2 AM Phone calls suck
Meegan was pulled from the fog of sleep, by the soft brrrrrtp brrrrrtp of the bed-side phone. Jeeves took all calls somewhere else in the house, so she knew it had to be important. Fumbling hands finally found the sleek black receiver and squashed it against her ear.
"Hello?" Her voice was high, soft, and child-like from sleep, she gave a small cough to clear it.
"Ms. Masters?" Came the gruff voice of a man who had been up all night and was not used to it.
"Speaking." She cleared her throat again, hoping the next time she spoke it would sound normal. It occurred to her, that perhaps she should be a bit worried about this phone call, but sleep still drugged her mind.
"Ms. Masters, this is Detective Johnson of the Nachton PD. We're going to need you to come down to your condo."
She sat upright too quickly and it made her head spin a bit. "Why? Is there something wrong?" 'Oh, Wait, maybe they found a murdered Panos, that would be a good thing, right?"
"Yes, ma'am there is." He cleared his own throat. He haded this part of his job. Being a homicide detective he had to do it a lot, but he still hated it. "It seems someone did a right number on your condo here and left a bit of a mess. Also someone was killed here. After we determined it wasn't you, we called your factory and got your emergency contact number, and called you there at Swiftwood Manor."
'Is that what this place is called? Interesting.' She wanted to be scared or feel violated, but she knew who had done these things in her home and she was not in the least bit surprised, mostly she was mad. Very, very mad.
"Thank you detective. It will take me half an hour or so to get there. Will that be alright?"
"Yes, ma'am. We'll be here. Sorry to wake you like this."
"That's alright detective, good-bye." He listened to the dial tone for a moment. She seemed awful calm for a woman who had been woken from a dead sleep at two in the morning and told someone had been killed in her place. She knows something, he was certain of that, very certain. He was determined to find out just what she knew.
"Jeeves I need to go to my condo. Can you get a car ready while I dress and wake Rachyl, also some coffee to go would be nice."
"Yes, Lady Meegan."
She let go of the button and rolled from the bed, her feet landed on a pair of tiny white slippers. Things like this either creeped her out or made her very glad to have Jeeves around. This was one of the glad times, she would be creeped out by it later. Sliding her feet into the slippers she made her way to the door, took a left and at the end of the hall a right. This hall held two bedroom suites, Rachyl's was on the left-hand wall. Meegan tried the knob hoping Rachyl wasn't creeped out enough to lock her door. It opened silently in her hand and Meegan crossed to the bed.
She sat gently down on the edge and thought about how to wake Rachyl. She'd never woken her before. An alarm or her own body's needs had always woken Rachyl when they were together. So she really didn't know if she would come up swinging or not. She opted for softly calling her name.
After several tries Rachyl's eyes slowly opened, then quickly filled with worry, at the sight of Meegan.
"It's ok. Well it's not, but I'm ok. The police called. Someone trashed my place, we need to go over there. Jeeves is getting a car ready, can you be ready to leave in five minutes?"
Meegan knew Rachyl had lots of questions, but they could wait for the drive, she needed to get dressed as well. She gave Rachyl a small smile and a quick peck on the cheek and left the room.
In her own room, she pulled off the light purple night gown and pulled on a pair of black jeans that only had a few extra pockets and chains, she really didn't own a pair of plain jeans, she would need to remedy that, and a black t-shirt with a picture of a pissed off kitten, that said "Feelin' froggy?"
She visited the restroom, and then pulled her hair into a ponytail. She put on a pair of socks and black combat boots, grabbed one of her leather jackets and left the room. She met Rachyl in the hall and they headed for the front door.
"Coffee for Lady Meegan, and tea for Ms. Rachyl."
"Thank you, Jeeves." Meegan inhaled the fragrant steam and gave a grateful smile to the butler. "Where's Aron?"
"Master Aron is at a business meeting."
Meegan nodded over her cup of coffee, taking the first scalding sip. Jeeves lead them to one of the stately sedans that had been left running in the driveway and helped them into the back seat. Meegan settled on the seat with her feet tucked against her bottom and her hands wrapped around her mug. Her anger vibrated through her like some living thing and it was just about all she could do to control it for the moment.
The only person who had access to it other than Meegan, Veronica, Jeeves, and herself was...
Yeah. "Smooth move, exlax."
Great.
Sipping the tea didn't help the suddenly-sick feeling she was carrying in her stomach.
"I do hope Mrs. Carmichael is okay..."
"Panos would have found some other way of sending whatever message he's left us. Of which I am sure there is one. Probably something stupid like, 'This is what I'm going to do to you, you fire fly from hell.' Or something equally stupid."
Yes, because jokes were the best thing for right now, no really. Meegan sighed softly and took a sip from her coffee. She needed the caffeine like she needed a hole in the head, but the normalness of it was comforting.
"I can't imagine what sparked him, but I can assure you that none of this is your fault. At least I don't see it that way."
She had wanted Panos being in Meegan's space Rachyl's fault, to have someone to blame, but it really wasn't. Her home was public record and he would have gone there eventually anyway. Now she just wondered if his obsession had gone from possession to revenge. Possession she could handle, revenge was a different matter entirely. Revenge meant he wanted her dead, and she wasn't willing to live with dead.
