But it’s not raining and I didn’t buy lunch yet.”

Toni laughed, “oh Drake,” she rose from the chair circled the desk and bent down to hug the woman. “You’re refreshing.”

“Huh?”

“A rain check is something they give you when you get your car washed. If it rains the same day or the next day you can give them the check, the receipt, and get your car washed again. That’s why they call it a rain check. Nowadays it’s something you say when you want to do what someone asks, but just not now.”

“Oh,” Drake stood, “okay I’ll take a rain check on that Toni.” She left the office and continued her deliveries on the executive floor. Part of her duties included immediate deliveries of interoffice mail and packages. Today there seemed to be twice as many interoffice deliveries than usual which kept the woman busy the entire morning.

Detective Francis met Jackie at the house to facilitate the removal of Drake’s trains as well as assuring the only part of the house accessed by the movers was the train room, stairs and the narrow area allowing them to get from the front door to the stairs which were directly across from it. The living room to the right and kitchen to the left were cordoned off by yellow police tape. Jackie watched as police techs gathered on either side gathered evidence, took pictures, made video tapes and drew sketches of the area. “We usually don’t allow anything be removed from the site of a homicide.” Frances glanced at the woman watching the techs.

“Thank you. This means alot to Drake.”

“I know.” The detective pushed the yellow tape up as she bent over and entered the kitchen. “Just let me know when the fellows come to get the trains.” Jackie nodded as Frances disappeared down the steps into the basement.

Harvey Millstein was taller than most pro basketball players. At 6’10” he towered over everyone in the basement. His blonde hair perpetually fell over his forehead and into his eyes and he was forever scooping it back with quick fingers.
"Detective Francis,” he nodded to the woman who dwarfed him by at least one and a half feet.

“Nice to see you’re on the case Harve.” She shook her head, “this is becoming more complicated every day. Know who he is?”

The tall detective pulled his notepad and read from it, “Raymond Taggert, age 52, domicile currently unknown. Had nothing on him,” he looked at the woman beside him, “as you know. Got the info from his prints.”

“Record?”

The big man laughed, “going back to his teens. Lately though he’s been raking in some big bucks according to the IRS, who incidentally is also investigating him.” She nodded and the man continued, “We’re working on getting his financials and locating his domicile. Hopefully we’ll have more to go on once we search that.”

“Good.” The woman nodded and looked up a the much taller man, “Harve I’d like to thank you for allowing the trains be removed. It really means alot to the woman who owns them.”

He held up his hand, “say nothing more Frances. Carter and Delgado told me about what she went through.” The man smiled, “and her ummm . . .”

“How special she is?”

“Exactly.”

“Excuse me Detective Francis?” A uniformed officer called from the top of the basement stairs and continued when Frances looked up, “there’s a group here to pick up a train set?”

“Be right there.” She nodded to Millstein and took the stairs two at a time.

Jimmie watched the four men struggle with one section of the thick plywood foundation of the train set up from the
Chevelle he’d stolen earlier in the day. He saw Jackie stand beside the large truck, “Damn bitch. She’s gonna wreck everything.” He regarded the woman as she returned behind the movers as they wrestled another large section of the substructure into the van.

As Jackie moved into the street to give the men room to handle the large piece Jimmie made his decision. He started the vehicle and peeled toward the woman leaving hot rubber on the street. Jackie turned just as she heard the squeal of tires to see the enraged face of the man she knew as Jimmie Bright. Just at that moment Frances stepped through the front door and watched in horror as the light blue vehicle bore down on the secretary. The movers made a final push shoving the piece into the van and themselves to safety. The sound of flesh and bone against metal was something everyone who heard it knew they’d never forget. As the car swerved and raced down the street one of the movers ran after it. Frances made an immediate call for paramedics and approached the woman who lay  crumpled at the bottom of the tree her body had struck. “I called the EMT’s Jackie, just don’t move.”

“Jimmie Bright,” she searched the eyes of the woman above her as blood slowly dribbled from her mouth and nose.

The detective did not want to move the woman but knew there was no way she would survive. She lifted Jackie’s head onto her lap and stroked the blonde hair and forehead. “We’ll get him. Don’t worry about that.” She read the unspoken fear in the woman’s eyes. “And we’ll make sure Drake is safe. Don’t worry about that either.” Frances felt the woman relax in her arms, felt a  final shiver and knew the woman was gone.

The mover who had chased after the vehicle stopped over her gasping as he bent over, his hands on his knees, trying to get his breath. “Got the license plate number.” He gasped. “She de . . . oh shit.” The man sank to his knees. “Holy shit.”

The paramedics arrived and quickly brought a stretcher placing Jackie’s body on it. Two police cruisers arrived to take the information they’d require for their reports.

Frances answered questions and made her own notes then faced the movers. “Okay, I know you’re a bit unsettled,” she smirked, “so am I. But your job is to get that train setup out of this house and to CTI. I suggest you finish your job.” She turned and entered the house as the men spoke among themselves then returned to their work.

“Harve it’s now a double homicide.” The detective rubbed the back of her neck.

“Shit,” the man practically spit.

The men continued with their work and packed the trains in boxes. They placed the extra track, trains and accessories stored in the closet of what had been the train room into the van and approached Frances for instructions. “Just take the load to CTI. I’ll meet you there.” She turned to go to her car then turned back to the men, “oh, and if a tall woman with long dark hair asks you anything,” she deepened her voice, “anything about what happened today you are to say nothing.”

“How will we know her?”

Frances snickered, “she’ll be the one you want to take home to mother.” The men looked back and then at each other as she entered and started her vehicle. While three men got into the cab of the van the fourth hopped onto his motorcycle and followed.

