Love in the Time of Terror - Book Two of The Loveable Resident Series

 Folks,

My Muse and I had an idea to add more chapters to our Book, Love in the Time of Terror.  It was a good way to end the book in a satisfactory way. We want our Readers to come away from reading the Book with a good feeling.  We hope that you will find the book in Amazon and buy a copy.  If you want a Kindle book instead, it's also there and if You're a Kindle Unlimited member, it's FREE.

Sincerely,

Mary Faderan

KICK

 Folks, 

I'm about 20K words into the story.  Some 15 chapters.  I am eager to get it off my desk.  I think of the story every so often when I'm not actively writing.  I hope that you will like it, those of you who have either read the first book or have not read it. It, KICK, will bring you up to speed.

M.

Holiday Time

 is when I hope to finish The Loveable Resident Sequel - KICK.

The Sequel to The Loveable Resident

 Folks,

I've taken up writing (resuming) the Sequel.  It's getting interesting!

Screenplay story concept - The Lost Girl

See my writing dot com story idea here:

https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2233488-Idea-concept-for-a-sci-fi-story 

The Loveable Resident - Chapter Twenty-Nine

All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright Mary Faderan and Colin Firth

It was almost five o’clock when Lauren found herself
driving through US 19 and espied a grocery at the corner stop.
She had a snack for lunch and then decided it was best to get
some additional food before finding a hotel to stay in. The
place seemed to be deserted, and then right as she slowed to a
stop, her car shuddered and listed toward the front right
corner. “Oh no!” Her face registered half panic, and she
got out and investigated her car’s problem.
A voice called out to her from the store, “Looks to me,
Ma’am, as you got yersel’ a tire flat.”
“Oh, is that what it is?” She tried not to sound anxious.
This was certainly not expected.
“I reckon so, Ma’am.”
“Is there any tire place around?”
“I don’t think we have one close by. Somewhere’s
closer to the city limits, I reckon. You got some lookin’ to do!”
The man was sitting by the grocery store, his face wizened in
years, his mouth chewing a wad of tobacco.
Lauren stood with hands on her hips. “Is there a hotel
around?” she asked.
“Oh, it’s somewhere by the other side of the county
road. About six miles or more.”
She decided it was not that far away. She called her
roadside assistance, and they directed her to the nearest hotel,
which was, in fact, six miles away. “I’ll be able to walk that
f“Kind of getting dark, miss,” said the wizened old man.
“I’ll be fine.”
He looked at her and rolled his eyes.
She hoisted her luggage out of the trunk and started
her pilgrimage to the hotel. She kept her cell phone on so that
she could be directed by the GPS to the hotel. The evening
was slowly creeping in, and her spirits sagged with each step.
Finally, when she was almost to the hotel, she stopped when
she heard a motor engine approach.
Lauren looked around and saw a black automobile
come down toward her path. She wasn’t eager to linger, so she
tried to avoid the car’s path and walked to the side. The car
slowed down and then came alongside her.
“Lauren?” A familiar voice came to her ears.
She stopped and dropped her luggage. She saw him,
and her face broke into a smile.”
Mike got out of the car and went to her, hugging her
close and lifting her to him for a long kiss.
She looked up at him with love in her eyes. “Oh my
god. You of all people. Here!” she said with a sob. “I’d no
idea!”
“They never told you?” Mike said softly.
“No. Dad didn’t say where you went. They all
conspired to keep me from learning where you would be.”
“Damn. I suppose it might be he was protecting you.”
“Oh, Mike, I’m so very happy!” Tears flowed from her
eyes.
“Don’t cry, dearest Lauren. I’m going to take you
home. You and I can talk about it, and then we will make
plans.”
“OK,” she said simply and watched as he took her
luggage and tossed it inside the car.
“Let’s get inside, my love. I’m driving us to the hotel.
My house is a hard one to live in.”
Lauren saw his lanky figure and started crying again.
“You have lost weight!”
“Not to worry. Just trying to get through the day.”
“Well, I will make it a point that you will eat good
meals every day.”
He paused and then looked at her. “How will you do
that? You live in Columbus. Are you sending me care
packages?”
“No.” She bit her lip. “I’d like to marry you, you silly
man. What do you think about that?”
He laughed and shook his head. “Not yet. When I’m
free of this sentence, you and I will be married.”
“Oh no,” Lauren said with her jaw set, “I’m not letting
you out of my sight. Mike, I’ve been thinking of us for a long
time. I know you think it’s better to wait, but I’m ready to give
up my job and be your wife. I want to help you with your job.
Maybe you need a second person there or third somebody. I
can be your nurse’s aide, whatever.”
“Wait, wait, wait. Why not let us take you to the hotel,
and we can have a meal and talk?”
She looked at him and then said “OK. We will talk.”
The hotel had a room to spare. It was not a big hotel,
and it had some cosmetic issues, but neither of them saw the
defects. Both were escorted to the top floor and then left with
their key in hand. “The dining room is open till eight tonight,”
the manager said.
“Good. Let’s see what they have tonight,” Mike said
with a happy smile on his face. Then as the door closed, they
fell into each other’s arms and kissed hungrily.
Once they were satisfied that the other’s ardor was real
and that neither would disappear from view, they decided to
take their meals downstairs.
Lauren looked across the table at Mike and said, “You
seem different now.”
“How?”
“You aren’t a restless soul anymore. It’s a good thing.”
“I’m happy now. I like my work,” he said. “I’m
thinking I’ll go into practice at one of the small private clinics
in Columbus maybe—that is, if that is where you want us to
live.”
“I’ll live anywhere that you want to live, Mike.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.”
“What if we lived somewhere around here? Would that
be OK with you?”
She considered it and then nodded. “Yes. I could do
some legal work here, something to help the community.
Would that be OK with you?”
“Yes, I think that would work.”
They ate in silence, happily aware that their love was
secure and that their lives would never be apart again. Mike
uttered a silent thanks to God as he surreptitiously observed
Lauren. He loved her deeply, he knew now. It wasn’t just an
affair. He wanted to have a good life with her, and this was
where God had placed him. And she was open to the life that
he had started to lead there.
“It’s not the same life you had before,” she said as
though reading his mind.
“No.”
“Do you not miss it at all?”
“No. I’ve no desire to get entangled with the trappings
of success. I was made to want a lot of things, including being
a surgeon, not really knowing that this was what I wanted. I
had some talks with Mom, and she helped me think about
things—how sometimes life deals us a bitter hand but it all
comes out OK in the end. She said that she’s been praying that
I would find peace.”
“You didn’t have much before.”
“No.” He reached for her hand and held it. “I’ve known
how it is to fear the loss of love and of a loved one. I don’t
ever want to have that feeling again. I didn’t know if that man
had any way to get to you. I had to say things to him that
would distract him from getting you in his clutches.”
“You mean that mob guy.”
“Yes.”
“That’s all over with. He’s serving time, and everything
has been kept confidential about your case.” She returned the
pressure of his grasp. “You know you can come back and
work as a surgeon again when things get finished here.”
“No, I don’t want it. I am going to stay here and see
where it goes. If you want to live with me, I’d love it forever.”
“I’ll love being with you here or anywhere else in this
world, Mike.”

