Song For Whoever Part 4
Frank arrived just after seven, as Tim was getting a coffee.
“Well, Bayliss, how was your shift at the Waterfront last night? Funny, I could have sworn that’s where you said you were going to be. I went in with Mary at about 11, and Lewis said that you had a “hot mama” waiting for you. Wanna tell me what happened?”
Tim looked directly at his partner.
“ I was on shift. I arranged to meet Rachel there, and we were going to have something to eat when I finished. Lewis offered to cover, so I accepted. No big deal, Frank.”
Frank shook his head in resignation.
“You’re going to get hurt, Tim. Again. I can’t tell you what to do, just know how deep you’re getting in. Is it just a short-term thing with Rachel?”
Tim looked amused.
“I thought you’d have been happy to see me with a woman, Frank. And no, I don’t plan on it being a short-term thing. She’s a wonderful woman, and I want to go the distance this time. No more messing around.”
“Does she know this, or does she just see it as a one nighter?”
Tim was beginning to get annoyed with this whole line of questioning.
“She knows where I stand on this, and she feels the same. We both want to see where this goes. That’s enough, Frank. I’m not saying any more on the subject. Do we have an address for Guy?”
Frank nodded.
“He lives in the apartment above the club. What time do you want to go see him?”
Tim grabbed his gun from the desk drawerand holstered it.
“No time like the present, huh, Frank?”
He stalked out of the squadroom door. Frank followed reluctantly. Whatever had happened to Bayliss last night had certainly fired him up for work today!
They pulled up outside the Blue Angel shortly after 7.30, and went around to the back. They hammered on the apartment door, and waited for a reply. When none came, Frank went around to the front of the club and tried the door. It was, predictably, locked. Frank hammered on the front door for several minutes until he heard some movement inside.
“Okay, don’t beat the fuckin’ door down. I heard ya the first time.”
Frank heard a key grinding in the lock, and the door opened to reveal Guy, looking a little the worse for wear.
“Baltimore Homicide.”
Tim appeared behind Frank at that point, and just pushed his way through.
“We’re here about the murder of Martin LeFevre three nights ago. We need to ask you a few questions.”
Tim sat at the same table they had sat at the first time they came to the club.
“Well, where were you that night, between 2 and 4am, Guy?”
He didn’t answer at first. He went behind the bar and poured himself a large scotch. He sat down at the table with Tim and Frank, and lit a thin black cigarette. He sat, sucking quietly, for a few minutes, and then he began to talk in a raspy voice.
“I was here all night. Closed up at 2 or so, cleared up, and went to bed around 4. There were loadsa witnesses until closing time. And Rachel Meyers was here ‘til about 3.”
He took another drag on his cigarette, and sipped his drink. Frank cleared his throat.
“Did you see Mr. LeFevre here at all that night?”
Guy coughed noisily into his sleeve, wiping away the spit with the back of his hand.
“Yeah, he was here. Sat over there with Emma, that little piece of jailbait! Got here about 11, had a few drinks. Then Martin went to see Rachel. You could hear her screaming, and throwing things around. Sounded like she wanted to kill him. He came out about 1, and they left pretty much straight away. Haven’t seen either of them since.” He coughed again, and a fleck of blood was visible at the side of his mouth.
“How long have you known Emma?” asked Tim.
Guy looked up, slyly.
“I only met her that night. It was the only time Martin had brought her in. She’s a real piece of ass!”
Tim looked disappointed. He knew that Frank was just itching to pull Rachel in for this.
“Do you own a gun, Guy?” asked Frank, casually.
“Yeah. Doesn’t everyone these days? So what if I do? It’s not a fuckin’ crime, is it?”
Tim realised what Frank was getting at.
“What type? Shotgun, magnum, what?”
“I got a .32, okay. I thought the bastard was stabbed, anyway?”
Frank shook his head.
“Not before he was shot. Do you own a hunting knife? Maybe use it for fishing out on the bay?”
Guy nodded.
“Had one for years. Don’t use it for nothin’ now, though. Not got the time. Why are you askin’ me all this shit, anyway? You oughta be talkin’ to that crazy Rachel bitch. If anyone wanted Martin dead, it was her. She said he owed her a lot of dough.”