Jimmie dumped the car at a strip mall and found an old Volvo with the keys still in it. Stupid people. He chuckled as he turned the vehicle onto the street.

“Hey you idiot that’s my car,” a young teen yelled from the market he’d just stepped out of. He turned to his four friends behind him, “that jerk just stole my car.”

“Come on Lennie, let’s go after him.” Lennie jumped into the back seat of his friend’s convertible quickly followed by another. Two others got into another car and the vehicles squealed from the lot onto the street and racing to catch up to the stolen Volvo. “There,” one of the boys pointed left, he turned into that street.”

“Should we call the cops?” Lennie glanced at Greg who was driving.

“Sure,” the driver smiled, “after we get our licks.” He checked the rearview mirror, “Willie and Matt are still behind us.”
Lennie turned to check and waved.

“What the shit he waving for,” Matt quickly fastened his seat belt as Willie took the left turn on abused tires.

“Shit if I know. Hey,” he pointed to the glove box, “there’s a cell phone in there. Call the cops.”

“Got it.” Matt pulled the phone and dialed 911.

Jimmie heard the squeal of tires behind just as he was about to turn into Taggert’s driveway. The man twisted the wheel of the car and skidded across the lawn desperately trying to keep the vehicle under control as he maneuvered back onto the street and continued on.

“Shit,” Greg had nearly hit the car as it swung back onto the roadway.

“Maybe we should slow down Greg and let the cops handle it.” Lennie fastened his seat belt as did George in the back seat.

“No way,” Greg continued the chase.

“Okay Willie,” Matt held the phone to his ear, “they said to just stay where we are. It’s dangerous trying to chase him.”

“Right,” Willie slowed the vehicle and stopped in front of the house with major lawn damage. “Tell them where we are and where they’re heading.”

Detective Francis picked up her mike, “dispatch get me Sergeant Garcia.”

“LT what can I do for you?”

“I need a favor Johnny. Can you assign Carter and Delgado to my team and have them meet me at CTI in civvies ASAP?”

“You don’t ask for much do you? Let me see,” she heard the shuffle of papers, “yeah, can do. But it’ll cost you.”

“What?” He relayed his request. “Not the Rangers opening day. But you can have the next two.”

“They just walked in for their shift. I’ll tell them now. Oh and Frances could you include the parking pass this time?”

“Yeah, yeah,” My Mavericks seats and the Rangers. This better be worth it.

“Their on the way.” She heard him chuckle, “thanks LT. My sons and I will have a few dogs and think of you.”

“Just how I dreamed it would be Garcia.”

She parked the unmarked car in a spot and informed the parking attendant of the delivery requesting he have the men escorted to the 20th floor where she would arrange to have them met by the building maintenance crew. Then she took the stairs to the lobby, flashed her badge at a young man whose nametag read “Bradley” at the reception desk and asked for Ms. Ramsden.

“I’ll call security and have them take you up.”

The detective leaned her back against the high walled desk waiting for her escort. Behind her a short round little man approached. “Is that who I think it is?” The detective turned quickly at the familiar voice. “Why if it isn’t Frances Squared,” he chuckled and the two embraced.

“Michael,” she squeezed the older man, “it’s so nice to see you again.”

“You the one going to the 14th floor?” The detective nodded and the two walked arm in arm to the elevators. “So what’s been happening?”

“Working a case.”

“You still in homicide?” The woman shook her head. “I told you you’d hate it.” He inserted the key and turned it.
“Damn bodies all the time. I hated it too.”

“Yeah, it finally go to me. It was the kids. Ten, twelve year olds killing each other for sneakers or a jacket.” She shook her head in an effort to dispel the memory. “How long you been with CTI?”

“Peach of a job kiddo. I tell you Palmer was a great guy to work for. Let me handle security issues however I wanted. Now, this new one, Ramsden, she’s something else.” He shook his white topped head.

“Sounds like you don’t see eye to eye with her.”

“It’s not really that, she’s just different.” He chuckled, “and you know us old dogs. We hate adjusting to new things.
And she’s new. Runs a tight ship. She rubs the big wigs, or those who used to be big wigs under Palmer, the wrong way. She tells them to implement something or other and it doesn’t get done she’s on their case faster than fleas on a dog in the summer. But she knows how to use people well. One of our VP’s hates traveling. Guy is scared of flying. She wanted him to go to Greece to handle one of our first international contracts. She got the Human Resources Manager to talk to his wife. Seems they went to school together or something. Anyway she lets slip that VP’s get to take their spouse on the international trips and the poor guy was caught. There was no way his wife would let a chance go by that she couldn’t go to Greece on the company.”

The elevator opened to the 14th floor where Frances and Michael said their goodbyes with promises to call. The detective made her way to Toni’s office where she was pleased the door was open. Her stomach turned sour when she caught the sound of Drake’s distinctive voice.

“. . .gonna be here with my trains?”

“They’ll be here Tweety.” The executive caught sight of Frances, who shook her head. “Drake why don’t you go see Lisabeth. I think she told me she wanted to teach you how to run the fax machine.”

“Really Toni? The fax machine?”

“Of course, only if you want to.”

“Oh Toni, I want to. Can I go now?”

“Yes, I call to tell her you’re on the way.”

“Okay.” The woman practically ran from the room stopping only to acknowledge the detective. “Hi Francis I’m going to learn how the fax machine works so I can run it. Neat huh?”

“Yes.” She entered the office and closed the door as Toni made a call.

