Talysia
Lady of Autumn
The directions that the control room had sent to Rick were accurate, and they intercepted the mugger on Southview Crescent. He did not come quietly, however. He launched the stolen purse into the bushes and took off. Dwight sought out the victim, whilst Rick all but leapt out of the car and sprinted after him.
Rick was no slouch: He had won the local precinct half-marathon twice, and he'd always kept in shape. Lindsay used to say that he was a fitness freak, but he had laughed and said that he had to be fit for the job. He caught the mugger within fifty yards and twisted one arm up behind his back.
Dwight had retrieved the stolen purse from the thick undergrowth where the mugger had thrown it and was now taking the victim's details. Rick had cuffed the suspect and arrested him. He walked over to Dwight.
When Rick saw the purse, suddenly it changed colour. Now, it was pink leather with gold clasps, just like the one he had bought Lindsay last Christmas. Strangely, he thought, it was exactly the same purse he had bought Lindsay, only now it was covered in blood stains; dappled with fresh wet red finger marks, and inside it was that same photograph; the photograph of Rick and… Rick realised that Dwight was speaking to him and he focused again.
"The radio!" Dwight said again. "Can you answer the radio?"
There was no pink purse at all, just an old battered black one; Rick had imagined it. He couldn’t explain what had just happened but it disturbed him. He went back to the car to answer the radio.
"Have you finished with the mugging?" The voice crackled over the radio.
Rick looked at Dwight, who had just finished taking the victim's details. Her slightly-curling blonde hair was just like Lindsay's, but he pushed the thought away. "Yes, we're just about done here. What's up?"
"Can you get to 23, Hollywood Heights? We've had an emergency call from there." The woman on the radio then told him the details of the callout, and he nodded absently.
Rick knew that address; they had been out to it before; only too frequently. The residents of number 23, Hollywood Heights seemed to call the police on any whim. What would it be this time? Locked themselves out of their apartment again, or maybe another suspicious-looking road sweeper sweeping the sidewalk?
“Well?” asked Dwight.
“It's a cat stuck up a tree!” replied Rick.
"That's a new one!" replied Dwight.
The car swerved into the only parking space on the road and stopped. For some reason, all throughout the encounter with the mugger, he had been thinking about Julie - and Lindsay. Why was he thinking about them? he wondered.
"I can't believe we're reduced to this," Dwight muttered, breaking Rick out of his reverie. "What, they couldn't send a firefighter to do this?"
They both looked up at the tree and sighed.
"I caught the mugger," said Rick, "this one is all yours!"
Dwight looked up and wondered how he was going to get the mewing moggy out of the tree. There was only one way.
Rick was absolutely astounded when Dwight began climbing the trunk and edged out to where the cat had got her belly caught in the narrow valley between two branches. Dwight had no fear about manhandling the cat, but he received some impressive wounds to his shoulder and arms on the way back down.
Dwight handed the spitting ginger cat back to its owner, a little girl, and sauntered jauntily back to the car. Rick sighed as he replaced the handset. "More trouble," he called. "Another drunken fight. It always happens at lunchtime, doesn't it?"
"Of course it does," Dwight grinned back as he got into the car, "because they all drink too much on their business lunches. I've never heard of a fight between two executives though! This'll be one for the newsletter."
Rick started the car around and headed for the location of the brawl, a rather upmarket little wine bar where a lot of management types took clients to impress them. Sure enough, a fight was underway, and one of the businessmen was swinging something at his opponent. "Typical," Rick muttered. "I wish they'd learn to hold their liquor."
Something resembling half a chair flew in a perfect arc through the air and landed on the windscreen of the squad car, resulting in a small crack in the glass. Rick braked and pulled up sharply at the kerbside. He looked at Dwight.
"I climbed up the tree for the cat," said Dwight, "This one is all yours!"
"All right, all right! Just settle down!" Rick called, getting out of the squad car and folding his arms across his chest. "Now, what's going on here?"