Rachyl knew what it was like to have the peace of her life upset. Granted, it wasn't anything on the order of what a celebrity of Meegan's stature might endure. It just seemed life always had its ways of rearing its evil twin and being a bitch about things.
Her father. Her appendix. Her... incident. Panos. Meegan. Veronica. Why did it seem that she couldn't keep someone she liked in her life? Well, she didn't much like Panos. But without him, would...
"Shut up, Rachyl, and just don't think it. One day these regrets and doubts and what-ifs will go away and you'll be happy with someone. Just stop."
She finished her tea, even though it was cold, by the time they pulled up to Meegan's condo. Police cars, an ambulance, and that cliche "police line - do not cross" yellow tape marred the previously homey feeling of Meegan's building.
"Ms. Masters?"
"Yes. Detective Johnson?"
He touched his finger to his hat, and gave a short nod with his head. "Ma'am." He gave her a moment. Some folks, just started talking others, remained silent until you spoke. He needed to know if he was to be her guide or her inquisitor. She stood there quietly looking up at the windows of her place. She definitely wasn't a talker. He sighed softly, and took out his notebook and pen. He'd question her then take her up. Since once she saw the place she might not be able to talk.
"Do you have any idea who would do this?"
Meegan turned empty eyes on the man, their normal verdant brilliance was washed out and hallow. "No, I know."
She crossed her arms and began to rub her right hand absently up and down her left arm. "Can you enlighten me, please?"
"It was him. The same man that broke into my studio. It's a studio, not a factory by the way."
Johnson scratched his head just above his ear, a gesture that almost always portrayed annoyance. It was the only outward sign that he felt anything at all. "And you know this how?"
Meegan's eyes flashed something, what the detective couldn't tell, but he had struck some kind of nerve and he'd keep hitting it until she spilled.
"Because he's a deranged man, who for some reason is obsessed with me. By what you say that obsession has turned to revenge. I don't know why, but it seems now he wants me a little closer to mother nature."
"And just when did you plan to share this with police?"
"You never asked. Not once did an officer ask me questions about the break in at my studio, not once was I approached. Why should I come to you when I can keep myself safer than you can keep me? Why should I run to the boys in blue, if they won't even bother to tell me two men were murdered in front of my place of business? Why would I even think of trusting any information to the big bad police, when they don't do everything they can to find the truth for me? Tell me why, detective."
Johnson just looked at her. She was pissed, not scared or worried, not numb or resigned to her fate, she was flat pissed. This man had done more to her, than she was telling. He needed a name more than anything. He wondered if after that diatribe, she'd be willing to give it.
"I can't say, Ms. Masters. I'm not assigned to that case. Alls I know is that we didn't get the whole story and for that I'm sorry. I'll do my best to make sure we get it now. Can you tell me his name Ms. Masters?"
Meegan gave a mirthless chuckle and shook her head. She was a bit tired of being treated like a stupid woman, and wanted to go see what the beast had done to her place. As she and the officer talked, she had felt Rachyl slide up behind her. The heat from her friend's body was a comfort and she needed all the comfort she could get.
"Yes, I can, but that doesn't mean I will. You see Detective Johnson, I do not know that it will help. It is my guess that the name I know is not the name he uses in polite society. It is also my guess that I can give you this name and you will find nothing of record on it. It is also my guess that the name I know, and the entirely different name Rachyl knows will find you nothing. Now again just a guess, but the one I know may very well be his real name. It sounds like a real name."
Johnson lifted an eyebrow at her. She was full of piss and vinegar and he must be going about this the wrong way. Well, nothing but to continue. If he changed tactics now, she'd become even more guarded.
"Ok how about you give me this name you have. Let us worry about what we find or don't find. Or are you worried about your safety once his name is given?"
Meegan laughed then. It was full of disbelief, and flat out amusement at his ignorance. She very well would not be the one to inform Nachton's finest that the things that go bump in the night were real. When she had calmed she shoved her hands into her pockets and spoke in an even voice.
"I want to see my home now, Detective."
Rachyl stepped just in front of Meegan. "How about you start to comprehend the very succinct English with which Ms. Masters is speaking, accept the fact that you won't find any more on this man than we have in our own Internet searches, and just show us how her home has been affected?"
"The security system has been disarmed so that we can go in and out freely."
Meegan lifted an eyebrow at him, she didn't know they could do that. That did not make her feel safer in the least. As they entered and passed Mrs. Carmichael's door, Meegan stopped and turned toward the detective.
"Is Mrs. Carmichael ok?"
The detective gave a small mirthless chuckle"Interestin' story that. She was the one that called nine one one. Seems she heard loud noises from Ms. Masters' floor and knew that she hadn't been home in a couple of days, and thought someone had broke in. The dispatcher instructed her to remain in her home with the door locked. She hung up, and went to hide we presume. After we had arrived, and had been here a bit. One of the uniforms noticed she hadn't come out or answered her door. So we gained entry and found her sitting in the closet with a .32 special on her knees, and a half empty bottle of cooking sherry clutched to her chest."