The Loveable Resident - Chapter Twenty-Eight

All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright Mary Faderan and Colin Firth

There was a bad storm brewing when Mike Oates
finally decided to call it a day that night. He had been
working ten-hour days for weeks since he last saw his mother.
He was beat, and he knew it. It was the only way to serve his
time so he could get done quicker. He was looking at ten
months of working in the Appalachians as a community
doctor. It was already April. He had a little over eight months
to go.
Jonathan said that if things went well for the first six
months, he might be able to persuade Harald to let him come
back to work as a full-time doctor somewhere else.
Mike slept fitfully that night and then got up again to
start the day. The skies were blue that morning, and birds
chirped outside his window. His house was modest and
offered a bedroom and living room and a bathroom. There
was a small kitchen area, but it was not something he enjoyed
being in. He loved to have good food, but his meals were
spare and tasteless. He had lost a few pounds, and it made his
clothes sag around his legs.
Mike would sit at night to watch the news and then fall
into a stupor from the exhaustion he felt almost every day. His
work was good, and he kept up with the medical news. His
patients were pitifully poor, and most of them were very
grateful for his help and ministering. Some of the women
found him very attractive and tried to win him over. But he
only had his thoughts for someone in Columbus. He dreamed
of the day when he would come back to her and hold her in
his arms.
That morning, his office had a very calamitous
breakdown of the heating system. Everyone was chilled to the
bone as they administered to the patients. His nurse and the
secretary were clad in winter coats, and yet they seemed not
to care. “Dr. Mike, we really appreciate how you have come to
help us with our work,” chimed the secretary, Mrs. Dilby.
They knew little of his past, and he didn’t mention his
problems to anybody.
“No problem, Mrs. Dilby. It seemed to make sense at
the time to help out.”
“Well, ain’t nobody been here for a while, and we’re
happy you came just in time.”
Amy Tobin, the nurse, overheard them talking and
smiled happily at him. “Dr. Mike, you have your next patient
waiting.”
“Thank you.”
The morning became less pleasant and the chill of the
office became unbearable. Mike decided that the heater
needed to be repaired as soon as possible. “Mrs. Dilby, when
did they say they would come and fix the heater?”
“Oh, sometime later today, I reckon.”
“OK. Why don’t we all take a long lunch hour starting
now and come back later at three?”
“Fine with me!” Mrs. Dilby said.
“What are we to tell the patients?” asked Amy.
“Just tell them they can come back either this afternoon
or tomorrow. Or better yet, if they need more care, they can
take priority later today. How’s that?”
“Fine with me!” Amy said with a grateful look.

The Loveable Resident - Chapter Twenty-Seven

All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright Mary Faderan and Colin Firth

The words of Jonathan Moore came to Lauren as she
looked out the window of the airplane she was in. “It will do
you good to have a vacation, Lauren. I’m ordering you to take
two weeks somewhere that is sunny and healthy for you. You
should do it tomorrow. I’ve got the tickets. You just have to
show up at the gate.”
“I don’t want to go.”
“You need this. It’s good for you. Don’t argue.”
“I’ve got piles of work to do.”
“I’ve asked Adam and that new attorney to help with
that.”
“OK, fine. I’ll go. I’m still feeling like something’s not
finished.”
Jonathan paused and his lips twitched. “I know.”
“OK, I’ll go and pack.”
“Good girl.”
She packed her bag, and now she tried to think toward
the time when she would be having a good vacation
somewhere where her father was sending her. She didn’t
realize it until she saw where she was boarding. It just didn’t
matter where her destination would be. But she was being
sent to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. Her first thought was
that this was not where her father would have sent his
daughter. He didn’t like North Carolina, and yet here was her
ticket, sending her there.
Lauren sighed and then sat back, finding herself falling
into a light sleep.
Myrtle Beach was a lovely town. There was the beach
itself, and at that time of year in April, she could still feel some
of the chill wind when she walked on the sand. Lauren made
it a habit to walk in the mornings and then have breakfast at
her hotel. There was hardly a crowd there that April—only
stragglers and die-hard tourists who came there every year
because they had fallen in love with the place. Lauren, not
having had a real vacation in years, enjoyed her walks. She
stayed away from people, and the others left her alone.
One of the kitchen staff observed her as she walked
toward the beach one morning and said to her friend and
coworker, “That girl—she is not happy.”
“Oh?” Her friend looked at Lauren’s retreating back.
“Why do you say that?”
“I can read people. She’s one of those—one of them
people.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Someone who’s lost somebody that they loved.”
“Oh, really!”
“Mark my words. She’s hurting for someone.”
Lauren decided to skip her plane trip and, instead,
hired a car to go back home at the end of her stay at Myrtle
Beach. It was more relaxing for her to drive than to do all that
had to be done to catch a flight and get all settled down and
then get up and find her luggage and head home. So with a
full tank of gas and her credit card ready, she drove a white
Renault on Highway 501 and kept her GPS to track her
journey.
She would be home in eleven hours.
The roads were mostly good, but once she headed
through toward West Virginia, she found the roads patchy
and rough at intervals. The weather was relatively good and
made her spirits feel uplifted. Her father called her on her cell
and expressed extreme displeasure at her having decided to
drive instead of taking the flight back.
“My god, Lauren, what the hell are you thinking?
Driving alone through the South?”
“Dad, I’m OK. This is not the first time I’ve driven
alone through parts of the US!”
“No, it isn’t, but I’m afraid this is causing me a
problem. I want you to take yourself to the nearest airport and
come home from there.”
“No, I won’t,” she smilingly said. “I love the weather,
and I am enjoying the drive. Let’s be calm about it. You can
ask Marsh to prepare me a great big meal when I get home.”
“And when will that be, pray tell?”
“Oh, sometime tomorrow after lunch!”
“Oh my god.”
She rang off and motored away into the wilds of
Appalachia.

The Loveable Resident - Chapter Twenty-Six

All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright Mary Faderan and Colin Firth

The first Monday of March was a mild day. The sun
was shining, and any residual snow had melted into puddles
on the streets of Hartford. There was a slight breeze, and
every one that walked outside commented on how lovely the
day was.
Jonathan Moore and Mike Oates stepped out into the
sunlight, followed by Olivia. Everyone looked happy. Olivia
was dabbing her eyes with tissue. But a smile wreathed her
face. They were joined by Inspector Ingraham, who looked
speculatively at Mike.
“Well, this is the day you have to head to West
Virginia, Mike,” Inspector Ingraham said.
“Already?” asked Olivia with wide eyes. “We wanted
to have a small celebration.”
“Sorry. It’s not something I can do anything about.
Mike is remanded to serve out his sentence as a doctor in the
wilds of the Blue Ridge Mountains.”
Mike smiled at his mother. “I’ll keep in touch, Mother.
You need to understand it’s something we agreed to. I have
my freedom, at least, to be out of a prison cell.”
Jonathan, who had not spoken much, spoke now.
“Mike, you will be fine. I’ll check in with you as your lawyer,
and you and I will have a call every week, just so we keep to
the agreement.”
“That’s fine.”
“What about me? Can I visit Mike?” Olivia inquired.
“Yes, of course. But he is going to be living in a very
cramped space.”
“Well, I don’t care. I’ll demand to see my son.”
“OK, Mike,” Ingraham said with some asperity. “I’ll
take you with me now. Goodbye to you both.”
Olivia watched as Mike and Ingraham went down the
street and out of view. “Have you told Lauren anything?”
“She knows.”
“Will she—?”
“Not sure, Olivia, my love. I just don’t know.”