The two drunk businessmen continued to grapple back and forth, grunting and staggering until Dwight stepped in and got between them, forcing the two apart. One of the men subsided easily enough, but the other fought back a bit, brandishing what looked like the broken leg of a chair. Clearly these two must have stumbled out of the nearest bar.
"All right, you, get in the truck!" Rick was grateful that the control room had dispatched an Emergency Wagon, just in case.
While one man quietly got into the back of the vehicle, the other man in the suit picked up what remained of the chair and took a swing at Dwight. Clearly inebriated, although it wasn't even eleven o'clock, his sense of balance was not too good. He stumbled and almost fell. He waved the broken chair leg around in a completely ineffectual way that only succeeded in causing the seat to fly off to one side.
"Hey, calm down, or I'll have to arrest you!" Dwight said, seizing the drunk by the arm and dragging him off to one side. The drunken businessman struggled and tried to break free, but Dwight was too strong. "Ok, I warned you. I'm placing you under arrest. You have the right to remain silent, and you have the right to an attorney and all that. Get in there!" and he propelled the man forward to join the other drunk. Rick slammed the door shut and thumped twice on the side, signalling the driver to take them to the station.
The Police Emergency Wagon pulled away, the two drunks safely stowed away. Rick and Dwight got back into their own patrol car and drove away from the beach towards the centre of town.
"That was your wife’s sister, Julie, we saw earlier, wasn’t it? Peter saw you last week at Mick’s Bar with her? " said Dwight.
"And so what’s it to him?" asked Rick, irritated by the constant personal questions.
"Hey, no offense mate," replied Dwight, "but people talk. I just thought you’ve been spending a lot of time with her."
"Yeah! Well Lindsey gave me an ultimatum actually. Her or Julie!" replied Rick.
"Wow, it's that serious?" Dwight couldn't help himself from whistling in surprise.
"So you and Lindsey are...?"
"Exactly," Rick replied. He didn't really want to talk about it at all, but his partner never stopped bothering him until he had told him everything.
Dwight nodded as he pondered Rick's words. "Come on, my friend; let me buy you a coffee."
"And you can get some donuts at the same time?" Rick replied, grateful for the change of subject. The grin on Dwight's face told him that he had guessed correctly.
As Rick drove them back down Ocean Boulevard, he was surprised to pass Julie’s Dodge driving in the opposite direction, back towards his own house. Julie was driving, but there was that thick-set man with her again, the one from earlier in the day, sitting smiling in the passenger seat. Rick still didn’t know if Julie had ever told Lindsey about last week, but if she had Lindsey had never let on.
They pulled up outside the Dunkin Donuts and Rick turned off the engine. So far today it had been just a regular day - a couple of shoplifters, a cat up a tree, a mugging and a drunken fight - and it wasn't even lunchtime yet. Dwight looked at the donut shop and rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
"I'll be back in a bit. I just need something to fill the gap between now and lunch," he said, before closing the car door and sauntering off.
"Back in a bit," Rick echoed. "Yeah, right." He looked out of the car window and saw him head into the store.
Dwight had been gone a very long time. His partner was always hungry, and if he didn't do something about his weight soon then he was certainly going to fail his next physical.
Rick was bored and wanted to get going. There was a general call on the police radio for officers to respond to a 10-103. That was code for a Disturbance of some kind. They could have taken it if his fat sidekick got his act together.
Rick was still wondering where the hell Dwight was when his cell phone rang. He looked at the number and immediately recognised it as the station. 'Strange', he thought.
"Hello?" Rick said.
"Is that you Rick?"
"Yeah, what's up!"
He recognized the voice as Sally, the woman in charge of answering emergency calls at the station.
'Listen, Rick, we've had a call from your house,' she said. She sounded concerned, a fact which concerned him, too. He wondered what could have happened, especially as everything had been happy enough when he'd left that morning. 'There's been a disturbance. You'd better get over there.'
Rick saw Dwight smile and come out of the Dunkin Donuts, his mouth full. He was carrying a paper bag in each hand. Dwight tossed one of the bags of Donuts through the window to Rick, and then climbed into the passenger seat beside him. The radio crackled static. Rick was strangely silent.