Guy coughed again, and went behind the bar to refresh his drink. Tim was confused. He had been so sure that Rachel had nothing to do with Martin’s death, but the evidence seemed to mounting up against her. The only thing that he could think of that would explain everything was if Guy and Emma were somehow trying to frame Rachel. Unfortunately, there was nothing to prove this, so they just had to go on the leads they had at the moment. The silence was broken by Tim’s cellphone. He walked over to the door, and took the call in relative privacy. In the meantime, Frank was looking around the main room of the club. There was nothing remarkable in the daytime, nothing different from any other club. He rejoined Guy at the table, where he was fiddling with another cigarette.
“Frank, I need a word,” asked Tim.
Frank ambled over to the door.
“They got the mud samples back from the lab this morning. The tracks were made by the heels of Martin LeFevre’s shoes, meaning that he was dragged backwards down the alley. It would have taken either two people or one strong man to do that. I think we ought to ask Guy for his shoes from the other night, and try to match up any residue. He knows a lot more than he’s telling us.”
He looked hopefully at Frank.
“Bayliss, we don’t have any grounds to think that he’s done anything! All he’s doing is corroborating Emma’s story! So he owns a gun and a hunting knife! So do a lot of people!”
Tim shook his head in defiance.
“But their story is too similar, too perfect. It’s absolutely identical. I think that’s rather funny, don’t you, Frank?”
“No, Bayliss, I don’t think it’s funny! Maybe it’s the same story because it’s the truth! You just don’t want to face up to the fact that the woman you’re dating may have killed her ex! Get real! Just to please you, we’ll take his shoes, but I’m also going to get Ms. Meyers in the box. Then we’ll see what happens. Don’t even try to argue, that’s what’s gonna happen, Tim”
“Guy, we need your gun, the hunting knife, and the shoes you were wearing on the night of the murder. We also need you to come down to the stationhouse with us so we can get your prints, so we can try to eliminate you from our investigation. You’re not under arrest at this stage, but we need your statement. I’m afraid you’ll have to come with us now. If you’ll show us where the gun and knife are, and get your shoes, we can get this over with as quickly as possible.”
Frank was, as always, getting straight to the point. He went with Guy while he fetched the weapons and shoes, leaving Tim on his own. His mind was in turmoil. He had been so sure that Rachel had nothing to do with it, but maybe he was wrong. But she seemed so honest, so straightforward! He didn’t know what to think any more, only that his life was being turned upside down by this case, just as it had been when he met Chris Logan. He went out to the car to wait, to clear his head and to try to put all of this into some sort of perspective.
Gee called them into his office as soon as they arrived at the stationhouse. He was fuming about something, and the two detectives looked at each other apprehensively.
“What the hell are you playing at, Bayliss? Did you think I wouldn’t find out what was going on?”
“What are you talking about, Gee?” he asked, innocently.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you had pulled in a sixteen-year-old prostitute yesterday? That group had been under surveillance by vice and narcotics for a few weeks now! You lifting that girl made them all scatter, and now there are two cases blown! You’d better have gotten something worthwhile out of her! Well? Why did you pull her?”
Gee was apoplectic. You could almost visualize the steam coming out of his ears.
“She was the last person to have seen Martin LeFevre alive. She’d moved in with him six months ago, and she had information that we needed. That was why we pulled her in,” Tim answered, defiantly.
Frank butted in before Tim made a mistake.
“We’ve got the manager of the Blue Angel in the box at the moment. He owns a .32 and a hunting knife, so we’re checking him out now. I also wanna get Rachel Meyers in the box later. Both Emma, the prostitute and Guy Waterson, the manager of the club, say they heard her have a violent fight with Martin on the night of his death. She definitely knows more than she’s telling us. There’s no one who can back her up, either.”
Gee nodded in accordance.
“That’s okay, but don’t forget that there’s probably two people involved in this, and if Rachel Meyers is involved, then you have to find her accomplice. Does she have a motive? Bayliss?”
Tim stood silently, before shrugging his shoulders.
“Guy and Emma told us about this alleged argument with LeFevre, and Guy claims that she said he owed her a lot of money, but that’s all unsubstantiated. There’s no proof of any of it, except their word.”