The Loveable Resident - Chapter Twenty-Five

All rights reserved.
(c)  Copyright Mary Faderan and Colin Firth


Olivia found her son staring out the window on the
morning of the meeting of Judge Harald and his guests. She
looked at Mike with pity but put on her best smile when she
knew he would turn to see her. “Good morning, dear!”
“Hello, Mom.”
“Did you sleep at all last night?”
“No. Not a damn minute.”
“Oh well. Maybe you could take a nap later. We have
very little planned to do today.”
“I’m sure I’ll catch a few minutes of sleep sometime
later.”
“Have you had breakfast?”
“No.” Mike walked to her and took her in his arms.
“Mom, I am so very, very sorry.”
She hugged him back and tried not to let her emotions
cloud her face. “No, it’s OK, my dear. Not to worry.
Jonathan’s doing his best, and we will be happy again.”
“I sure hope so.”
“And for breakfast, what about some scrambled eggs
and maybe bacon and coffee? Some muffins maybe?”
“No, I can’t eat.”
“You must eat. I am not about to watch you pine
yourself into a depression.”
“I want to see Lauren. Nobody wants me to see her.
Have you talked to her?”
Olivia shook her head. “No. She’s been
incommunicado, I’m thinking. Jonathan is very protective of
Lauren. You know that.”
“I hope he gave her my letter.”
“I’m sure he did. I trust Jonathan.”
Mike smiled sourly. “Well, I don’t know if he trusts me
with his daughter now.”
“Mike Oates, what you did was a big mistake, and
Levy was not anyone you loved. You would never do
something like that to anybody and not even think of doing
this to someone you truly, truly loved. That is my belief, and I
believe in you, my dear son.”
He hugged her again. “Oh, Mom, you do say the best
things. I wish I could bottle you up and have a sip of it every
time I get bogged down.”
“I’m sure they’ll come up with something similar.” She
laughed and then walked to the kitchen. “I’m going to cook us
breakfast, and then we will just relax. I think that Jonathan is
calling us sometime later today.”
“OK, fine. I’ll go for a walk after breakfast. I need some
fresh air.”
“I know. Getting cooped up with that awful Henderson
and then at the police station!” She shook her fair head. “I’m
feeling such a great deal of heartache, thinking of how they
treated you.”
“I wish you wouldn’t hang on to that ache, Mom. It’s
not a good thing for you to feel that way. I’m going to be OK.
Jonathan’s a good lawyer.”
“I’ll do my best. I think I’ll rest a little too after we have
our meal. The time it takes to get here from Columbus—it’s
too draining.”
Mike looked at his mother with appreciation. “Thanks
for being here, Mom. I am grateful beyond words.”
There was another snowstorm in Columbus that
Friday. All the roads were slick, and there was an order that
only those who had to be at work should travel. It was not
something that people ignored, and most of the citizenry
complied. Except for Lauren and Adam.
Lauren was in her casual jeans, working in her office
with a peaceful and undisturbed solitude when Adam walked
in. She looked up in surprise. “Adam! What makes you come
to work?”
“I had to do some work for Monday’s hearing. I walked
to work.”
“I see. I didn’t know you lived close by.”
“No, you don’t know me at all,” he said coldly.
“If you are asking to have a scene, I am not available,”
she said, matching his tone.
“Hell, I am sorry!” He sat down with a sigh. “Lauren,
you still aren’t in love with that Mike Oates, are you?”
“I prefer not to discuss him with you.”
“OK, OK.” He held up his hands. “I still think this
affair of yours needs to end.”
“Adam, I want you to shut up and leave.”
“Fine!” He stood up and then stared at her, clenching
and unclenching his jaw. “I think that your father is doing
way too much for Mike. That guy is a loser. He is not good! I
want this case dropped. Otherwise, I will have to quit the
firm.”
She looked at him wearily. “Adam, I think that would
be fine with me. You and I . . . you can’t fall in love with
people you work with. It’s not a good idea.”
“You are too innocent. It happens all the time.”
“And that is why people are sad and have to quit.
That’s a difficult thing, I know, but maybe you need to find
outside interests and not put too much of your life in your
job.”
Adam looked at her as if she spoke something he had
not considered before. “I think you might have something
there.” He walked around the office and lingered over a small
figurine. “Look, I’m sorry. I just know you are so very much
someone I would want to marry, and I don’t think I’ll ever
find anyone like you again. That’s all. I really don’t mean to be
a pest. But I hope that, for your sake, you’ll find some closure
about Mike.”
Lauren sat back and looked at him sadly.
He saw her look and then straightened up. “Hey, I am
sorry. I better get back to my desk. I’ll be around for a few
hours. If you need anything at all, I’m your man.”
“Thanks, Adam. I hope you know that we value you. I
don’t wish you to leave us.”
“Well, I’ll think about it.” With that, he left her.

The Loveable Resident - Chapter Twenty-Four

All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright Mary Faderan and Colin Firth 2017


Ten o’clock the next day found Mike Oates with
Jonathan Moore. They sat in the interview room at the police
department. Mike looked as though he had not slept well and
had a stubble of a beard on his jaw. His hair was tousled, and
his face was grim. “I want to see Lauren, please. May I see
Lauren?”
“No, not yet, Mike. This case isn’t hers now. I am
happy to say she is well, and nothing about last night’s fracas
with Missy Wright has injured her peace of mind. She is glad
you are safe, however—that, I can tell you.”
“I suppose she’s not here any longer? Is she back in
Columbus?”
“She is on her way there, yes.” Moore’s face was
nonchalant.
“Fine. Tell her that I still love her and want to be with
her when all this is said and done.” He pulled out a folded
piece of paper and set it on the table. “I’d like to have this
given to her if you would.”
“Mike, we have more important things to discuss.”
“Please, Jonathan.”
“Fine.” But Jonathan made no attempt to take the
paper.
Mike looked angry and sat back with his arms crossed.
“OK, what’s next, Jonathan? I’m going to jail. I will cooperate.
I’ve already talked to the detectives. They understand how it
all went down. When do I see the judge? I want this over and
done with.”
“Not so fast.”
“What does that mean?”
Moore sighed. “I’ve got to tell you something about
your parents and I.”
“Well, go on.”
“I’ve always had the highest regard for you mother,
Olivia. She and I spoke earlier, and she’s very, very concerned
about your well-being. When we were much younger, your
mother and I were about to marry, and then she decided on
marrying your father instead.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes. I’ve sworn to help Olivia through all the ups and
downs of marrying George Oates.”
“That is pretty noble of you, Jonathan.” Mike’s eyes
were soft. “I’m sorry that she chose my father.”
“Well, he was more of a swashbuckler than I ever will
be.”
“Damn. So now you have me to deal with—a chip off
the old block.”
“I am very fond of your mom. I still hope she will be
well after this whole affair has been put to bed.”
“What else is there to do, Jonathan? I’m set for jail.
How long a term do I face?”
“I’ve got to talk to a few people. I’m thinking that jail
may not be required in this case.”
Mike’s face looked guarded. “Oh?”
“OK, look. I have yet to do my job, and that is to get
you as light a prison term or no prison term at all. We have a
few thoughts about that at my office. I’ll say this, though.
Don’t feel bad now. The worst may be over. You will need to
rest, and after bail has been set, you can go back to your place
and get cleaned up. Your mother is on her way here, and she
will be with you for the hearing.”
“When will that be?”
“We have a few days. I’ll let you know.”
“Great.” Mike paused. “I’m not looking forward to
seeing Mom.”
“She loves you and knows that you need her.”
Mike stared at him. “Will you give this letter to Lauren
for me or not?”
Jonathan returned his stare and then relented. He took
the letter and put it in his pocket. “Let’s say we meet
sometime before the end of this week, then.” He stood up and
waited until the guard escorted Mike away from the interview
room.