'Rick, did you hear what I said? There's been a call stating that there's been a disturbance at your house,' the woman in the control room said. ‘There’s no other detail than that, but the man who called the station sounded like he was scared out of his wits. You'd better get over there, quickly!'
He listened to these words and stared. His cell phone fell silent.
'Trouble?' asked his partner.
Rick tried to dislodge the lump in his throat, but his voice came out strangled. 'You bet!... You know my address.'
'And--?'
'We are going there. NOW!'
It felt strange, driving through his own neighbourhood with the police siren blaring, heading to his own house. He pulled up right outside and turned the engine off.
Rick got out of his patrol car and he asked his partner to remain behind. He had been in the LA PD six years, and had never had a call like this one before. He walked up the drive and opened his own front door.
There was no noise inside the room, which was unheard of: There was at least music playing or something when she was there.
Rick clacked the door and stood there, staring. Julie was lying on the sofa, eyes wide open. She clutched something against her chest. No! It can't be true, he thought. She knows...
He should leave, run as far away as he could, and leave this madness behind him.
‘But what about Lindsey?’ he thought. Rick stood next to the sofa in disbelief, he couldn't believe what he'd just done, and he quickly shook Julie awake and got dressed without a word.
Julie gave him the purse, got dressed in a hurry and walked out of his life forever.
Rick entered the bedroom carrying the purse; it was stained with the blood of his now dead wife Lindsey. He froze as his gaze drifted over the dresser.
Had she moved it, or had someone else been there?
He had seen it on the coffee table downstairs, which was funny, because it normally sat on the living room windowsill. At the time, he had thought nothing of it. At the time, when he had thought she was... But why was it there? Rick stared at the dresser where Lindsey's watch lay abandoned. He turned the purse over in his hands, touching a finger to the now-cool bloodstain.
She was beyond reach now, just as she had been during all those lost years, when she was impossible to find. He had tried all he could; there was nothing left to do. Rick dropped the bloodstained purse beside the canopy bed he'd promised his wife she'd be sleeping in that weekend, hoping in the next life; he'd be able to keep the promise.
Rick was no slouch: He had won the local precinct half-marathon twice, and he'd always kept in shape. Lindsay used to say that he was a fitness freak, but he had laughed and said that he had to be fit for the job. He caught the mugger within fifty yards and twisted one arm up behind his back.
Dwight had retrieved the stolen purse from the thick undergrowth where the mugger had thrown it and was now taking the victim's details. Rick had cuffed the suspect and arrested him. He walked over to Dwight.
When Rick saw the purse, suddenly it changed colour. Now, it was pink leather with gold clasps, just like the one he had bought Lindsay last Christmas. Strangely, he thought, it was exactly the same purse he had bought Lindsay, only now it was covered in blood stains; dappled with fresh wet red finger marks, and inside it was that same photograph; the photograph of Rick and… Rick realised that Dwight was speaking to him and he focused again.
"The radio!" Dwight said again. "Can you answer the radio?"
There was no pink purse at all, just an old battered black one; Rick had imagined it. He couldn’t explain what had just happened but it disturbed him. He went back to the car to answer the radio.
"Have you finished with the mugging?" The voice crackled over the radio.
Rick looked at Dwight, who had just finished taking the victim's details. Her slightly-curling blonde hair was just like Lindsay's, but he pushed the thought away. "Yes, we're just about done here. What's up?"
"Can you get to 23, Hollywood Heights? We've had an emergency call from there." The woman on the radio then told him the details of the callout, and he nodded absently.
Rick knew that address; they had been out to it before; only too frequently. The residents of number 23, Hollywood Heights seemed to call the police on any whim. What would it be this time? Locked themselves out of their apartment again, or maybe another suspicious-looking road sweeper sweeping the sidewalk?
“Well?” asked Dwight.
“It's a cat stuck up a tree!” replied Rick.
"That's a new one!" replied Dwight.
