DIRTY LAUNDRY

by Neil Burns
Neiltkd@aol.com

SUMMARY: There's a little altercation in the church.

DISCLAIMER: The characters in this piece belong to Paramount and Fireworks Productions.

<So the Queen of Swords is human after all,> Helm thought to himself, then smiled with mock pity to ask her, "Guilty conscience?

"Dr. Helm," the Queen articulated, but did not look at him. "I did not know you were a religious man."

"I'm not really," he shrugged. "I certainly didn't know you were."

The Queen's head snapped up from her prayer stance to demand, "Why are you here?" All she wanted was a little bit of solitude.

"I examined Senora Diaz this morning at her home and saw a bag of gold sitting on the table," he let that sink into her. He could tell it had as her mouth, the only part of her face that he could clearly see had tightened. "It looked suspiciously like bags of gold suddenly appearing on the doorsteps belonging to families of the soldiers you killed. Know anything about them?"

"I left them, Doctor," she quietly admitted.

"I see," he grimaced as he paced behind her back. "Kill a soldier, then bribe the family so they put in a good word for you when they pray to the Lord. Nice scheme."

The Queen opened her eyes to finally look at him, but it was a cold, hard stare. <How dare this arrogant gringo interrupt me!>

"Of course," Helm continued. "They probably ask God to inflict the most horrible death possible on you."

"Dr. Helm. I am not buying forgiveness," the Queen spouted. "I am trying to help them."

"If you want to help them," Helm suggested, "don't kill anyone."

That was enough for the Queen. Suddenly his company wasn't anything but an irritation. She stood to ask, "Do you think I enjoy this?" She looked around the church and knew they were alone so she could tell the doctor once again, "I fight for justice and the oppressed. I do not like killing, but at times it is either they die or I die."

Helm stood facing her with a mild amused smile that he just couldn't let go. He had seen self-righteous people before, hell he was one, maybe still was, "You're right. You don't enjoy this. You bloody get off on it! You're parading around like the bloody high executioner sent by God Almighty, killing those who don't fit your moral standards."

"My father died at Montoya's hand!"

It was high time the Queen explained herself. The light jovial tone of Helm's voice dripped acid as he said, "Oh... so Papa came to you in a dream and declared that you kill in the name of justice and the people so he can rest peacefully. That's an amusing explanation when you're facing the gallows."

Suddenly, the irate Queen utilized her savage backhand maneuver that she had come to perfect, knocking Helm against the wall. She forced him against it; her dagger appeared out of no where and pressed against his throat. "You pompous ass," she growled. "How dare you!"

Suddenly, Helm wasn't as comfortable in the conversation as he had been and could see the brutal nature of the woman wearing the mask. She pressed on, "I see those soldiers' faces in my sleep every night! I pray for their souls and the families every night! Do you think I'm like Montoya or Grisham?!" The edge of the dagger's blade pressed further against Helm's neck so he put his hand atop hers to try to lessen the pressure. She bit his hand and continued, "That I kill for the sheer pleasure of it?! The Dons do nothing, they grow fat while the people starve! Montoya taxes them to death and kills them whenever it amuses him! The Spanish Court does not give a damn that Montoya is robbing them blind!" Every word she had said took all her strength but she declared, "I have to fight for the people! It is my destiny! It--."

"Oh, get off your high horse! Self-righteousness doesn't suit you!" Helm had had enough and pushed her back. He could have maneuvered that knife out of her hand and have her throat slit within seconds... and she didn't even know it! She didn't know who she was dealing with! His blood was boiling as he demanded, "Who bloody died and made you God? You are no better than Montoya or Grisham even if it is a 'noble' purpose," he seethed. "Killing doesn't change a damn thing. Have you ever hear of the Fourth Commandment: 'Thou shalt not kill?' John 8:11. Passage 53. Line 7-9. 'Let he who hath no sin cast the first stone'."

The Queen testily replied, "Meaning what?" The Queen's lovely face twisted into an acid smile of her own as she had one over him, "How many people have you killed, Doctor? Including your own father?"