The offices of Justice Eamus Harald were in the nearby
city of Hartford, where Mike Oates would have been tried. On
the Friday after Mike’s arrest, at just after 10:30 a.m., a black
Mercedes SUV swung into view and slid to a stop at the front
of the building where Justice Harald held his court. The driver
got out and quickly opened the back- and front-passenger
doors. The first to alight was Jonathan Moore, clad in his
camel-hair coat, his well-kept demeanor as collected as ever.
The second to get down from the SUV was Inspector
Ingraham, looking beleaguered but determined. The third to
finally leave the vehicle was Dr. Leo Bartholomew. His
manner was grim and also determined, and it was also greatly
apparent that he was suffering from emotional distress.
“You OK, Leo?” Ingraham asked as they filed into the
building.
“No, not at all. My daughter’s decided to elope.”
“Oh my. Sorry to hear that.”
“It’s OK. My wife is adamant there will be a church
wedding.” Leo quickly moved away as if to forget the
recollection of his wife’s face when she told him.
The judge in the case of Mike Oates was expecting
them all. He was a well-dressed man, in his fifties, with silver
hair cut very short. He had a fairly athletic physique but
tended to have a middle that expanded when he sat down. He
glanced down at his attire as if to check that nothing was out
of order. He sat down at his desk and expectantly watched the
door.
His secretary opened the door and smiled tentatively at
him. “Judge Harald, I present Inspector Matthew Ingraham,
Dr. Leo Bartholomew, and Mr. Jonathan Moore.” The men
came in and the judge rose to greet them individually. Once
the introductions were made, Judge Harald’s secretary
disappeared out of the room.
“Have a seat, please, gentlemen,” Harald said with a
formal tone. “I’m sure you had a good trip?”
“Very nice, sir,” Inspector Ingraham said. “Thank you
for taking time out of your day to see us at such short notice.”
“Not at all. I’ve had a few chats on the phone with one
of you,” Harald said, ignoring Jonathan Moore.
“Oh, really?”
“Well, I’ve been apprised of this case. The case of
Michael Oates, MD? Who will be his representative? Is that
you, Mr. Moore?”
“Yes, Judge,” Jonathan said respectfully. “He’s my
client. And we wish to request that his prison sentence be
commuted.”
“On what grounds?” spat Harald. His stare was
frightening.
Jonathan kept his demeanor as calmly as possible when
he said in reply, “Mike Oates fully admits to having stabbed
Dr. James Levy. He said he was caught in a terrible train of
thought. He was full of ambition, and he had no idea that Dr.
Levy was still alive when he left the scene of the crime.”
“Go on.”
“The man who discovered Levy’s body was actually
the murderer of Levy. He knew that Levy was still alive, and
he stabbed him in the heart and watched him die. That man
was ordered by Ross Henderson as a hit man to murder
Levy.”
Harald sat back and frowned. “I’ve read the report,
Moore. Why do you want this man’s prison time commuted?”
“If I may, Judge, it is because we here together have
come to request and plead the court that Oates be given a
different kind of sentence. He is a brilliant surgeon. He is
otherwise a good man, and he is truly remorseful. He wants to
serve his time doing good as a doctor. Perhaps Dr.
Bartholomew might expand on this?” Jonathan looked at Leo.
“Yes, well,” Bartholomew started, “I’ve known Oates
for about two or three years, and I’ve always found his work
impeccable. He has a talent—a gift—as a surgeon. While he
may not wish to be a surgeon for the rest of his life, he does
wish to be a doctor in a capacity that will be best for his
personality.”
“What personality is that?” Harald asked.
“He is someone who has a kind heart, and his patients
all love him. But he is easily tempted by the victories of
surgery, and that is where his flaw lies. He wants to be a
doctor somewhere where he can be of help. Something like
that organization that serves the underprivileged in
Appalachia.”
“Oh,” Harald said with some interest, “I see.
Something that will work to serve his time whatever it is and
that will also help others with his profession?”
“That is so.”
“What about the fact that his license might actually be
in peril? Will anyone of you address this?”
Ingraham coughed before speaking. “I’m sure that we
at the police department can find something to . . . uh . . . work
on that.”
“That so?” Harald asked speculatively.
“He does appear to be most remorseful. He told me
that he didn’t realize what he had done until he did it. I think
he’s worth a second chance.”
Leo glanced at the others with him. “I’d like to add that
if Mike were ever wanting to return to surgery, he would be
welcome to.”
There was a profound silence in the room. Jonathan
Moore’s eyes never left Harald’s. The judge stood up and
paced the room. “I think that you present a convincing case,
gentlemen,” the judge said coolly. “I’d like to think about it
for a few days. Over the weekend, at least.”
The others sat unblinkingly and then realized that they
were being dismissed. Jonathan got up first, and then the rest
followed. “Thank you, Judge Harald,” Jonathan said with a
smile.

The Loveable Resident - Chapter Twenty-Three

All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright Mary Faderan and Colin Firth 2017


The Bartholomew household was quiet the night that
Mike Oates came back from Branford, where Henderson’s
mansion was. No one there had an inkling what Oates went
through.
“Rebecca?” Sophia Bartholomew called out when she
saw her daughter pass their bedroom door, carrying a
suitcase.
“Mum?” Rebecca said without stopping. “I’m in a
hurry.”
“Where are you off to?” Sophia stepped out onto the
hallway. “I’m seeing a suitcase. Going on a trip?”
Rebecca stood stiffly and sighed. “Mum, I’m old
enough. I really must go.”
“Yes, you are old enough, but it would have been good
manners to tell me at least that you were going away for a . . .
trip? Short vacation? This is sudden, after all.”
Rebecca nodded. “OK, yes. Cor and I are going away to
see his parents in California. We . . . he proposed to me last
night.”
“Really?” Sophia leaned back against the wall, her chest
heaving. “Oh, Rebecca!”
“Mum, I’m in love with Cor. He loves me. We want to
be together forever.”
“Ok fine. I . . . I am only thinking selfishly. I have to tell
your father.” Sophia looked as though she was going to cry.
“I left a note on Dad’s desk. He’s left for a meeting.”
“You left a note.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Neither one of us is strong enough to tell your father,
it seems,” Sophia said ruefully.
“I must go. You can understand. I really need to make
this flight.”
“OK, go.” Sophia went to her daughter and hugged her
quickly. “I’ll let your father know.”
“We will be happy, Mummy. I promise,” Rebecca said
with a bright smile.
“Yes, I hope so. I want to help with the wedding plans,
if you’d let me.”
Rebecca looked troubled. “We were going to Vegas.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, well, I must go.”
Sophia straightened up. “Rebecca Bartholomew, I want
this wedding, and I want to help plan it. I do not like running
away to Vegas.”
“OK, OK!” Rebecca said in a rush. “Let me just get to
the airport. I really, really have to leave now!”
“Good. We’re planning a nice wedding, somewhere
where there’s a real church and a real minister, and your dad
is going to take you down the aisle. Understood?”
“OK!” Rebecca went running down the stairs and
disappeared out of the house.
Sophia fell back against the wall and groaned.
“I don’t understand, Marcus,” Leo Bartholomew said
wearily as he sat in a conference room at the hospital that
night. “I have no idea where to find Mike Oates. I’ve agreed
that he can resign. But now that Ralph Corcoran has resigned
too, there doesn’t seem to be anyone good enough to fill the
chief resident spot.”
The man with him was much older and more grim
looking. “So we can’t have the best. What of it? Let’s just make
do, and then we’ll get somebody to do the chief spot.” Marcus
Simonson gave him a quick look sideways.
“I’m sorry. I must have a damn good surgeon at the
helm. It’s stupid to think that we ought to do with what and
who we have. It’s going on to March, and this whole interview
process to find somebody will take as much time and we may
not have anybody at all by July.”
“We still have Cody Tripp until then. Don’t be that
upset.”
“No? I’m damned upset. I need this all ironed out and
the schedule and the whole thing figured out.”
“Well, we don’t have it all figured out. I’ll take
responsibility for it, Leo. Being the hospital CEO, I will help
you. Just know that there will be somebody by July.”
Leo sighed and pushed himself away from the table. “I
need to go home. I have an urgent message from my wife.”
“How is Sophia these days?”
“Oh, well, she’s fine. No real news. Getting all dreamy
about my retiring.”
Marcus’s eyebrows lifted. “Surely, you’re not thinking
about retiring? I can’t handle that!”
“No, no.” Leo smiled without mirth. “I think she
merely has this idea that life with me would be better if I had
less time spent here. That’s about the dream of every
surgeon’s wife.”
“Well, why don’t you try to make her a concession—
get home at the right hour and give her your full attention
there? A lot of wives of doctors complain to me that their
husbands just don’t have time for them any longer.”
Leo nodded thoughtfully. “Yes.” His eyes looked at
Marcus with what seemed like an idea. “Funny how that
brings me to Oates’s resignation.”
“Oh? Why?”
“He said that surgery wasn’t appealing to him any
longer.” Leo got up and walked toward the door. “I’m
thinking he’s become aware that there are more pressing
things than a big and juicy job.”
“Big and juicy—that’s surgery.” Marcus laughed.
“It is not juicy,” Leo said, frowning.
“It depends on how you look at it. Look, Leo, I’ll back
you on this chief resident thing, and then we’ll sleep on it
tonight and things could be better soon. At least by July. See
you tomorrow?”
“Yes, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The Loveable Resident - Chapter Twenty-Two