The car swerved into the only parking space on the road and stopped. For some reason, all throughout the encounter with the mugger, he had been thinking about Julie - and Lindsay. Why was he thinking about them? he wondered.
"I can't believe we're reduced to this," Dwight muttered, breaking Rick out of his reverie. "What, they couldn't send a firefighter to do this?"
They both looked up at the tree and sighed.
"I caught the mugger," said Rick, "this one is all yours!"
Dwight looked up and wondered how he was going to get the mewing moggy out of the tree. There was only one way.
Rick was absolutely astounded when Dwight began climbing the trunk and edged out to where the cat had got her belly caught in the narrow valley between two branches. Dwight had no fear about manhandling the cat, but he received some impressive wounds to his shoulder and arms on the way back down.
Dwight handed the spitting ginger cat back to its owner, a little girl, and sauntered jauntily back to the car. Rick sighed as he replaced the handset. "More trouble," he called. "Another drunken fight. It always happens at lunchtime, doesn't it?"
"Of course it does," Dwight grinned back as he got into the car, "because they all drink too much on their business lunches. I've never heard of a fight between two executives though! This'll be one for the newsletter."
Rick started the car around and headed for the location of the brawl, a rather upmarket little wine bar where a lot of management types took clients to impress them. Sure enough, a fight was underway, and one of the businessmen was swinging something at his opponent. "Typical," Rick muttered. "I wish they'd learn to hold their liquor."
Something resembling half a chair flew in a perfect arc through the air and landed on the windscreen of the squad car, resulting in a small crack in the glass. Rick braked and pulled up sharply at the kerbside. He looked at Dwight.
"I climbed up the tree for the cat," said Dwight, "This one is all yours!"
"All right, all right! Just settle down!" Rick called, getting out of the squad car and folding his arms across his chest. "Now, what's going on here?"
The two drunk businessmen continued to grapple back and forth, grunting and staggering until Dwight stepped in and got between them, forcing the two apart. One of the men subsided easily enough, but the other fought back a bit, brandishing what looked like the broken leg of a chair. Clearly these two must have stumbled out of the nearest bar.
"All right, you, get in the truck!" Rick was grateful that the control room had dispatched an Emergency Wagon, just in case.
While one man quietly got into the back of the vehicle, the other man in the suit picked up what remained of the chair and took a swing at Dwight. Clearly inebriated, although it wasn't even eleven o'clock, his sense of balance was not too good. He stumbled and almost fell. He waved the broken chair leg around in a completely ineffectual way that only succeeded in causing the seat to fly off to one side.
"Hey, calm down, or I'll have to arrest you!" Dwight said, seizing the drunk by the arm and dragging him off to one side. The drunken businessman struggled and tried to break free, but Dwight was too strong. "Ok, I warned you. I'm placing you under arrest. You have the right to remain silent, and you have the right to an attorney and all that. Get in there!" and he propelled the man forward to join the other drunk. Rick slammed the door shut and thumped twice on the side, signalling the driver to take them to the station.
The Police Emergency Wagon pulled away, the two drunks safely stowed away. Rick and Dwight got back into their own patrol car and drove away from the beach towards the centre of town.
"That was your wife’s sister, Julie, we saw earlier, wasn’t it? Peter saw you last week at Mick’s Bar with her? " said Dwight.
"And so what’s it to him?" asked Rick, irritated by the constant personal questions.
"Hey, no offense mate," replied Dwight, "but people talk. I just thought you’ve been spending a lot of time with her."
"Yeah! Well Lindsey gave me an ultimatum actually. Her or Julie!" replied Rick.
"Wow, it's that serious?" Dwight couldn't help himself from whistling in surprise.
"So you and Lindsey are...?"
"Exactly," Rick replied. He didn't really want to talk about it at all, but his partner never stopped bothering him until he had told him everything.
Dwight nodded as he pondered Rick's words. "Come on, my friend; let me buy you a coffee."
"And you can get some donuts at the same time?" Rick replied, grateful for the change of subject. The grin on Dwight's face told him that he had guessed correctly.