Helm collapsed back against the wall with complete and utter confusion. He wondered if he had even heard her right. As he studied her body language and gloating attitude, he knew that she knew the truth. "Who the hell told you?" he snapped.

"A mutual Gypsy friend."

"Marta," he gasped. He felt utterly betrayed! Marta had... that bloody trollop! Then Helm paused as the truth came to him. He saw the truth... Marta had told the Queen of Swords his secret! Marta knew the Queen of Swords... Helm couldn't believe that his past would have cropped up in a casual conversation with a woman that Marta didn't know or wasn't close to. Suddenly, Helm looked at the Queen with renewed interest. He knew exactly who the woman behind the mask was. Finally! He had the thought that Tessa Alvarado was the Queen, but they were so damned different. He studied her face under the lace to see if he was correct.

"Perfectly understandable," she said, not knowing that she had made a mistake. "He sacrificed your men for his own profit. He sold your navy's secrets to the Americanos. What is that saying? 'Loose lips sink ships'? How fitting!"

<Ah yes,> Helm thought. <That was the spoiled little girl that Tessa Alvarado was!> There was no denying it anymore.

He was ready to confront her with his new found knowledge, but she said, "Then there is that assassin who came for you after you killed his brother."

"He was selling secrets to the bloody French!" Helm stopped, he didn't need to explain his duty that he had performed well to her, but her cavalier attitude made him shout, "It was a matter of national security! That bastard father of mine killed thousands of good men to fill his pockets! My best friend died because of that sod!"

"Now who is being self-righteous, Doctor?" the Queen patted her dagger against his cheek.

"What's your bloody point?"

"The point is that you, of all people, have no right to take the moral high ground with me. We both did things that will haunt us for the rest of our lives."

He didn't like that she was comparing them, that was all behind him, "That was four years ago, dearie. I haven't touched a weapon since, except to save your hide." He had to admit that the shot that broke Grisham's sword in two was actually pretty good. Why couldn't that woman figure out who she was dealing with?!

The Queen of Swords sheathed her dagger and placed her hands on Helm's shoulders, her dark eyes gazing squarely into his. "You are a good man, Doctor. You have a good heart and integrity. That is what I fight for. I do not wish to kill anyone. If I can accomplish my mission with no casualties, that would be ideal. However, the situation often does not permit it. I will try not to kill anyone in the future, but I can not guarantee that."

"I always supported your fight for justice, but you forget that no man or woman has the right to be judge, jury and executioner," Helm tightened. That reasoning was why he had put down his gun for good. "Only God has that right."

The Queen leaned forward and kissed a bemused Helm on the cheek, then gently patted it. "Thank you for a most spirited conversation." she smiled ironically.

"Glad to oblige. My apologies for the choice of location."