Meegan coughed to keep from laughing. That sounded exactly like Mrs. C. Well at least she was unharmed. She continued up the stairs and stopped again in front of her door, which stood propped open by a wedge of wood marked NPD. From where she stood she saw only a small strip of her condo, and that small portion was in shambles.
Her shoulders slumped forward, as her hand went to her mouth to stifle a shoulder shaking sob. She was certain in that moment she would not be able to go any deeper into what used to be her home.
She looked over the near-pink hair of the designer at the policeman, who now seemed sheepish, and less surprised and more human, now that Meegan was displaying emotion.
Indeed, Rachyl even felt her eyes watering, and a tear rolled down her cheek onto Meegan's head.
"I don't think we'll be going inside." She couldn't help but whisper.
(( permission given ))
"But someone has to go in and make sure nothing was stolen."
"I will go in. I am intimate enough with the surroundings to know if anything was taken."
Johnson just looked him up and down. 'Who was this guy? Well I won't know if I don't ask.' "And just -who- are you?"
"I am Jeeves. Lady Meegan's personal body guard among other things. Now do you wish to have someone look around or shall we just leave?"
The detective gave him a curt nod and led him through the front door. Jeeves knocked the wedge from under the door and let it swing shut. There was absolutly no sense in forcing the view on Lady Meegan.
She found one of her hands in Meegan's hair, holding her still, though still quaking with emotion, against her. Stroking gently, she waited outside the condo with Meegan, wondering what Jeeves would find.
"I need to sit down" She whispered helplessly to Rachyl. She went docilly as her friend led her to the steps that lead up to the roof. They settled on the third step and Meegan let herself be held and comforted, as she had as a small child. It was not a sign of weakness. She had just lost everything that she could call her own, things that defined her, things that she loved and cherish. Things she had had for years, things that could not be replaced.
He pulled a small, thin, silver digital camera from his inner breast pocket. When the detective made to stop him he explained.
"For the insurance adjusters. I do not plan to come back here again and Lady Meegan will not be entering this domicile ever again, it must be done now."
The detective nodded and sent Jeeves about his business. He did his best to ignore the uniformed officers that had been stationed in each room, finding one of the few bits of floor not covered in glass or shredded cloth.
Jeeves started with the kitchen. He had never seen so much smashed pottery in his life, Meegan must have owned a great deal of lovely things to make such a mess. He snapped several photos and moved to the Living room. Glass, crome and pillow stuffing covered the fool, it was like a glittering cotton field. Several pictures led him into the sun room.
A deep inhalation of breath was the only sign of affectation he allowed. This had been the most beautiful room he had ever seen, and was deeply disturbed by it's destruction. Even the lovely little circular fire place had been destroyed. Her immense collection of music and movies some of which he knew were no longer in circulation had been rendered into so much rainbow colored plastic confetti. The pictures took him longer in here as there was much to document.
The entire contents of the hall cabinets had been made into a pile of shredded garbage and chemicals on the floor, he stepped gingerly over the end of it to get to the guest room. Her design and creation area was now just ragged piles of lovely cloth. He sighed and snapped the pictures before picking his way to her bedroom.
The scene there was not what he had expected at all. He knew they had found a dead body here, but he had not expected so -much- blood. It soaked the surface of Meegan's lovely bed, and had dripped in to now black puddles on the floor. Could a single body really hold that much blood? He took photos of it all, including the piles of rags all her lovely clothes had been made into. Her vanity was destroyed along with her entire collection of literature. That made him angry, no one should ever destroy a book, ever.
When he was finished, he returned to the living room and the waiting detective.
"I am done. Nothing was taken. No it was all destroy. He took only his hatred with him."
He followed the detective out, careful to shut the door behind him.
"Lady Meegan, let us return home now."
"Yes. Please." Her voice was hoarse with crying and full of the grief still roaring in her head. She slipped her hand into his and allowed him to very literally pull her to her feet. When her knees would not hold her, strong arms caught her up and cradled her like a small child.
Jeeves carried his new Mistress to the car and slid her into the backseat, before moving to open the opposite door for Rachyl. Once they had Meegan buckled and settled against Rachyl's shoulder, he slipped into the drivers seat and headed for the Manor. He had much to share with Master Aron, upon his return.
Meegan closed her eyes against the light and noise of the crowd outside her condo, and kept them closed as she was settled into the car. When her head was once more resting on Rachyl's shoulder, silent tears began to leak from beneath swollen lids once more. By the time they reached the Manor, Meegan was sound asleep, silver tears drying on her cheeks.
Then a semi-sobering thought crystallized in her: It was only a matter of time before that had happened, whether she had put him up at the condo or not. And, she further realized, there would have been a good chance Meegan would have been there when it happened.
She looked down at the mussed hair of her love next to her, felt the slow intakes of breath, and knew she was sleeping. Rachyl was glad, immensely, unarticulatably glad, that Meegan was safe.
And when they drove up the drive to the Manor... she knew she'd help keep her that way.