As Rick drove them back down Ocean Boulevard, he was surprised to pass Julie’s Dodge driving in the opposite direction, back towards his own house. Julie was driving, but there was that thick-set man with her again, the one from earlier in the day, sitting smiling in the passenger seat. Rick still didn’t know if Julie had ever told Lindsey about last week, but if she had Lindsey had never let on.
They pulled up outside the Dunkin Donuts and Rick turned off the engine. So far today it had been just a regular day - a couple of shoplifters, a cat up a tree, a mugging and a drunken fight - and it wasn't even lunchtime yet. Dwight looked at the donut shop and rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
"I'll be back in a bit. I just need something to fill the gap between now and lunch," he said, before closing the car door and sauntering off.
"Back in a bit," Rick echoed. "Yeah, right." He looked out of the car window and saw him head into the store.
Dwight had been gone a very long time. His partner was always hungry, and if he didn't do something about his weight soon then he was certainly going to fail his next physical.
Rick was bored and wanted to get going. There was a general call on the police radio for officers to respond to a 10-103. That was code for a Disturbance of some kind. They could have taken it if his fat sidekick got his act together.
Rick was still wondering where the hell Dwight was when his cell phone rang. He looked at the number and immediately recognised it as the station. 'Strange', he thought.
"Hello?" Rick said.
"Is that you Rick?"
"Yeah, what's up!"
He recognized the voice as Sally, the woman in charge of answering emergency calls at the station.
'Listen, Rick, we've had a call from your house,' she said. She sounded concerned, a fact which concerned him, too. He wondered what could have happened, especially as everything had been happy enough when he'd left that morning. 'There's been a disturbance. You'd better get over there.'
Rick saw Dwight smile and come out of the Dunkin Donuts, his mouth full. He was carrying a paper bag in each hand. Dwight tossed one of the bags of Donuts through the window to Rick, and then climbed into the passenger seat beside him. The radio crackled static. Rick was strangely silent.
'Rick, did you hear what I said? There's been a call stating that there's been a disturbance at your house,' the woman in the control room said. ‘There’s no other detail than that, but the man who called the station sounded like he was scared out of his wits. You'd better get over there, quickly!'
He listened to these words and stared. His cell phone fell silent.
'Trouble?' asked his partner.
Rick tried to dislodge the lump in his throat, but his voice came out strangled. 'You bet!... You know my address.'
'And--?'
'We are going there. NOW!'
It felt strange, driving through his own neighbourhood with the police siren blaring, heading to his own house. He pulled up right outside and turned the engine off.
Rick got out of his patrol car and he asked his partner to remain behind. He had been in the LA PD six years, and had never had a call like this one before. He walked up the drive and opened his own front door.
There was no noise inside the room, which was unheard of: There was at least music playing or something when she was there.
Rick clacked the door and stood there, staring. Julie was lying on the sofa, eyes wide open. She clutched something against her chest. No! It can't be true, he thought. She knows...
He should leave, run as far away as he could, and leave this madness behind him.
‘But what about Lindsey?’ he thought. Rick stood next to the sofa in disbelief, he couldn't believe what he'd just done, and he quickly shook Julie awake and got dressed without a word.
Julie gave him the purse, got dressed in a hurry and walked out of his life forever.
Rick entered the bedroom carrying the purse; it was stained with the blood of his now dead wife Lindsey. He froze as his gaze drifted over the dresser.
Had she moved it, or had someone else been there?
He had seen it on the coffee table downstairs, which was funny, because it normally sat on the living room windowsill. At the time, he had thought nothing of it. At the time, when he had thought she was... But why was it there? Rick stared at the dresser where Lindsey's watch lay abandoned. He turned the purse over in his hands, touching a finger to the now-cool bloodstain.
She was beyond reach now, just as she had been during all those lost years, when she was impossible to find. He had tried all he could; there was nothing left to do. Rick dropped the bloodstained purse beside the canopy bed he'd promised his wife she'd be sleeping in that weekend, hoping in the next life; he'd be able to keep the promise.