“Lisabeth I’ve sent Drake to you on the ruse that you’ll teach her how to run the fax machine. Keep her there as long as
you can please.” The woman listened. “Yes, that would be great. Thank you.” She hung up and watched the detective plop herself into a chair. “It seems you have some bad news. The trains?”

“No.” She took a deep breath and released it. “Jackie Cavanuagh is dead.”

“Oh my god.” Toni sank into the leather executive chair. “How?”

“Bright. Hit and run outside the house. Last I heard there was a chase by some kids whose car he stole. We have officers on it as well.”

“Drake will be devastated.” The executive held her temples and for the umpteenth time prayed her headache would go away.

“Drake could be a target.” The detective stretched out her legs and slouched in the chair.

“Why?”

Frances shrugged her shoulders. “Who knows? We don’t even know for sure, but I’d rather be on the safe side. I’m bringing in some of my people to stay with her round the clock. If it’s okay with you I’d like them to be able to watch her here as well.”

“No problem. I can have Jane give them badges just as if they were employees. That will keep the gossip to the minimum.” Toni picked up the phone, “Jane could you bring down Jackie Cavanaugh’s personnel file?” She nodded,
“thank you. Yes, now would be fine.” She looked at the officer sitting across from her. “I guess we’ll have to notify her next of kin. Or do you do that?”

“We can do it.” Frances rubbed her forehead. Oh goody my favorite job in the whole wide world. Shit now I’m starting to sound like Drake. As long as it’s only in my mind.

The tap at the door brought Toni’s head up, “come in.”

Jane Clarke bustled into the office a folder in her hand. “Is there anything specific you’re looking for?”

“Next of kin.”

“Oh.” The woman quickly flipped the pages and spread the open folder on the executive desk. “She has a sister in Des Moines.” She lifted her head back and thought. “From what I remember they weren’t close. I recall because she made her insurance beneficiary the A.S.P.C.A.” The woman chuckled, “her sister hated cats.”

“Thank you Jane.”

“Is something wrong with Jackie?”

Toni fidgeted and glanced at the detective. Frances cleared her throat, “Ms. Cavanaugh was killed today in a hit and run.”

“What?” Jane had to hold onto the desk to remain standing. “Oh my God.”

Immediately Toni stood and helped the woman to a chair. “W . . . we started working with Mr. Palmer on the same
day.” She wiped tears from her cheeks. “We’ve known each other forever.” The distressed woman shook her head. “I just don’t believe it. It’s senseless.”

“Jane,” Toni squatted beside the woman’s chair until she collected herself. “Would you prepare a memo to the employees for my signature.”

The woman nodded, “yes, of course.” She rose and quietly left the office.

The executive turned to the large window. “Jackie’d been with the company forever.”

“According to Drake she and Palmer had a thing going.”

Toni quickly turned, “really?”

“Speaking of which. What about Drake? She was staying with Jackie. Now what?”

“That’s not my problem.” Toni turned to look out the other window of the corner office.

“You would think that as half owner of the company, the company you also own half of, that you would make it your business.”

“You’re so concerned why don’t you take care of her.” She spun around to face the detective. “At least that way you can protect her.”

“Good idea. Not that I hadn’t considered it. But I thought you had a stake in her safety.”

Toni stiffened. “I am not a nursemaid to a . . .”

“I’d stop there if I were you.” The detective took a step into Toni’s personal space, “she’s not quite as stupid as you think. Ignorant yes. But she has a mind that wasn’t given a chance to develop fully.”

“And how do you know so much about retards Detective?”

Frances dropped her head then raised it looking straight into the executive’s eyes. “Because my oldest brother is a lot like Drake.” She turned toward the door.

“I’m sorry,” it was almost a whisper. But the officer heard it and turned back to Toni.

“Not your fault.”

Toni’s shoulders fell and she ran her fingers through her hair, “I’m just so frustrated with it all. I get into town finalize the deal and three days after I meet him for the first time Andrew Palmer is dead. Not only that, it turns out the partner who owns the other half of the company is mentally retarded. Which is why he sold to me in the first place. Then my secretary ends up,” she nodded toward the detective, “with your assistance is rescuing her from an abusive employee. To make matters worse, said employee is mixed up with a porno film ring and is being investigated by the cops, the IRS, the FBI, Interpol and who knows who else.” She took a breath, “then my secretary is murdered by said employee and I am now the owner of half of a billion dollar company whose value, by the way, is sinking fast because I don’t seem to have the ability to get this damn place up and running.”

“Why?”

Frances leaned over her elbows on her knees. “Why did he sell to you in the first place?”

Toni rubbed her throbbing temples. “He uh, . . . it’s personal.”

The detective nodded. “And why don’t you seem to have the ability to get the place up and running?” She watched the
woman close her eyes for a moment, then turn and close the blinds a bit more to slightly darken the office. Frances stood, “I have to meet the movers on the 20th floor. I’d like building maintenance to help, if that’s okay.”

“Sure,” Toni stood slowly then sat back down and picked up the phone punching in a few numbers. “Craig can you get some men to Palmer’s old office to help set up Drake’s trains.” She nodded and smiled then hung up. “When it comes to Drake everyone jumps.” The smile swiftly disappeared.

Frances watched the woman closely. She’s hurting. Why the hell do so many people insist on being so macho? The detective mentally shook her head. “Do you want me to take Drake up there to watch?” She looked at her watch.
"Damn, I need to check on Carter and Delgado, see if they’ve arrived yet.”

Toni held her hand up, “wait,” she dialed then spoke, “Bradley are there two men by the name of,” she looked at the detective, “Carter and . . .”

“Delgado.”