All rights reserved.
(c)  Copyright Mary Faderan and Colin Firth 2017



The police department that night was full of people,
most of them unrelated in their cases to Mike Oates. The two
detectives were reviewing their notes as they drank coffee,
talking in desultory tones. Neither one was in a selfcongratulatory
mood. Something in the atmosphere had a
dampening effect on the fact that they finally got Mike Oates,
that he was sitting in a cell, that Missy Wright was also in
custody for attempted murder, and that the case of Levy was
about to get closed.
Tom Ripley looked up with a squint at his supervisor.
“I’m still not sure we have all the facts.”
“Neither am I.”
“Good, then I have my hunch right.”
Gaddis got up and stretched, glanced at his watch, and
groaned, “I can’t do these late nights anymore, Tom. I don’t
have the energy.”
“Gotta keep working out, Bill.”
“Ok, what do we have here?”
Ripley flipped back through his notes. “We have . . .
OK, here’s what I have. Mike Oates was kidnapped by this
mob guy, Ross Henderson. Oates was pressured to sell his
bank’s shares to Henderson in exchange for Henderson
keeping quiet about Oates’s killing of Levy.”
“Well, not really killing Levy, did he? He said . . . well,
his lawyer, Jonathan Moore, said . . . that Oates didn’t fatally
stab the guy. That Henderson confessed to having a hit man
do it.”
“That is what he said once Missy Wright admitted to
asking Henderson to kill Levy for butchering her mother’s
surgery.”
“So Henderson, then,” Ripley said, raising a hand
holding a pen, “did this to Levy but made Oates think he
killed Levy so Oates would give him the shares to Oates’s
father’s bank!”
“Right.”
“And Missy Wright was to be the prize in the bargain.
She was Oates’s ex-lover, and she was to become Oates’s
fiancée.”
“And she was so damned jealous of Oates and Lauren
Moore getting involved in a hot affair that she came to
Moore’s hotel with a gun.”
“Which we know was flubbed because Moore
defended herself by tackling Missy Wright, and Missy
suffered a bad head injury.”
“Well, she bled a bit, not a lot to get her into the
hospital,” Gaddis interposed.
“OK, OK. So that is where we are, correct?”
“Henderson is in lockup too, right?”
“He’s been apprehended, and he confessed at his home
before they brought him in.”
“OK, fine.” Gaddis walked to the coffee machine and
poured himself another cup. “I’m hoping Ingraham will sign
off on this.”
“What’s the next thing for Oates?”
“Not sure, Tom. I’m guessing he’s going to have to
serve some kind of time.”
“Damn.”
“You don’t like it, eh?” Gaddis smirked.
“Well, he looks pretty damn pitiful. I feel for the guy.
He just had way too much ambition, too much of a career
mind, and went for the wrong girl.”
“Lauren Moore’s not a wrong girl.”
“No.” Ripley smiled. “She’s pretty cute, don’t you
think?”
“Let’s not wax poetic about the woman, shall we?”
“Come on, Bill! She’s a very good-looking woman!” he
expostulated.
“And she’s what could have been the prize, but Oates
went for the other chick.”
“He said he was doing it to protect Lauren. He didn’t
know what they would do to her if he turned Henderson
down.”
Gaddis’s face sobered at the thought. “OK, yeah.
Damn. I’m real sorry this was how it’s turned out for Oates.”
At this, the door to Ingraham’s office opened. Both men
looked up in surprise. “Inspector, we didn’t know you were
still here,” said Gaddis.
Ingraham’s face was solemn. “I’ve been in a phone
discussion. Need to meet with you both later . . . maybe
tomorrow. We have to get the Oates/Levy case in some order.”
“Oh, we’re on it, sir!” Ripley said with a smile.
“Let’s not be presumptuous. There’s a problem I am
needing to address.”
“What’s that, sir?” Gaddis asked, his eyes watchful.
“I can’t discuss it yet.”
“OK.”
Ingraham shrugged his coat on and walked toward the
door. “I’m going out for a few minutes. Maybe an hour. Don’t
wait for me. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Good job, by the way.”
The two detectives watched him leave in silence. Then
Ripley looked at Gaddis with a sly face. “Ingraham’s trying
something, isn’t he?”
Gaddis pursed his mouth. “I’d leave it, Tom. Let’s
finish up here and go home. I need my bed.”

The Loveable Resident - Chapter Twenty-One

All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright Mary Faderan and Colin Firth 2017


The clock ticked interminably next to Lauren’s bed as
she lay with her eyes closed. She was not sleeping as
evidenced by her constant stirring, turning, and sighing. She
stifled several sobs, and then she got up and flung the pillow
away from her.
Her face was streaked with tears, and her hair fell over
her eyes. She was still clad in the dress that she would have
worn to lunch with Mike the day before. Where is he? her mind
asked over and over. Her cell was plugged into the wall with
its charger. She had the cell close to her since she missed
seeing Mike yesterday. She didn’t like that she called home
and Marsh didn’t tell her father until this morning.
Finally, she looked at the clock and decided to get
herself ready for dinner. She would be meeting Adam tonight.
His phone call was surprising, but he said it would be good to
have him as a backup while Mike was still in New Haven.
With a slow step, she walked to the bathroom and got herself
to a presentable state.
The knock on the door made her start. “Who is it?”
“Adam.”
“OK, hello.” She pulled the door open and let him in.
He stood uncertainly in the middle of the room. “Make
yourself comfortable, Adam. What can I get you? I think that I
have some soda and maybe a wine bottle somewhere in the
fridge here.”
“No, I’m fine.”
“OK.” She stood before him expectantly.
“Look here, Lauren.” Adam spread his hands. “I didn’t
come here with Jonathan’s permission.”
“Oh?”
“I’m here because I want you to leave this Mike Oates
to the law. I don’t think he’s a good person for you. You are
too good for him. You must see that.”
Lauren stared at him. Then she said, “You are wrong.
Adam, I think you should leave.”
“No, I must speak my mind first.”
She sighed. “Go ahead. Let me hear it. But you must go
after you speak it.”
“OK. Fine.” He paced the floor before her. “I’m one of
your colleagues at work, OK? So I see you almost every day.
Lauren, I really want to tell you that I am in love with you.
I’ve always loved you. Mike Oates, this guy—he’s nobody. He
can be rich and smart, but he’s not for you. You’re too good
for him. Why do you want to waste your time with some guy
that is weaseling out of being taken in to jail? He is one inch
away from this prison cell, and you insist on keeping him with
you.”
“Stop. Stop there.” She held out her hand. “Adam, I am
glad that you got that out. I had an idea you might be against
Mike. I should have made sure you were on his side before
you got this far. I don’t agree with you. I think Mike is a good
man and he was made to like the wrong things. I’ve grown up
enough around him. I know his family, and I know his mom is
very good and loving. I don’t think Mike could be a total loser,
and I know that he needs me.”
“So if he did need you, that still shouldn’t make you
stick by him. You are losing your impartiality in this case!” he
insisted.
“Adam, I admit that I love Mike Oates. I am not his
lawyer now. Dad is his lawyer. I don’t think you need to go
any further. Please leave me now. I think you wasted your
time. Don’t bother coming back.”
He looked at her with pity. “Lauren, you are too
innocent. Too good.”
“Please leave, Adam.”
He hung his head and then turned and left her.
Lauren sat down and started to feel an upheaval of
emotions. But she decided it wasn’t going to help her to cry. If
Mike came in that moment, he would not want to see her
crying at all. Thinking of Mike made her heart lift, and then
she stood up and got herself ready for the evening. Surely
Mike was going to come that evening, she thought.
As if on cue, there was a knock on the door.
“Who’s that?” Lauren called out. “Adam, is that you
again?”
No one answered. Lauren hesitated, and then she
opened the door to reveal Missy Wright. “Oh! Hello, are you
looking for someone else? I don’t think I know you.”
Lauren beheld a tall and curvaceous woman at the
door. She looked vaguely familiar. The woman said nothing.
In fact, she had a hateful look on her face that deformed her
attractiveness. “You must be Lauren Moore,” she said with a
hiss.
“Well, yes.” Lauren tried to block her from entering,
but Missy was too strong.
“I’m sure you and Mike are great in bed together.”
“What do you mean? I want you to leave.”
“No way. You are going to be my only block to getting
Mike back.”
Lauren realized this woman was the girl that Mike
referred to back in New York City. “OK, so you’re Mike’s exgirlfriend.”
“No. He’s still my boyfriend. In fact, he’s going to
marry me. Marry me!” She came close to Lauren’s face with a
sneering smile.
“OK, fine. I’ll send you both a present. I want you to
leave.”
“Not quite yet.” Missy put a hand out and pushed
Lauren rudely.
“No, you do not push me!” Lauren said with a gasp.
“Oh, you are too prissy for me. Lord, have mercy!”
Missy laughed. “Here, what do you think about this?” She
took her hand out of her coat pocket and displayed a gun.
Lauren stared at the gun and couldn’t speak. It was a
grim thought that crossed her mind. Where was Mike? She
tried to remain calm.
“You need to put the gun away. You really need to
leave. Let’s just forget about me and Mike. I’m sure that you
and he will have a very happy life.”
“No. You need to die, Lauren Moore. I hate you, and I
hate you for taking Mike away from me. I wish you would
die!” She took aim and pulled the trigger.
“No!” Lauren suddenly ducked and then lunged for
Missy’s legs. Missy toppled over, and her head hit the edge of
the chair beside her. The gun exploded, and the bullet lodged
in the wall behind Lauren. Missy tried to kick Lauren, but
Lauren sat down on her legs and then put her hands on
Missy’s throat. Whatever made Lauren do this was a surprise
to Lauren herself, but it was fortunate that the gun was no
longer a threat.
The door flew open, and a man in a fedora hat came in.
“Damn, what happened?”
“Who are you?” Lauren demanded.
“I’m a friend. Your dad asked me to help keep you
safe.”
“Well, do your job!” Lauren said with a flash of anger.
“I hate this now! Take her away!”
Missy was bleeding from the cut to her head. Another
slam of the door revealed Gaddis and Ripley crashing through
Lauren took a look at them. “What is this?”
“Police, Ms. Moore. We have your boyfriend in
custody.”
“Oh my god!”
They helped Lauren get up and took Missy out of the
room. The man in the fedora hat stayed behind and gave
Lauren something to drink. She said nothing until the call
came from her father.
“Lauren, my dear, are you all right?”
“Yes. I need to see Mike.”
“Not tonight.”
“When then?”
“Let’s talk about it later. I have to meet a few people,
and then tomorrow, we can start our way home.”
“What about seeing Mike?” she insisted.
“Just calm down. I’ll see what I can do.”
She hung up and stared up at the man beside her. “I’m
OK,” she told him. “I just have to wait for the time to get to
see Mike.”