The Queen of Swords smiled as she raised her sword in salute and disappeared into the night. Helm smiled and shook his head. An act of going to the church to get a little solitude turned out to be one interesting evening, indeed. One of these days, her luck is going to run out. He did appreciate that the Queen was trying to help, he just wished she could find another way. Their relationship of banter and flirtation had turned to each knowing each of them knowing the other's secret. If the Queen, Senorita Tessa Alvarado, wouldn't tell anyone else his secret, he would also keep hers. Helm crossed himself and left for home.

~~~~~

It was a typically warm day in Santa Helena and Dr. Robert Helm was taking inventory of his medical supplies, at least those that Captain Grisham didn't destroy trying to stop Helm from making medicine for the fever. There was a knock on the door and Helm saw Tessa Alvarado's duena Marta enter. <So. The traitorous little strumpet returns to the scene of the crime.> A friendly smile formed on Helm's lips as he greeted the Gypsy.

"Afternoon, Marta," he said blandly. "What can I do for you?"

"Good afternoon, Dr. Helm," Marta replied. "I need some medicine."

"What kind?"

As Marta gave a small list, Helm obliged and brought over some lemonade to share with the Gypsy. "Care for some lemonade, Marta?"

"Gracias," she sipped casually.

"I was wondering," Helm told her, "how do you feel about secrets?"

"Sometimes it is a good thing if you do not want people to know. Tessita and I have our secrets. We share them and we trust each other not to reveal them to anyone else."

"Have you ever?"

"Dr. Helm!" Marta gasped, replied indignantly, "I am offended!"

<No. I am offended.> Helm thought to himself, then asked, "Why?"

"Do you think I would just callously blabber people's personal business to anyone I meet?"

<Me thinks the Queen doth protest too much.> "You haven't told anyone about my past, have you?"

"Dr. Helm. We are kindred spirits. Fellow healers. You are a friend to us, even if Tessita would not admit it. I would never do something like that."

Helm smiled as he refilled Marta's glass with lemonade. "Well, the other night, I was in church-"

"I did not know you were religious."

"I'm not. I was in church for an hour or two of solitude when I see the Queen of Swords praying at the altar. We get into our usual discussion about her having a God Complex while dispensing justice. Do you know what she said?"

Helm timed his bombshell just as Marta was in mid-sip of her lemonade. "She asked 'How many people have you killed, including your own father'?"

Sure enough, Marta spat it out and stared at Helm in shock. <Got you, you little  trollop.> Helm poured some more in her glass, still with that bland smile.

"Who told you?" Marta asked trying to regain her calm.

"She said a 'mutual Gypsy friend'."

"Which one?" Marta asked as she thought, <Tessita, you idiot!>

Helm's smile broadened as every word was drenched in acid. "Given that Santa Helena doesn't have much of a Gypsy population, given that nobody else knows my past and given that you are the only Gypsy I know, guess who the 'mutual Gypsy friend is'?"

"I am," Marta admitted ruefully.

"Which brings me to another point, my darling Judas."

"Which is?"

"I know who the Queen of Swords is. You wouldn't tell anyone you didn't know something so personal as a man's past. So you know her. The only one you are close to is Senorita Alvarado. When she told me that, she gave herself away."

"How-"

"She showed the petulant attitude your mistress shows. Another clue. Also, I saw you mistress trying to drown herself a little while ago and saved her. As I walked along the beach to get back to the main road I saw black clothes and the glint of a sword handle in the moonlight. Put it all together and the evidence, my gossiping Gypsy, is incontrovertible. The Queen of Swords is Maria Teresa Alvarado."

"Congratulations, Doctor," A soft alto voice caught his attention. Tessa stood in the doorway watching this little tet-e-tet unfold. She thought about the verbal sparring match between herself and Helm and kicked herself mentally for giving herself away. A friendly smile, with a slight bitter edge, played at her lips. "You really should have been a policeman."

"Good afternoon, Your Majesty," Helm mockingly bowed.

"So you have known all along."

"I had my suspicions when you tried to drown yourself-"

"Tessita!" Marta interjected, "You tried to kill yourself?"

"About a month ago. I killed a young soldier who was just following orders. I was depressed and felt that nothing I do made a difference. I wanted to end it all, figuring nobody would miss me. Turns out somebody did. The doctor who helped me ashore."

"Especially," Helm continued, "when I saw your sword shining in the moonlight that evening. The other night's tet-e-tet in the church confirmed it."

"So what are you going to do," Marta queried sourly. "Tell Montoya?"

"And sacrifice the only one with the temerity to stand up to that crook? Give me credit. I'm a bastard, but I'm not that bad."

"You are correct," Tessa smiled sweetly. "You are a bigger bastard."

"Touche!" Helm raised his lemonade glass in wry salute.

The three sat in the office and enjoyed lemonade for a few silent moments. Now all three knew secrets about Robert Helm and Tessa Alvarado. They would have be careful not to leak anything to anyone else, otherwise, there would be trouble. After another round of lemonade, Tessa and Marta left. Helm watched them go, armed with new knowledge and determined that that knowledge would not fall into Montoya's hands. With a wry chuckle, he resumed his inventory.

THE END