Gee leaned back in his chair and stroked his chin.
“I think Frank’s right to want to get her in. Lean on her if you have to, just make sure you get the truth from her this time. Okay, you’d better get into the box and question Guy… what’s his surname?”
Frank looked accusingly at Tim.
“Waterson. He’s not the world’s nicest guy, but I don’t think he’s clever enough to have done this and left so little evidence.”
Tim suddenly walked out of the office, closely followed by Frank.
“You can’t protect her any more, Tim! You may be screwing a murderer, and I can’t let that carry on just to please you! If she did it, then I’m going to do all I can to put her away, no matter how that may offend you. Now let’s get this finished with Guy. Then we can go pick up your… girlfriend!”
Frank stormed in to the box, leaving a shell-shocked Tim in his wake. When Tim got into the box, Frank was already sat opposite Guy, taking his prints. Frank was right, of course. If Rachel had killed Martin LeFevre, he couldn’t do anything about it. Maybe she was just using him to try to avoid arrest. He didn’t know what to think! She didn’t act as though she had anything to hide, or as though she was lying to him about anything. The way she made him feel wasn’t a figment of his imagination, and neither was the way that she responded to him. If they had to pull Rachel in, he couldn’t sit in the box and watch Frank destroy her, whatever the outcome might be.
************
Driving to Rachel’s apartment, Tim decided to tell Frank how he was feeling.
“I can’t come into the box with you, Frank. I can’t help you destroy Rachel. She means too much to me to do that. Do what you have to, but keep me out of it, okay? Take Gharty in there, or Gee, or Stivers, but you’d better leave Munch, Lewis and Kellerman out of this, because they’ve all seen me with her. I don’t want her jumped on jus because we’ve been dating. Please, Frank. If you think anything of me at all, don’t hurt her. If she didn’t do anything, and I think we’ll find that she’s innocent, Frank, then I don’t want to lose her. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Tim sounded close to tears as he poured his heart out. Frank was touched. If Tim had that kind of belief in her, then maybe his own instincts were wrong. Maybe Tim was right about Guy and Emma’s stories being so similar. That was just something that they had to find out when they interviewed Rachel.
Rachel answered the door quickly. Tori Amos was playing in the background. Before she could say anything, Tim stepped into the apartment.
“Rachel, I’m sorry to have to do this, but you’re going to have to come down to the stationhouse with us. There’s a few more questions we need to ask you. We also need the shoes you wore after you came off stage on the night of the murder. Can you get them for us?”
Rachel looked bemused and close to tears.
“What do you need me for? I’ve told you all I know. And why do you need my shoes? What’s going on?”
Frank tactfully left the apartment, leaving Tim to explain to Rachel.
“Rachel, there’s some new witnesses that have come forward. They claim to have heard you having an argument with Martin that night at the club. They say that they heard you throwing things around. We just need you to come down and explain to us about this.”
Tim moved to put his hands on her shoulders, but she sharply pulled away.
“I thought you believed in me, Tim! I have told you nothing but the truth from start to finish, and now I’m a suspect!”
She turned away and began to cry. Tim put his arms around her from behind, and she tried to wriggle free, but his strong arms held her tight. She gave in, and turned to face him, burying her head in his chest.
“This is so unfair! I couldn’t have killed him, Tim! I told you about Emma, wasn’t that enough?”
Tim was stroking her hair, comforting her. How could he ever have doubted her?
“I don’t want to do this to you, but we really need you to come with us now, and bring those shoes. It’ll be okay, Rachel. I promise.”
He knew he had no right to promise her that, but it was the only thing he could think of that would comfort her.
She was sat in the box, looking tiny and forlorn, and Tim watched her through the mirror. He didn’t know what was going to happen, he was leaving that to Frank and Terri Stivers, but he knew that he desperately wanted her story to be true, and for her shoes to have no traces from the alley on them. She looked so scared, so alone, and he couldn’t protect her this time. He turned around as he heard the door open. Munch came in.
“What the hell is she doing in the box, Timmy? Has she got something to do with the Martin LeFevre case? Please tell me she doesn’t!”
Tim nodded wearily, admitting his guilt.