The Loveable Resident - Chapter Twenty

All rights reserved
(c) Copyright Mary Faderan and Colin Firth



Mike Oates loosened his tie as he sat next to Sal in the
same black SUV that he was transported in the day before. He
had his cell phone back, but it had long run out of juice. He
hated that and worried about Lauren. It made the trip
unbearably long, and he tried to close his eyes to shut out the
long road ahead of them, filled with cars and prone to being in
gridlock. Sal took the long drive back, and Mike hated that
too. If he could, he would have made the move to hit Sal on
the nose and crack it open, make him die, and take over the
wheel.
But Henderson still had his hold over him. Everyone
Mike held dear in his life was in Henderson’s thrall. It made
Mike die all over again. His hell was almost unbearable in its
exquisite balance. Mike had to go on with the lie that he
would marry Missy. He had to agree to keep Lauren from
getting killed, for she would have been killed and may be
already dead by now. That possibility was what ground his
insides to a pulp. It made him die all over again. What a mess.
What a mess of my life. He dared not pray. It was not that he
would not pray, but that God would not answer. It made him
so totally sad and filled with despair.
He wanted to talk to his mom, the woman who taught
him how to pray, how to be a good child, and how to do all
the right things. He wished he had his mom all the time, not
his father, George. It made him mad that his dad conned him
into wanting the things that he thought would get him far and
in the best places—to the heaven that his dad said existed.
Well, his type of heaven was bad. George got into bed with
Henderson without anyone knowing it. For years. For
decades. It was enough to make Mike hate his father all over
again. He could not and would not attend the funeral but for
his mother’s sake.
Mike felt this trip back to New Haven was somehow a
way to get to a place where he thought he would never be in;
there was hell waiting for him and hell with him now. Why he
had to kill or stab Levy made him desperate in his remorse. It
was totally, totally out of his control. What made him do this
thing? To kill someone—it was so very different from how he
wanted to love someone, someone like Lauren. The woman
who was in and out of his life for years. She was the prize.
Now she was going to be replaced by Missy. That woman,
Missy, would have been someone that his father would have
approved of. “God, I hate my dad,” Mike groaned, and it
made Sal glance at him.
“Hey, you OK there, Oates?” Sal leered at him.
“Shut up.”
“I will. I got my money. No sweat driving you back.
You lucky you ain’t been worked over. You a good guy, Mike
Oates.”
Mike heard this, and it made him feel worse. He was no
good guy. No. He was not a good guy at all. He wanted to get
to Lauren soon. “Can’t we go any faster?”
“No.”
They drove for what seemed like a few moments, and
then suddenly, there was a siren that erupted behind them.
“Jesus Christ!” Sal exclaimed.
“What . . . are we getting pulled over?” Mike felt a
wash of relief and suspense at the same time.
“I was not even doing sixty!” Sal uttered an expletive
and pulled the car to the side of the road. “I’m not going to tell
my boss this. No way. No way.”
They waited in silence while the police car came behind
them and then parked. An interminable amount of time
seemed to pass for Mike as the police officer came out and
went to talk to Sal. “May I have your driver’s license and
registration, please, sir?”
“Sure.” Sal took out his license and dug into the
dashboard for the registration. He handed them over.
The police officer took note of both Sal and Mike.
“What’s the reason for your trip, uh, Mr. Trivero?”
“We’re just going to work. I’m the chauffeur.”
“Oh. What about you, sir? Do you have an
identification card I can look at?”
Mike handed his driver’s license to him.
“Thank you.”
The police officer went back to his patrol car and stayed
there.
Mike looked helplessly at the skies. If this was the
worst thing that could happen to him, it couldn’t have
happened at the worst time.
The police officer had taken a little time, and then he
came back. “I’m sorry, I need to take you both back to New
Haven Police Department.”
“What the hell?” Sal exclaimed, his voice suddenly
afraid.
“Yes. Both of you.”
The police officer herded them both to his patrol car
and then closed the back door on them both.
Mike tried not to lose his composure. “Listen, Officer, I
really need to get to my girlfriend right after the police station.
I don’t want her to worry about me.”
“What’s her name?”
“Lauren Moore. She’s also my lawyer.”
“OK. Well, I don’t have any control over what happens
to you, Dr. Oates. I just know you have an APB out on you,
and this guy with you is our mystery man.”
APB! Mike closed his eyes and groaned. I’m sunk, he
thought.

The Loveable Resident - Chapter Nineteen

All rights reserved
(c) Copyright Mary Faderan and Colin Firth



While Leo and Matthew were having a call to meet for
coffee, Jonathan Moore was on his way to New Haven in a
hired limousine. He shivered in the back of the car despite the
thick camel-hair coat he wore. He tried to warm his hands and
rapped at the window to talk to the chauffeur.
“Yes, Mr. Moore?” The chauffeur inclined his head.
“Is there anything to drink in this car? I need
something to warm me up.”
“The bar is just under the back of the front seat.”
“Good.”
“Table service as well.”
“Excellent.”
Jonathan opened the bar area and saw a small bottle of
brandy. He poured himself a glass and immediately felt better
as the brandy coursed down his throat. He felt a boost of
confidence and leaned back.
The cell in his pocket buzzed, and he took it out.
“Hello? Oh yes. What have you found out? Really? And what
about Lauren? Is she OK? Good. So that other thing you
mentioned. Do you know where they took him? OK. I figured
that. Damn it. Why don’t you . . . are you there? OK, great job.
You keep me posted.” He was about to hang up, but then the
other party said something else. “Did you? OK, so you don’t
think . . . OK, fine. Well, I’ll have to tell you this. Make damn
sure Lauren is safe. Is she? Did you . . . ? OK, good.” Jonathan
hung up, pocketed his cell, and then let the brandy’s effects
lull him to sleep.