“. . . Delgado waiting?” She waited. “Have them come up to my office to meet with Detective Francis.” She nodded, “thank you.”

“They’ve been down there for about ten minutes.”

Toni paced the office, “so what’s the plan for Drake?”

“First we have to find a place for her to stay.”

“That’s no problem. The 19th floor is a penthouse. Evidently Palmer used it before Drake came into his life.” She pulled open a drawer and removed tablets from a Tylenol bottle. “So that’s no problem.”

As Toni filled a glass with water from the sink in the office ensuite Frances continued. “Great that will make it easier to watch her. Delgado and Carter will stay with her tonight and tomorrow I’ll get a couple of my female officers to come down and we’ll rotate.”

“How long will this last?”

“Until Bright is caught.”

“What if you don’t catch him?” Toni sat in her chair once again. “I mean, not to malign the police, but some do get away.”

“Actually whether Bright is caught or not it does seem that Drake should not be living alone. At least not right now. She just lost her brother and best friend. Someone she had trusted beat the crap out of her and all things considered she really doesn’t have the skills to be on her own. Not right now anyway.”

Toni did not like the direction this conversation was heading. “So?”

“So someone she knows well should stay with her, or she stay with them. However you want to put it.”

“No, no, no.” The executive shook her head. “I know what you’re getting at. I am not rooming with Drake.”

“From what I hear you’re having the 15th floor converted into an apartment for yourself. So you don’t have to be roomies. You’ll be in the same building on different floors. You can have an intercom set up. You can even hire a live in cook and maid for her for Christ’s sake.” Frances was becoming angry. What was worse was she didn’t know why.
"What the shit is the problem here.” She stopped and took a breath.

“Excuse me?”

Both women looked to the open door where Lisabeth stood with Drake cowering behind her. “I knocked,” she looked from one woman to the other, “Drake has sent fourteen faxes and wanted to know if Jackie was here with her trains yet.” The woman pulled the tall, raven haired woman by the arm and into the office.

Drake thought Toni must be angry with her again judging from the arguing she’d heard through the door. Her voice was soft, “I sent the faxes and I know how to do it now.” She tried to smile, but the fear that she’d again done something wrong prevented it from making it to her lips. The mentally challenged woman turned and walked from the office. “I gotta go deliver more mail.”

Lisabeth felt like a fifth wheel standing at the door, “well I’ll be getting back to work.” She silently closed the door.

Frances rose, “I’ll check on Drake and take her upstairs.”

“No,” Toni massaged her forehead. “Please just let her do her work.”

“I have to tell her about Jackie.”

Toni groaned. “I wonder how much she heard.”

“Funny,” the detective had her hand on the door knob, “I wonder how she felt.” Frances left the office in search of a woman called Tweety.

Toni leaned her head into her hands and choked on the sob welling up into her throat. What’s happening to me? Nothing is going right. How did I get into this mess? Hell I just wanted to buy a company. That’s what I do. I buy companies and strengthen them so they’ll be worth more. I’m not a corporate raider. What I do adds jobs not eliminate them. Toni began to pace again. She felt anger bubble up unable to determine where the feeling came from. She lifted the glass and swallowed the last of the water. I am not a bad person. She flung the glass against the door, “I am not a bad person,” and watched at it shattered sending sharp fragments every which way. “Damn you.” She yelled at the office. “Damn you.”

Philip pressed the beeper and called the number and listened carefully. “Thanks Lisabeth.” He ran to the stairs and took them two and three at a time until he reached the 14th floor. A gathering of employees outside Toni’s office parted as he approached. He heard the yelling and screaming inside and the distinctive sounds of breakable objects shattering.

Frances’ search for Drake eventually led her to the mail room in the basement. She scanned the area gathering quick glances from employees busy sorting mail. A middle aged man  approached the woman. “Excuse me, but this area is for authorized personnel only,” he held out one arm and motioned her back to the door.

Immediately the police officer slipped out her wallet allowing it to fall open revealing the gold badge of a detective. “I’m looking for Drake.” Everyone stopped and watched the twosome. “She’s not in trouble. I’m a friend of hers.” Frances looked into surprised faces that surrounded her. “Really,” she smiled, “do you know where she is?”

The man smiled. “You must be Frances,” he gently moved the officer to his office. “She came back just a few minutes ago. Very upset. Didn’t say a word, just left the outgoing and picked up the new deliveries.” He shrugged. “Sometimes when she’s upset she goes to her brother’s old office on 20.”

“Yes,” Frances nodded, “I’ve checked there already.”

The man pursed his lips in thought. “Have you tried the penthouse? It’s not in use anymore, but she does have a key.” He opened the center drawer of his desk and pulled out a keychain that held four keys. “Here,” he handed them to her.
“I’ll even lay you odds that’s where she is.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“That’s where she and Andy stayed when he first brought her home. They lived there until that idiot persuaded Andy to
buy a house. He claimed Drake always wanted a house. Drake always liked the apartment though. She loved looking down at the people and traffic and up at the clouds and sky.” He patted the woman’s arm, “try there. Use elevator 3, it’s the only one that stops at 19.” He opened the door for her.

Frances glanced through the keys noting the elevator key, a Schlage key which she assumed to be that of the front door, and two smaller keys. She called the number 3 elevator by inserting the key and rode it up to the 19th floor. The doors parted into a foyer with large oriental, fan backed chairs on either side of the huge mahogany double doors adorned with stained glass insets of peacocks. NBC would love this. She fingered the glass panels admiring the workmanship. The woman placed her hand lightly on the large brass door handle and pushed down the latch with her thumb. Unlocked. She’s here. Without realizing she’d been holding her breath Frances released it. At least something is going right.