“Tim, what are you playing at? When are you going to learn not to get involved, huh?”
Munch smiled.
“Was she worth it?”
Tim smiled, and gazed at Rachel. He wanted to hold her so badly.
“Yeah, she’s worth it. I want her so badly, Munch. I can’t think about anything else at the moment. That’s why I’m not in there. I can’t help Frank destroy her.”
He placed his hand on the glass, as if trying to touch Rachel.
“You won’t tell Gee, will you? I don’t want her to be in any more trouble.”
He looked pleadingly at Munch. Munch ruffled Tim’s hair.
“You know I could never resist that hang-dog look! I hope you’re right about her. I’ve never seen you this happy.”
He watched with Tim as Frank started to question Rachel.
“What were you doing on the night in question, Rachel?”
Frank was in a confrontational mood. Rachel looked him directly in the eyes.
“I was singing at the Blue Angel. I got there around 8 or so, went on stage at 10.30, as I usually do. I did my three sets, and came off stage for the last time at about 2, and spent an hour in my dressing room, until my driver arrived at 3. He took me to an all night diner on Aliceanna Street, same as always, and then dropped me home at around 3.30. I went to bed around 4, and slept until about 1. That’s it. But then, you already knew that.”
She looked unforgivingly at Frank, almost challenging to accuse her out loud.
“Did you see Martin LeFevre at all that night?” She nodded in affirmation.
“He was at the club with Emma. He brought her along sometimes, just to check up on how his clients were doing, whether they were earning him any money. They came in in the middle of my first set, and I didn’t notice them leave. I did see Emma talking with Guy for a while, though. She came back on her own after we closed. I was waiting for my ride, and I heard raised voices in the corridor. Emma was crying, and she passed Guy a bag. My ride turned up then. Guy and Emma left the club just as we were driving off. Is that what you wanted to know, Detective Pembleton?”
Her voice was shaky, as though she was about to cry. Stivers passed Rachel a tissue. Frank looked surprised.
“Did Martin come to see you in your dressing room that night?”
Rachel shook her head vehemently.
“He hasn’t been to see me between sets since we broke up.”
“So there was never any argument between you that night? You never even spoke to him? Not even to ask how he was?”
“Not a word. Like I said, he was in the audience with Emma, and that was the only time I saw him that night.”
“Why didn’t you tell us this on Tuesday morning, Rachel? Is there anything else you’re hiding from us?”
She shook her head. Tim was watching intently through the mirror. Why hadn’t she at least told him what had happened that night? As if reading his mind, Rachel began to speak again, more quietly this time.
“I didn’t tell you because Guy threatened me. He said that if I told anyone what I’d seen, I’d end up dead. I didn’t know what had happened when he said this. I’d just got to the club, and hadn’t had a chance to catch the news. I thought that he just meant that he was having an affair with Emma. And then when you and Detective Bayliss came to see me, I just got scared. I didn’t want to end up like Martin, so I figured it was better that I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want them to get away with it though. That’s why I told you about Emma. Do you believe me now? If Guy finds out that I’ve been talking to you, he’s going to kill me!”
She broke down in tears, and Tim felt totally helpless.
At that moment, Kellerman entered the box, and pulled Frank and Terri outside. Munch spoke for the first time since the questioning had begun
“Go and talk to her, Tim. Tell her what you’re feeling, otherwise you’re goin’ t’go nuts! I’ll stall Frank and Stivers. Go on.”
Tim smiled gratefully at Munch, and took his opportunity to slip into the box. He closed the blinds, and went over to the table.
“Why didn’t you at least tell me all of this? I’d have had something to lever Frank with, and you wouldn’t have had to go through all of this!”
Rachel looked at him, a surprised look in her eyes.
“You heard everything?”
Tim nodded. He took her hands in his, and raised them to his lips.
“I never doubted you, I want you to know that. I just wish that you’d told me! We could have ended all this a lot sooner. You know what this means, don’t you? We can start seeing each other properly, no more creeping around trying to avoid seeing anyone I work with.”
He smiled down at her, and moved to kiss her when Munch knocked on the window, signalling that Frank and Terri were on their way back. He kissed her lightly on the cheek, and left the box.