The Loveable Resident - Chapter Eighteen

All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright Mary Faderan and Colin Firth 2017


Bill Gaddis stretched his stocky body over his armchair
and reached for a folder on the desk behind his. “Tom, is this
the Levy folder?”
Tom Ripley looked up from his position by the file
cabinet. “Yes, that is it. What do you need?”
“I’m looking for that interview we were supposed to
have with Dr. Oates. Did that ever happen? I must have
sleepwalked and never filed it.”
“No, it never happened. He would have been the last
one to have gotten a call from you.”
“Damn. I hate that. What happened to me?”
“You had a date with you wife that night. The rest is
conjuncture.” Ripley’s lips curled in a mocking smile.
Gaddis looked foggily at him, and then he reddened.
“Damn.”
“Well, it happens. I could have gone for you, you
know.”
“Well . . .” Gaddis sat back straight in his chair and
picked up the phone. “Hell, I hope he’s at home. Did you get
his cell-phone number?”
“It’s all in there.”
“Nobody’s home. I’ll try his cell.”
There was a pause. Gaddis shrugged and left a
message. “He’s not in close proximity to his telephone nor cell
phone.”
“Try his workplace?”
“Good idea!” Gaddis dialed the hospital and finally
reached the unit where Mike used to work. “Hello, I’m
Detective Gaddis from the NHPD. I’m trying to locate a Dr.
Mike Oates. Happen he’s there?”
There was a pause. Then he said, “OK, thanks.” He
hung up and looked up at Ripley. “Damn.”
“Ok, what?”
“He’s quit!”
“He’s quit?”
“That’s what I said. Yes, the woman said Mike signed
his resignation over to the big honcho there, and now he’s a
free unemployed surgeon.”
Ripley walked to the desk and sat on its edge. A
thoughtful look came over his face. “I’m thinking the same
thing as you, Bill?”
“Depends.” Gaddis slanted a look at his subordinate.
“Well, it’s a bit of a coincidence that Dr. Mike Oates
would resign.”
“It’s not uncommon, is it? Maybe he got tired of the rat
race. Lots of residents burn out.”
“No, this guy, Oates—he’s not a quitter.”
“Says you?”
“I’m not real sure, but I’ve spoken to some of the staff. I
hear some scuttlebutt about the residents, like that other guy
Corcoran. He’s got some Anglo parents in the West Coast.
Lots of money, but he’s always broke.”
“Oh, for crying out loud, Ripley!” Gaddis groaned.
“Well, we need to tie up loose ends. I need to find this Oates
guy.”
“Oh, and he’s also been seeing this nurse there—Missy
Wright.”
“You get around, don’t you?” Gaddis laughed.
“She happens to be somebody that had ties to Levy.”
“It’s not in your report, Mr. Ripley. What gives?”
Ripley shrugged. “It’s late. I don’t get home till ten
p.m., and I have to have some time to relax.”
“If Ingraham ever found out that you’re not up to
date—”
“OK, OK, I’ll fill you in. Meantime, where can we find
this Oates now?”
“You tell me, Detective Sherlock.”
There was a silence. “I can’t think,” Ripley said finally.
“OK, let’s put out an APB on Oates. We want him for
questioning mainly because he seems to have two ties to this
murder.”
“Two?”
“Yes,” said Gaddis patiently. “Missy Wright and that
sudden resignation. It stinks that he did this soon after Levy
got murdered.”
Ingraham stood at the door of his office. He coughed
and then said, “I couldn’t help but overhear. This is news. I’m
thinking you two are either on some kind of dope or you are
some kind of psychic.”
The two men he commanded stared at him. “Sir,” said
Gaddis. “Don’t you think this quitting is clearly something to
do with the murder?”
“It’s a long shot, Gaddis,” Ingraham said coldly. “Now,
why don’t you boys find Oates and tell him nicely that we just
want to tie up loose ends?”
He watched the two detectives leave and then went
into his office, closing the door. He sat down behind his desk
and pulled out his cell phone. Ingraham had a small frown as
he dialed a number. “Hello?”
“Hello, Leo, what’s new with you these days?”
Ingraham asked.
“Well, hey, Inspector Ingraham. Haven’t heard from
you since you left my hospital. How’s the old ticker going?”
“Fine, fine. I’m doing fine,” Ingraham said curtly.
“Hey, I’d like to meet for coffee. Are you free by chance later
today?”
“Let me check my schedule,” Leo Bartholomew replied.
In a moment, he said, “I’m free at three thirty p.m. I can’t go
past four p.m. as I’ve got to take my wife to a movie.”
“Really? A movie? What’s this?”
“She really wants to see this movie, and the matinee is
at four thirty.” Leo sounded sheepish.
“The great Leo Bartholomew is playing hooky with his
wife! That’s pretty damn funny.”
“OK, Matthew, you keep this under your belt.” Leo
laughed.
“Fine. See you at three thirty, then.”


The café at the Yale New Haven Hospital was just
refurbished, and it shone like a diamond. The floors,
countertops, and walls were all shiny and clean. The workers
who manned the different food stations were attired in black
aprons and caps, and they had sharp-edged collared shirts
under their aprons. Everyone was in good spirits, and the staff
and nurses and assistants had a great meal here all the time, if
they should need it.
Ingraham stood appreciatively at the entrance of the
café and surveyed it with a wrinkled gaze. His eyes scanned
the personnel until their gaze alighted upon the lean face of
Leo Bartholomew. “Ah!” they both said at the same time, and
they approached each other smiling.
“Hello, you look good!” Ingraham said with a genuine
smile. “You been out in the sun, I see!”
“I got dragged to the Caribbean with my wife. It’s
something she can’t get enough of.”
“Let’s have something, shall we?” Ingraham went
ahead of Bartholomew to the coffee and cakes where each
picked up a latte and doughnut.
Leo looked at Ingraham’s face with a speculative eye.
He said nothing until they sat down in a quiet corner.
“Matthew,” said Leo, “I don’t always get a visit from
the inspector of NHPD unless it’s serious.”
“Oh, come on,” Ingraham said with a wave of his hand.
“I’m just on a visit. Just wanted to ask a few questions.”
“About?”
“Well, what’s new with the department? I know that
you have a lot of residents now that are shipping off.”
“Yes, well, not for a few more weeks. I get a new batch
in July.”
“Oh.”
“So who are you interested in these days, Matthew?”
Ingraham sipped his coffee and ate a piece of his
doughnut before he replied. “Good doughnut.”
Leo preserved his silence and sipped his own cup of
coffee. He glanced at his watch.
“OK, OK,” Ingraham said placatingly, “I’m interested
in this one resident you have. Name of Mike Oates.”
Leo’s eyebrows lifted. He sat back and gave a short
sigh. “Oh. Him. What a hell of a—”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m sorry, this is not my best day of the week. Five
surgeries in a row. I really need this date with my wife. She
loves me to bits. I can’t stand it anymore—why I still work. I
can retire if I wanted to.” He paused. Then he sat forward.
“Look, this Mike Oates. I don’t know, but he was going to be
my next chief resident.”
“And?” Ingraham looked at him innocently.
“He quit yesterday.”
“He did, did he? Maybe he decided it was all too much
for him too.”
“No!” Leo exclaimed. “He wanted it. He was almost
like a puppy trying to fetch and carry for me. The guy wanted
the job. I am sure of it.”
“So what do you think made him quit?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did he tell you why he wanted to quit?”
Leo sighed again. “He said something about surgery
not being what he really wanted.”
“Is that right?” Ingraham sounded impressed. “Leo, I
want to talk to your Mike Oates. I can’t find him. Where
would he go?”
“Hell, I don’t know. I’m not their babysitter, Matthew.
Ask . . . ask that guy you call the chief of police. He’s your
guy. Don’t they have enough blues to find people?”
Ingraham suddenly pushed his cup away. “I can’t
stand this coffee now. Hell. I am pretty much of the opinion
that something in this case—”
“Wait, what case are you talking about?”
“Levy’s murder.”
“Hell.”
“Yes, hell indeed.”
“I don’t even think they knew each other. Levy was a
neurosurgeon. Oates would never touch that part of the body.
He’s a heart guy.”
“And he left you. Up and quit.”
“Do you really think there’s a connection?”
“My men think this. I am trying to get to this a different
way. I can’t tell you, but I really need to keep our chat quiet.”
“OK, you got it.”
Ingraham sat back, looking sad. “Well, I need to tell
them to really send out the APB on Oates. I hope he hasn’t
jumped ship and taken a flight to Aruba.”
Leo shook his head. “No, not him.”
“Really?”
“No.” Leo took a breath, then said, “I saw him when he
said he wanted to quit. He really looked like he lost his soul
about surgery. He just didn’t look like he was hungry for it
any longer.”
“Oh. Now that is strange. He’s been hungry, and then
he’s not. What could have happened?” Ingraham’s face
became frozen. “Unless he really had something to do with
Levy’s death.”
“Well, even if he did, I don’t think he’s the kind to ship
out and leave the country.”
Ingraham put his hand around his cup again. He
warmed his hand with it. “I’m afraid this is going to have to
go through channels, Leo.”
“Are you trying to tell me that Oates holds some kind
of special type of treatment and now it’s out of your hands?”
He leaned forward. “Tell me, Matthew. Who’s behind this
special visit from you?”
The inspector shook his head. “Can’t tell you. Maybe
one day.”
“OK, this makes me feel really sad. I now feel like
maybe Oates needs to show up, or else he’ll be churned up
and left to dry in some cell.”
Ingraham stood up suddenly. “I’m going to have to let
your wife have you now. I need to think.”
Leo stood up as well. “OK. I might send someone to
check on Oates’s place and see if they know anything.”
“Oh, that would be good.”
“Yes. Well, I sort of thought he was a gunner, but when
he came to see me yesterday, he seemed like he was a totally
different person.”
The two men said goodbye and left each other.
When Leo got to his office, he closed the door and
picked up his telephone. “Call Dr. Corcoran in, please.”
“Yes, Doctor,” the voice of his secretary replied.