Drake heard the yelling before Lisabeth opened the door. She’d heard her name and wondered what the women were talking about. When the door was opened Drake heard everything.

 “. . .someone she knows well should stay with her, or she stay with them. However you want to put it.”

“No, no, no. I know what you’re getting at. I am not rooming with Drake.”

“From what I hear you’re having the 15th floor converted into an apartment for yourself. So you don’t have to be roomies. You’ll be in the same building on different floors. You can have an intercom set up. You can even hire a live in cook and maid for her for Christ’s sake. What the shit is the problem here.”

Drake shivered when she heard the words and moved behind Lisabeth. Maybe she won’t see me. Then Lisabeth spoke, “excuse me?” Drake could see the surprise in both Frances’ and Toni’s faces and stepped back just a little more then was pulled into the office by her friend.

Lisabeth told her about the faxes. “I sent the faxes and I know how to do it now.” She tried to smile but it was hard. They’re yelling about me. I’m making them hate each other. I should go away and deliver the mail. Yeah, that’s my job. “I gotta go deliver more mail.”

Drake rushed to the elevator with her empty cart and pushed the button to the basement. Her heart was beating so hard she could feel it in her throat. The took the outgoing mail and placed it in the appropriate places. Interoffice in one box, those that had to be metered in another and picked up the new stacks to be distributed. The unusually quiet woman quickly pushed the loaded cart back to the elevator and pushed the button for 14.

Just as Frances entered an elevator the door opened onto 14 and Drake pushed the cart to begin the new deliveries. Instead of beginning at Toni’s office Drake opted to begin at the end of her route and work her way to the front. She really didn’t want to see Toni or Frances right now. She pressed her eyelids closed when tears threatened to fall. I’m not going to cry. Babies cry and I’m too big to be a baby. And babies need someone to live with them, too. She placed a small stack of mail in the box on Dollie’s desk and saw the box of Kleenex on the other corner. “Can I have some Kleenex?”

Dollie looked up from her work at the computer and smiled, “oh sure honey. Take all you need.” She passed the box to her.

Drake pulled several tissues, “thank you,” and continued with her deliveries. She pushed the cart into the bathroom and blew her nose then looked into the mirror. “You’re not very nice Drake. You do things that make everyone angry or upset.” The tears wouldn’t be held back, “and make people die.” And then make them go to hell because God is angry with you. Oh Sylvester, I hope you’re in Heaven. The woman rushed from the facility to the stairs and ran up to the 15th floor where construction of Toni’s apartment was still in progress. She stood for a moment and located elevator 3. She inserted the key, turned it calling the car and waited. When the doors opened the woman removed the key and entered. Once again she used the key to access the 19th floor.

Carter and Delgado stared at each other then at the trains that was being assembled by the movers. After waiting for Francis for over an hour the men were met by a tall blonde woman who introduced herself as Lisabeth. They accompanied her to the garage where the movers still waited with the truck and Drake’s valuable cargo.

Now the men were almost done. Some wiring and a test to make sure the set was fully operational was all that remained to be done. Delgado looked at his watch. “It’s five fifteen. What do we do when they’re done,” he motioned to the others with his chin.

“Guess we guard the trains.” Carter chuckled to himself.

“What?”

The apartment was exactly as they’d left it. Drake remembered her brother decided to get new furniture for the house. The tall woman walked into the large living room which took up a third of the south side of the living space. The furniture was covered with white sheets, but Drake didn’t want to look at the furniture. She turned to her left and looked out over downtown Dallas from one of the highest places in the city. The floor to ceiling windows allowed her to believe for a moment she was on a cloud. A flock of birds flew just beyond the window and Drake watched their synchronous movement as they weaved a tapestry of freedom in the sky before disappearing beyond view. “I wish sometimes I could be a bird and fly away.” They’re always with their friends and family. The birds are never alone. There’s always lots of other birds to play with, too.

Drake allowed her fingers to fondle the leather bound books in the huge bookcase. She pulled one out and carefully opened it. “Mo . . . by Dick. Or the gr . . .eat white wha . . . le.” She turned the page and saw the picture. “Oh, it’s a whale. Like on TV.” The she turned to the first chapter. “Call me I . . . Is. . .h . . .ma . . .el.” She flipped through the pages, “no pictures,” then slipped it back in it’s place on the shelf. With her finger Drake wiped the dust from the shelf then blew it away and brushing her finger against her pants. “Maybe Jackie will help me dust.”

The tall woman wandered looking into the kitchen and eventually each room until she reached the one that at one time was her own. She snapped the white covering off and smiled when she saw the quilt. She lay on it softly fingering and rubbing the pictures of steam locomotives that decorated the covering.

“Close your eyes Tweety.” Andrew made nodded to Jimmie who opened the bedroom door of the woman’s new room in their new house. “Okay you can look now.”

The bed was bigger than any she had ever seen except Andrew’s. But the headboard. She looked at her brother. "Trains Sylvester. It has trains on it.”

“Yeah kiddo,” he pulled the woman to him and hugged her. “It’s all yours. Come on,” he pulled her to it and sat on the bed pulling her down beside him. See?” He began bouncing and she did as well. “Neat huh?”

“Yeah,” she bounced on the bed turning to embrace her brother. “Neato.”

Philip waited until there was silence behind the door then turned and urged the staff away with a scowl. Slowly he
opened the door and slipped inside. The room was dark. Outside the late afternoon had turned to nightfall and the office, with no lights on, was in darkness. His shoes crunched over the broken glass and he stopped.