“Ms. Meyers, you’re free to go. We will need to take your prints before you go, but it’s just a formality. I’ll ask Detective Bayliss to do that, and then you can go. Sorry to have put you through this.”
Frank was almost apologetic, and left the room. He went into the room where Tim and Munch had been watching.
“She’s all yours, Tim. We found mud from the alley all over Guy’s shoes, and Emma’s prints were on file. We compared them to a second set on the gun and knife, and they matched. Looks like you were right, Timmy. I should have trusted you. Sorry, man.”
Tim smiled gratefully at Frank.
“And thanks for not pushing her too hard in there, Frank. That meant a lot to me.”
He reached out to hug Frank, but ended up just clapping him on the shoulder in a friendly gesture. Frank stared awkwardly at the floor, plainly embarrassed by Tim’s display of affection.
“Anyone got a print kit?” yelled Tim, wandering through the squadroom.
His face was wreathed in smiles, and he looked like a child at Christmas. Lewis lobbed one at him.
“Hey, Timmy! How’d your date go last night? Was she hot?!”
“She sure was!”
He headed back to the box with a spring in his step. Rachel was still sat at the table, her eyes focussed on nothing in particular. She looked up and smiled as Tim entered the box.
“I’m the lucky one who gets to take your prints! I’ll do anything to hold your hand…”
They smiled at each other, the closeness that they shared flooding back.
“Why are you letting me go? Detective Pembleton thinks I killed Martin.”
Tim shook his head, and concentrated on taking the prints form her left hand.
“Let’s just say that, thanks to you putting us onto Emma, we turned up some new evidence. I can’t tell you until we make an arrest, but I think you can guess what’s happened. There you go, all done. Do you want a wipe to clean you hands?”
She nodded, and smiled lasciviously.
“Yeah, but I want you to kiss me more than anything!”
He leaned over slowly, and gently kissed her lips.
“How about I take you home from here, and we grab something to eat? It’s getting late, and my shift’s almost over, so we have the whole evening together. Whaddya think?”
She finished cleaning her hands, and smiled broadly.
“I think that’s a great idea. Does the offer of staying with you still stand? I mean, I need police protection just in case Guy finds out I’ve been here…”
Tim smiled, and closed his hands over one of hers.
“Of course. You don’t think that I’d let you stay in your apartment with Guy on the loose, do you? We won’t be arresting him until morning, because we’re having to get enough evidence for a warrant together, so I guess I’ll have to protect you until then.”
Frank chose that moment to walk into the box.
“Gee asked if anyone could let Rachel stay the night as we can’t get the warrant before morning. I told him to speak to you, Bayliss. I didn’t think you’d mind,” he added with a sly smirk.
“If you wait in here, I’ll go to see Gee now, then we can go home. Can you wait with her, Frank?”
Frank nodded, and Tim left the box.
“Why did you think I killed Martin?”
Frank was slightly taken aback at her honesty.
“I don’t know. You were just the obvious suspect, and I wanted to close this quickly. I knew Tim was involved with you, and I didn’t want him to get hurt again. He was right, as it turned out. I should have trusted him, his instincts are usually right. I guess I ought to apologise. I’m sorry.”
He almost sounded sincere.
“That’s okay, Detective Pembleton. I understand. I know that you and Tim are very close, and you were just trying to protect him. I won’t hurt him, I promise you that. I already care too much about him to do that to him. I hope you can believe that.”
She smiled at him, and, slowly, he smiled back.
“He’s like a brother to me. He took a bullet for me a while back, and nearly died. Just make him happy.”
Frank walked out of the box, passing Tim on his way in.
“Let’s go. Gee’s okayed you staying with me, so it’s all above board, not that I really give a shit. What did Frank want?”
Rachel smiled up at him.
“He told me to make you happy. Come on, I don’t want to spend one more minute here.”
************
They bought food and wine on the way to Tim’s apartment, and also bought a change of clothes for Rachel. As they came out of the 7-11, Tim could keep his hands off Rachel no longer.
“I want you, Rachel. It’s all I was thinking about while you were in the box,” he murmured, as he pulled her close. “I want you to be there when I get home at night, when I wake up every morning. I can’t help it, you’re doing things to me that I never thought were possible!”