She chuckled, “I hear you Philip.”

“Are you okay Toni?” He turned toward the desk, which was the direction where the voice came. “You’ve got the folks out there practically peeing in their pants.” He heard something poured into a glass. “You drinking Toni?”

“I’m a big girl Philip. I’m allowed a drink you know.”

“Toni you know that’s not good for you to start up again.”

The glass hit the door inches from his head splattering wet stuff and glass. He smelled his jacket. Whiskey. Where the shit she get that? “Toni, how ‘bout if I take you home?”

“Home?” She laughed and yelled, “I have no home Philip. We have no home. We live in a hotel.”

“Until the apartment is done on 15 it is our home.” He replied softly.

“Go away Willie,” he heard the distinctive sound of a glass sliding along wood and a bottle taping the rim followed by the beverage sloshing into the container.

“I’m Philip Toni.”

“Well whoever the shit you are go away.”

She was loaded he knew. He also knew that in that condition she wouldn’t leave the building. She was a stickler for things like that. She stayed where she was. Somehow that helped him relax and make his decision. “I’ll  be back in the morning Toni.”

“Good.” But he’d slipped out of the room before she spoke. Toni closed her eyes. The headache finally gone she was able to relax.

“What the hell are you four doing here?” The sergeant in her BDU’s stood straight realizing the men still towered over her.

“Trying to get warm Gunny.” The four recruits stood at attention beside the large fifty gallon drum they used to keep warm.

“And what are you using as fuel for this fire,” she kicked the drum with her boot.

“Broken pieces of the boxes, Gunny.” The brown haired youth looked straight over her head not meeting her eyes.

Toni peeked into the drum and noted a wooden box being licked by flames. “That box doesn’t look like it’s broken down recruit.”

“No ma’am,” a dark skinned man stepped forward. “I did that ma’am.”

“Stevenson,” she stepped closer to the recruit, “did you check that box to make sure there were no grenades left in there?” She watched his eyes go up in thought. Shit. She heard the explosion and felt the hot metal impale her in several places. A heaviness kept her down as the ringing in her ears seemed to erupt into waves inside her head. Warmth trickled down her face and neck and she felt it on her back.

The Gunnery Sergeant woke up to a darkened room face down on cool sheets. Her back and legs hurt, something was stuck in her forearm and her head throbbed. She closed her eyes and slept. Bright sunlight greeted her when she next braved to open her eyes. Her throat was dry. When she tried to speak the words she had in her head were difficult to get out. She realized she didn’t know how to make the words be voiced.

Frances pushed the door open and quietly walked in. She stopped to listen for movement. Nothing. Outside the lights of nearby buildings attacked the windows leaving patterns of light and dark in the room and mottling the carpet. The detective wouldn’t even guess at the color. She started to close the door then thought better of it. The only way to get up here is with a key to the elevator. She reasoned. Okay Fran do you turn on the light or slink around like a cat burglar. The light. She finally decided. Wouldn’t want to meet a baseball bat wielding Drake in the dark. She located the panel of switches and flipped one. Nothing happened. Shit, don’t tell me a billion dollar corporation had the electricity turned off. She palmed the panel to feel for a knob. Maybe it’s one of those lights where you have to use the dimmer. Bingo. She turned the knob and lights throughout what had to be the living room brightened.

Quickly she searched the living room, checking beneath every drop cloth in case the mentally challenged woman had decided to hide. She moved on to the kitchen then to what was obviously an office. The first master bedroom had probably belonged to Palmer because the furniture was decidedly masculine. It was followed by a gym, then another bedroom, a recreation room with pool table and several pin ball machines. Finally Frances laid eyes on a sleeping Drake. The younger woman had wrapped the quilt over her and slept with her hands neatly folded beneath her cheek. The detective caught her breath. She’s beautiful.

Yeah, like you didn’t already know that.

But, it just hit me. My God. She’s like an angel sleeping there.

Frances retreated to the kitchen where she looked through the cupboards and found instant coffee and a Mr. Coffee machine. After a thorough search of the other cabinets and finding no trace of ground coffee she added water to a mug and zapped it in the microwave. She added two medium spoonsful of Coffeemate and the same amount of sugar and settled into a chair with her feet up on the one across from it. She sipped the coffee, leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

Carter shrugged his shoulders. “Guess we spend the rest of the shift guarding the trains.” He smiled. The set was assembled and it was ready to go. “Ever play with trains Bert?”

“Nah,” Delgado found a comfy place on the floor and removed his gunbelt. “Damn thing’s heavy.”

“Yeah I hear you.” Carter removed his as well and moved to the trains. “Neat layout,” he buckled the belt and slung it over his shoulder. He bent over inspecting an engine. “Hey this is worth thousands.”

“What?”

“This steam engine. I saw it in a book.” He looked carefully at more of the cars, “bet this thing is worth over a hundred grand.”

“A train set?” Delgado chuckled.

“No really, this is expensive stuff. Not something you can go into Toys R Us and pick up for 60 bucks.” The man approvingly stroked the locomotive with his finger. “Wow.”

“If it’s so valuable I’d keep my hands off it if I was you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Be just my luck too. There I am standing in front of the Captain,” the man faced his friend and partner, “well Sir, I just played with the trains. And . . . it broke.” Both men chuckled.

Toni stumbled to the door and pulled it open. The office was quiet and dark. She looked at her watch. Oh hell. 21:16. Now what? Apartment. No, it’s not finished. Nineteen. Yeah. She returned to her desk and felt around the middle drawer for her keys.

Frances jerked her head up. Now I’m falling asleep on the job. Job? This was your day of kiddo. Shit. Luckily the coffee mug was still in her hand. Cool, but at least not on the floor spreading brown stuff all over. She glanced at her watch. Damn, 21: 24. She stood and zapped it once again in the microwave. Maybe if I actually drink the stuff I’ll stay awake.

Toni  looked at the key and then the open door and leaned against the doorjam.

Frances heard movement. Maybe Drake is up? She settled the mug on the table, scooted back the chair and headed for the bedroom.

Toni had been in the place once and headed for the kitchen needing water. She turned the tap and guzzled water from her hand then turned to find a bed. The executive picked up the mug on the table. “Coffee, how nice of them Course I prefer black, but hey this’ll work.” She took the mug and hunted down a bedroom sipping as she went.

Frances watched the woman in the bed. Drake had turned onto her back and was gently snoring. The detective chuckled lightly. “Sleep on kiddo. Sleep on.”

Toni found the large bedroom and pushed the door closed behind her. The reflections of light from outside gave the woman enough light to see as she pulled the drop cloth back from the bed. Oh, more sheets. She shrugged and pulled the quilt and sheets open. She sipped more coffee then settled it on the nightstand. After slipping her jacket and blouse off she kicked off her pumps and slid her slacks down tripping slightly as she kicked them from her feet.

Frances decided to use the guest bedroom. It now seemed obvious Drake would probably sleep through the night. She was more than likely terribly upset. She used the bathroom and discovered a new toothbrush and paste in the cabinet.
After brushing and washing up the detective unlaced her hiking boots and socks. “Oh damn. Probably should rinse out the coffee cup.”  She turned down the bed. Naw. It can wait til morning. Removing her jeans, jacket and sweatshirt she settled her beeper and cell phone on the nightstand, slipped under the covers and immediately fell asleep.

The detective fell into bed immediately settling into sleep.

Drake stretched and sat up in the bed. The predawn light peeped into her room giving it the slight pink-blue glow of dawn. She stood and straightened her slacks and blouse. Jackie won’t like it that they’re wrinkled. Jackie! The tall dark haired woman paled. She must be very worried. Drake brushed her teeth in the private bathroom and washed her face. She found her old comb and ran it though her hair then quietly left the apartment in search of the mail cart she’d left behind the day before. I think I left it in the bathroom on 14.

She’d never been in the offices so early in the morning. She walked through the empty floor. It’s scary without people here. Quickly she retrieved her mail cart and felt better. At least she had something that was familiar. She looked through the cart and saw the mail she’d failed to deliver the day before. Golly they’re gonna be angry. She shook her head and made the rounds leaving the mail in their appropriate spots then took the elevator to the basement. The mail room was empty and Drake looked at the clock. Five thirty. The mail crew arrived at six when the first sacks of mail were dropped off by the post office. Even with email the large company generated and received a tremendous amount of mail and packages.

Toni’s head hurt. So what else is new? Maybe I should see a doctor. “Or maybe I should jump right back on the wagon again.” She sat up in the bed and held her head. “Shit Toi, what you trying to do?”

Frances had wakened and quickly showered and dressed. Drake was no longer in the room. The detective zapped some hot water in the microwave and fixed herself a cup of coffee. Wonder where I put that mug last night? She shrugged her shoulders and decided to search the apartment once more for Drake before settling down with her coffee.

Toni thought she heard a shower running and shrugged her shoulders. “That’s what you get Toi,” she took a quick shower herself and dressed in the previous day’s clothes. Have to get to the hotel and change. “Coffee first.” She turned into the kitchen and laid the mug from the previous night into the sink. “How nice.” She sipped the hot coffee and wandered out of the apartment.

Frances noticed the bed in the master bedroom had been slept in. Guess Drake moved in the middle of the night. She headed for the kitchen and the morning coffee she had grown to wake her up. Indeed, the office gossip was that one didn’t mess with Francis before she’d had her coffee. “Shit,” the woman found an empty mug in the sink but no sign of the coffee she just prepared.

Drake loaded her cart with the mail that had to be delivered and dropped off the outgoing mail. She checked her box and pulled out a memo and sat down to read it.

Date:        7 February 2000
To:           All Employees
From:     Antoinette Ramsden, President, CEO
Subject:  A loss in our CTI family

It is with great sadness and pain I inform you of the untimely death of Jackie Cavanaugh. This afternoon Jackie was struck by a hit and run driver and was killed instantly.

CTI is offering a reward of $500,000 to anyone whose information leads to the capture and conviction of the person responsible for this heinous and cowardly act.

Drake read it again. Jackie is dead? Tears welled in the woman’s eyes. “No. She’ll be at work today. Jackie won’t die and leave me all alone.” She shook her head. “She won’t do that.” She won’t. She folded the memo and stuffed it into her back pocket then pushed the cart to do her job. Sylvester said it was the most important job at CTI.

Toni rode the elevator to the 8th floor and entered her room at the Adams Mark hotel where she quickly changed into a fresh Donna Karen suit. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. “Okay Ramsden, enough of the shit. It’s time to get back to what you do best. Build companies.” She smiled then nearly doubled over at the intense pain in her head. “God, what the . . .” She fell to her knees, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Oh God, oh God.” She raised her hand to the nightstand and pulled down the phone. “I need help in 837. Please. Eight thirty-seven. Help.”

Toni allowed the paramedics do their job. The IV inserted they rolled the gurney down the hall and into the elevator. The pain was so intense she didn’t mind when the EMT received permission to give her 10 cc’s of morphine. She didn’t remember the rest of the trip to the ER nor the x-ray’s, CAT scan’s and MRI’s performed. All she cared about was the headaches if not gone, at least didn’t hurt quite so bad. And she didn’t seem to care about it either. Ah good ole morphine.