He kissed her hard, almost taking her breath away. Rachel looked bemused.
“What are you saying, Tim? That you want us to move in together?”
Her eyes were shining with excitement, and he could feel her tense up in readiness for his answer.
“I guess I am. I don’t expect you to answer yet, I mean, we hardly know each other, but, when you’re ready, I want us to be together all the time. I don’t know where this is going, but I want to do it properly, be a proper couple. I can’t promise it’ll last forever, but I want to find out. Please say you’ll at least think about it, Rachel.”
She smiled at him, and slowly nodded.
“Let’s take this one day at a time, huh? See how many nights in a row you can bear to spend with me after you find out what a slob I can be!”
She kissed him, and led him back to the car.
Tim ran a bath as Rachel busied herself in the kitchen. Fragrant aromas of chicken and tarragon wafted into the bathroom, overpowering the smell of the oil Tim was pouring into the bath. He had stripped to the waist, and was frothing the water to create a mass of bubbles. He padded through to the kitchen, and placed his wet hands over Rachel’s eyes. She squealed, and turned to face him.
“I’ll be through in a second. Just putting the chicken in the oven.”
Tim looked at her, and started to unbutton her blouse.
“Hey! Stop that! Let me at least finish sorting dinner!”
Tim laughed, and released her. He couldn’t remember a time when he had felt this alive. He watched as she closed the oven door, and turned to him.
“There. All yours! Do with me what you will…”
He led Rachel into the bathroom, which was lit with candles, and a chilled bottle of champagne stood on the windowsill.
“I thought we could take our first bath together, if you don’t mind. I want to hold you in my arms and feel you next to me. I hope it’s not too hot for you.”
Rachel turned around to face him, and cuddled in close.
“I’d like that.”
Tim bent to kiss her, and finished unbuttoning her blouse. She shrugged it from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. He reached around to her back and unfastened her bra, then slid his fingers underneath the flimsy material and cradled her full breasts in his hands. Rachel threw her head back with the sensation, and Tim took this opportunity to kiss her neck. She moaned softly, and reached down to unzip his pants. She slid them slowly down over his hips, taking his jockey shorts with them. Tim pulled her skirt down, and she stepped out of it. She was wearing a tiny lace thong, which Tim removed, savouring the touch of her skin.
He passed her a glass of champagne, and then climbed into the bath, motioning for Rachel to follow. The bath was very wide, and longer than average, and they fitted together comfortably. Rachel put down her glass, and lay in Tim’s arms. He began to caress her with slickly wet hands. The perfume of the oil was heavy in the air, a strangely sensual fragrance. Rachel’s eyes were heavy as she relaxed under Tim’s gentle touch. She felt him getting hard beneath her, and wriggled on top of him until he moaned with pleasure. She rolled over to face him, and kissed him very gently. Her hand moved to his crotch, and began to massage him expertly. He cried out, and begged her not to stop. Tim closed his eyes and threw his head back. Christ! She was going to make him come faster than he had ever done before! A small moan escaped his throat as he came into her hands. What was she doing to him? He opened his eyes and reached for a towel so that Rachel could wipe her hands. He smiled sleepily, and pulled her to him again.
Their bodies slid against each other as they kissed. Tim manoeuvred himself so that he was on top of Rachel, and then sat between her legs.
“Your turn, I think,” he whispered as his hand crept up the inside of her thigh.
She let out a sharp cry as his fingers reached their destination. Her whole body was pulsing with desire as he delicately caressed her. His other hand massaged her breasts, and her breath started coming in sharp little gasps. Tim carried on until she exploded, her whole body shaking. He reached forward and cradled her in his arms, until she was still once more. He kissed her deeply, holding her face in his hands.
“God, you’re amazing, Rachel. I don’t want this moment to end.”
She kissed him back, and they settled back into the warm, comforting water.
They were interrupted by the kitchen timer, indicating that the chicken was cooked.
“Damn! I’d better get that, or we’ll have no dinner tonight!”
Rachel hopped out of the bath and grabbed a towel, quickly tying it around her. Tim quickly followed suit, throwing on a bathrobe that was hanging on the wall. When he got to the kitchen, Rachel had removed what could only be described as a blackened corpse from the oven. She was trying not to giggle.