Philip was contacted by the hotel staff and watched as his boss was slid into the ambulance for the trip to Baylor. He followed in the limo and waited around the ER until he was escorted by a nurse to see her. What he ended up seeing shocked her old friend. Toni Ramsden was curled on the bed in a near fetal position. She’d had a stroke.

“What?” No, no, no. Toni Ramsden does not get debilitated by a stroke. This is not possible. She was in excellent health. Hell, I had a hard time keeping up with her. No way.

The nurse covered the patient with a sheet to her waist and turned to the man. “She’s being admitted.”

“Can she hear us?” The nurse nodded. “Toni?” He bent over so he could be face to face with her. “Toni if you can hear me can you, like, uh, blink your eyes?” He nearly laughed in relief when eyelids briefly cover her eyes then opened again. “Great at least you understand me.”  He stood straight up immediately when a tall woman entered.

“Hi I’m Dr. Bain. I just want to examine Ms. Ramsden and then I can speak to you.” She looked at him closely and looked at the chart. “Your her brother?”

Philip cleared his throat. “Uh, no cousin.”

“Okay Mr. Rams . . .”

“It’s Singh. Philip Singh.”

“Okay Mr. Singh. Please give us a few minutes.”

Philip waited around the ER waiting room for nearly an hour drinking bad coffee and eating three candy bars. Actually the coffee wasn’t bad at all. Philip’s unease in the hospital and concern over Toni didn’t allow him the usual joy in appreciating it.

“Mr. Singh?” Dr. Bain took his arm and led him to a small utility room. “Your cousin experienced a stroke.”

“Yes, that’s what the nurse said. How is she? Will she recover? How long will it take?”

Dr. Bain smiled. “First she’s resting comfortably. She’ll be taken to a room within the next half hour or so. Second, I don’t know how far her recovery will go. Sometimes recovery from a stroke is complete sometimes not. It really depends on how long the brain was starved for oxygen. Third, again how long? Who knows? Alot depends on your cousin. She’ll definately  have to have physical therapy. She could regain some of her motor skills but not all of them without therapy. She may also regain the ability to speak. Again that will take time and practice with a speech therapist. She was very lucky. It could have been worse.”

“Worse? She may never be completely normal again and you say it could have been worse?”

“Mr. Singh, your cousin could have died. In my book that’s worse than what she’s looking at now.”

Philip ran his hand through his black hair. “Yeah, of course you’re right. How did this happen? All she complained about were headaches.”

“The headaches were caused by a tumor. The stroke was caused by the same tumor that, for some reason, temporarily squeezed a blood vessel causing the loss of oxygen to that area of her brain. It was almost like the tumor shifted position then shifted back. We really are not sure. However, we have an excellent neurosurgeon here, Dr. Alan Groves, and he’ll be performing the surgery to remove the tumor.”

“She’s got brain cancer?” My God this just keeps getting worse.

“Mr. Singh. The tumor more than likely is not cancerous. But, it still has to come out or it can lead to more problems for your cousin, even death.” She patted the man’s arm, “we’ll need your consent to operate since she’s in no condition to give it. Or does she have closer family in  town?”

“No,” Okay Philip. You lied enough to get into hell five times over you may as well go all the way with it. “No, her immediately family are dead.” He sighed, “I’m all she’s got.” Thank god she’s accepting this. Besides I have no clue where her family is or even if they’re alive. So this had better work or Toni is up the proverbial creek.

“Right.” She opened the door and stepped from the small room and went to the nursing station. “Yvonne, Mr. Singh will be signing the consent forms for his cousin Toni Ramsden.” She turned back to Philip. “Here’s my card. Please give my office a call if you should have any questions.” She turned and returned to her patient.

Philip spent the next thirty minutes going over the financial information the hospital required. His next move, he knew, had to be CTI. He stopped at the 14th floor and made his way to Toni’s office. A petite dark haired woman with deep brown eyes sat at Jackie Cavanaugh’s desk. “Hello,” she batted her eyelids. “Ms. Ramsden isn’t in yet.”

“I know. She’s at Baylor hospital.”

“Oh goodness,” the woman replied. “Nothing serious I hope?”

Philip stared at her for a moment before shaking his head. Philip turned when he heard the clearing of a throat behind
him. “Hi, I’m Detective Francis. You must be Philip.” She smiled and held out her hand which he shook.

“Toni’s at Baylor. I was, huh,” he looked at the secretary and then back at the detective, “looking for someone here to inform.”

“Come on,” Frances jerked her head for him to follow her. She stopped in front of a desk, “Lisabeth this is Philip,
Toni’s driver.”

“Hi,” the blonde woman kept tapping keys. “Something I can do for you?” She didn’t look at either of them.

“Just wanted to let you know Toni’s been admitted to Baylor. She suffered a stroke this morning.”

Lisabeth stopped and looked up at him then at the detective and back at Philip. “What?”

“And she has a tumor that has to come out. She’s been having some pretty bad headaches lately and this morning it evidently got so bad she had to call for help. On the way she suffered a stroke.”

“Oh my God. What’s going to happen at CTI?”

“Actually that’s what I wanted to discuss with whomever is in charge.”

“No one is in charge. Ms. Ramsden hadn’t made decisions yet on that. And Jack . . . Jackie is dead.” The woman's voice caught at the last words.

“I guess then that would be her partner, right?” He looked at the woman who suddenly paled.

“Drake?” Lisabeth slowly shook her head. “Oh brother.”