“I never said that cooking was my strong point! Would take-out be okay?”
She dissolved into paroxysms of laughter. Tim put his arms around her.
“I have something to confess. I altered the timer on the oven so that we could spend more time together. Do you forgive me?”
He was grinning broadly. She hit him gently on the chest.
“You bastard!”
Her expression belied her harsh words.
“Of course you’re forgiven! Now, you’d better find a good take-out, hadn’t you?”
She smiled at him again, and went into the bedroom to put on the clothes they had bought earlier.
The remains of the Chinese takeout were littered on the kitchen table, and the sound of Eric Clapton filtered through the apartment. Tim and Rachel were entwined on the sofa, kissing. Tim was shirtless, and Rachel was dressed in nothing but black lace underwear. They were interrupted by the telephone.
“Who the hell can that be? It’s gone eleven!”
Tim was annoyed that he had to let Rachel go as he answered the telephone.
“Bayliss,” he said sharply.
Rachel walked into the kitchen to get the remains of the bottle of wine. She poured it just as Tim was finishing on the telephone. He looked at her apologetically.
“I have to go. The warrant came through sooner than we were expecting, and I need to go to the station house before we arrest Guy. I’m going to take you with me, and you can wit at the station house for me. I’m not leaving you on your own tonight, Rachel. I’ll be as quick as I can, I promise.”
He put his shirt on, and Rachel picked up her clothes from the small pile on the floor.
A few minutes later, they arrived at the station house.
“Tim, do you mind if I wait in the Waterfront? I mean, Munch and Lewis know who I am, and I’d just feel a little more comfortable there. Is that okay?”
Tim kissed her gently.
“Of course it’s okay. I’d rather you weren’t in the stationhouse when we bring Guy and Emma in, anyway.”
They got out of the car, and Tim walked Rachel across to the bar.
“Hey, Lewis! Can you look after Rachel for me? We got that warrant, and we’re going to arrest him now. I know I owe you one, but this is really important.”
Lewis laughed.
“Timmy, you know I never complain about looking after a beautiful woman! I’ll take care of her, man. Just be careful, and make sure you come back in one piece, or I’m sure she’ll get mighty pissed!”
Tim clapped Lewis on the shoulder, kissed Rachel one last time, and headed over to the stationhouse.
************
Pembleton was already there, talking with a uniformed officer.
“Bayliss, we’ve had a surveillance team watching the place all night, and they radioed in few minutes ago to say that Emma’s arrived. Looks like we got ourselves a party! Where’s Rachel? You haven’t left her alone, have you?”
There was genuine concern in Frank’s voice, betraying his previous attitude towards Rachel Meyers. “She’s over at the Waterfront. Munch and Lewis have met her, so she’ll be safe enough. What time is this kicking off?” Despite his carefree attitude, Tim was worried about Rachel. What if something happened to her while he was at the club? What if something happened to him and they never saw each other again? That didn’t even bear thinking about. “We were just waiting for you, Timmy-Boy! Let’s go get these suckers!”
The exterior of the Blue Angel was quiet. The parking lot, unusually, was almost empty. Word must have got around that Rachel wasn’t singing at the moment. A uniformed team, led by Falsone, was ready to go into the rear entrance of the club, while the team led by Tim and Frank were at the front. The signal crackled over one of the radios, and the raid began. Tim was first through the front door, flashing his badge at the frightened woman behind the desk. He was followed by Frank and the five uniforms. Falsone’s team broke down the back door, prepared to stop anyone trying to make a swift exit. Tim and Frank’s team spread swiftly through the club, searching for Guy and Emma.
Suddenly, gunfire resounded from the rear of the club. The uniforms rushed through, to find Emma with a gun in her hands, and Falsone lying on the floor with a bullet wound in his throat. There was no way that he could still be alive.
“Get the fuck away from me, or I’ll take as many of you bastards with me as I can! I ain’t got nothin’ to lose! I killed Martin, and Guy fucked up getting’ rid of the body, so I killed that useless prick, too!”
It was obvious that she was high on heroin. Her eyes were like pinpricks, and it was clear that she was starting to have problems focussing. She pointed her gun towards Tim.
“It’s all your fault! If you hadn’t come onto me that day, you’d never have found me! I was getting out of this hole! I fuckin’ hate you! That bitch had everythin’ I ever wanted, and now she’s screwin’ the man who said he wanted to fuck me! You bastard! I oughta kill you! I wanna leave that bitch with nothin’!”
As she was saying this, Frank was already bringing his gun up. Without a second thought, he shot her, once, twice, and again. She dropped to the floor, blood pouring from the bullet holes in her chest and neck. Frank lowered his gun, and quietly left the scene. Tim found him outside the club, sat on the hood of the car.
"Frank?”
Just that one word was all he needed to say. Frank looked at him with hooded eyes. The street was swarming with squad cars and ambulances, the presence of the coroner’s van indicating the seriousness of the situation.
“I didn’t freeze this time, Timmy. I didn’t freeze this time…”
************
They rode back to the stationhouse in an uneasy silence. Tim spoke first.
“What did you mean by that, Frank? You didn’t freeze this time?”
Frank shook his head, and remained silent for a while.
“Tim, ever since you took that bullet for me, I’ve owed you my life, probably. You never expected anything of me, you just did it. I didn’t know why at the time. Now I do,” he said simply.
Tim smiled at Frank in the darkness.
“I didn’t expect anything back from you because I knew that you would have done the same for me, Frank. You proved that tonight.”
They lapsed into silence again, each concentrating on their own thoughts.
“Hey, Timmy! You took your time!”
Lewis was in a jocular mood. Rachel noticed the look of concern on Tim’s face.
“What’s happened? You look like death!”
Tim silently went behind the bar and poured himself a beer. He pulled long and hard on it before answering her.
“Guy and Emma are dead. She killed Martin. She’d also killed Guy before we got there. We thought we had it covered, but we lost Falsone. She shot him through the throat.”
Lewis looked stunned.
“Falsoney? Dead? Jeez!”
Rachel approached Tim, not knowing quite what to do. She tentatively put her hand on his arm, and he responded by pulling her close.
“She was going to shoot me,” he said hoarsely. “I wasn’t thinking. Frank shot her just as she was about to fire. She was shouting like a madwoman about you. That was why I couldn’t shoot her myself. God, I’m so glad to see you!”
He bent down and kissed her.
“I didn’t want you to be alone.”
Kellerman came staggering out of the men’s room.
“What was that? Someone got Falsone? Good. Couldn’t have happened to a more deserving person. Lewis, a celebratory drink, I think!”
Lewis smiled grimly, and poured Kellerman another scotch.
“I guess that means you’re out of a job now,” said Tim to Rachel.
She smiled mysteriously.
“Uh, not exactly. I got talking to Lewis and Munch while you were gone. They said that there’s a bit of a shortage of bar staff here at the moment. I told them I used to work the bars when I couldn’t get a gig, and they offered me the job. I need the money, so it would have been stupid to turn it down. I hope you don’t mind,” she added, momentarily concerned.
Tim looked amused.
“Of course I don’t mind! I’ll put up with anything if it means that we get to spend more time together. You can always sing here sometimes. We’ve been trying to get live music in here for a while, but never really got around to sorting it out.”
He kissed her slowly, but they were interrupted by Kellerman falling off his stool.
“When is he going to learn that alcohol and barstools don’t mix?” asked Lewis.
It was almost 2am when Tim and Rachel left the Waterfront.
“I was so worried about you this evening. I know how nasty Guy can get.”
Tim stopped walking and cuddled her into him.
“This is what it’s like a lot of the time, Rachel. Do you think you can handle dating a cop?”
He was genuinely concerned about her ability to cope with the fact that he was often in dangerous situations.
“I don’t know, Tim, but I’d like to try. What we’ve got is something special, and it’s worth trying to get right.”
She stood on tiptoe, and pulled his head down to hers. They stood, kissing, in the middle of the street for a long time.
“Will you stay with me every night, Rachel Meyers?” he asked gently.
“Only if you kiss me like this every night, Tim Bayliss…”
They kissed once more, and walked off, arm in arm, down the deserted street.