The clock chimed 4:00 p.m., and a chuckle escaped
Ralph Corcoran’s throat. He was holding Rebecca
Bartholomew in his arms as they stood in her office. “You are
so adorable, Rebecca,” he said softly, his eyes devouring her
freckled face. “Why don’t we get married?”
“Oh, well . . . are you proposing, Dr. Corcoran?” she
asked primly.
“I guess I am. We’ve been dating for a few weeks now.”
“And you think that’s all we need? A few weeks of
dating?”
“Why wait? We love each other. Why can’t we get
married?”
“You’re not thinking straight. There’s my father to
contend with.”
Corcoran laughed. “He likes me. I know he likes me.”
“Er . . . no, he doesn’t.” She ducked out of his arms and
stood behind her desk. She wore a lab coat over a nice woolen
dress.
“OK, so he might think I’m a little flaky, but—”
“Flaky is not all you are. You are suspect.”
“Are you telling me this to discourage me? I know I
don’t meet all his expectations as a surgeon. He’s a very, very,
very serious doctor of surgery. I can’t compare to him. No one
can compare to him. In his opinion as well.” Corcoran threw
up his hands. “Listen, are you going to let him get in the way
of our getting married?”
“Have you thought of all that we have to go through in
getting married? I have a job here. I like my job. You . . . you
might be assigned in some out-of-the-way place like . . .
California!”
Corcoran’s mouth fell open. “What’s wrong with
California?”
“It’s too far from here.”
“Too far from Dad and Mom, right?”
Rebecca’s smile dimmed. “Oh, Ralph!” She started to
look like she was going to cry.
“Oh, oh, oh, don’t you cry now!” He went over to her
and embraced her. “OK, look. If you wish, I’ll make us a plan.
And then I’ll go ask your dad to consider me his son-in-law.
What about that?”
She thought for a moment. “OK. It’s just that Dad is so
full of . . . of himself. He scares all my boyfriends off.”
“I’m not just your boyfriend.”
“I know. You are a special, special man, and I do love
you!”
She was about to reach up and kiss him when his
beeper went off. He took it out of his pocket and then said,
“Let me use your phone. Somebody wants me stat.”
“OK.”
He dialed the number and was surprised to hear Leo
Bartholomew’s voice. “Uh . . . hello, Dr. Bartholomew. What
can I do for you?”
“I want you to look into Mike Oates for me. Find him,
please, and ask him to call me stat. If he’s not available, then
see if you can find him where he usually hangs out.”
“OK, sure!” Corcoran hung up and stared at the phone.
“What was my dad wanting?” Rebecca asked.
“He’s looking for Oates.”
“Oates? Mike Oates?”
“Yes, that guy.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. But this is strange.”
“Yes. But Dad is a strange one when he gets a bee in his
bonnet.”
They stared at each other for a moment. “Rebecca, I’ll
be seeing you later. I need to find Oates. It seems like
something’s gone off-kilter from Bartholomew’s voice.”

The Loveable Resident - Chapter Seventeen

All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright Mary Faderan and Colin Firth 2017



The spring buds in the backyard of Jonathan Moore’s
house had just edged upward over the ground the morning
when Mike and Henderson were having breakfast. Jonathan
didn’t notice the spring buds. He was fully awake and having
his own breakfast of steak and eggs, cooked by Marsh. The
dining room was cold, and a northeaster was blowing even
though the buds made their appearance. Jonathan glanced at
the windows and remarked to Marsh, “Seems like it will be
another hellish day in Columbus, Marsh, my man.”
“I’d like to walk in this weather, Jonathan.”
“I figured you would.” Jonathan slapped the morning
paper on the edge of the table and then spread the page out by
his plate. “Your days in the British Navy haven’t changed
your love for dark, fierce winters.”
“I’m a creature of habit, Jonathan.” He looked out the
window with a gleam in his eye. “If you have all you need,
I’m going to take my morning walk.”
“Go to it, my man. Go to it.” Moore looked closely at
the top of the paper and grunted—his habit when he didn’t
care for the headlines.
Marsh looked back as he walked toward the door. “Oh,
you had a call last night from Lauren.”
“Oh?”
“She was worried about Mike. He didn’t show for
dinner.”
Jonathan leaned back and frowned. “Hell. What does
that mean?”
Marsh paused. “Do I still get a walk, or do you need me
to do something?”
“I don’t know yet.” He stood up and picked up the
phone. “Why the blazes didn’t you tell me this last night?”
“I forgot,” Marsh said with a stone expression. “Mind,
Jonathan, I don’t like that Oates man. I think he’s better off
without our Lauren."
“Well, I don’t. He apparently loves my girl. So why
don’t you arrange for me to fly over to Connecticut? No walks
today.”
“Fly in this weather?” Marsh was incredulous.
“I’m sorry, but I will fly. There will be a plane to do it
in. I can imagine all sorts of hell in Connecticut now.”
Marsh bit his lip and then left.
The call from Lauren came within seconds of Moore
leaving her a voice mail. “Dad, I’m glad you called. Did Marsh
tell you?”
“What exactly is happening?”
“I don’t know where Mike has gone to. He told me he
was going to pick me up for lunch. He never came. And I
called his cell, and it was always going to his voice mail. I
want to know what to do. Has he been taken in by the
police?”
“I don’t think so. I would have heard.”
“Well, I’ll try him again this morning.”
“Don’t. I will make some calls, and then I’ll head over
there. I’ll come see you at your hotel in the next few hours.”
“OK.”
“Lauren, do take care, will you?”
Her voice was small, sounding lost. “I will. I’m just not
sure where he went!”
“Possibly he was detained by some emergency case at
the hospital.”
“I would have gotten that message,” she sounded
unconvinced. “No, I think he’s in some trouble. I can feel it.”
“Don’t be alarmed. There is no evidence that he is in
trouble.”
“Dad, I think I would know if he was in trouble.”
Moore sighed. “I’ll be there soon. Just stay put and
have the phone by your side.”
He rang off and headed for the car waiting outside.
Marsh stood by the driver’s-side door, looking half guilty and
half gruff. “Oh, don’t look like that Marsh! It’ll all be OK.”
“What can I do?”
Moore told him, and then they got into the car. The
billowing snow enveloped the car as it disappeared into the
street.

The Loveable Resident - Chapter Sixteen

All rights reserved
(c) Copyright Mary Faderan and Colin Firth

Mike’s watch told him it was after 9:00 a.m. when the
rap on the door sounded. “Hey, Oates, you awake yet?”
The sneer in the man’s voice made Mike’s fist clench.
“Why don’t you come in and find out?” Mike retorted
and then realized the question was intended to make him
angry.
When Sal entered his room, his sharp eyes took in the
untouched food and the clothes that were still on Mike. Sal
sauntered in and made a small smirk on his face. “You gotta
eat, Oates. You need some of the calories to get through today.
It’s gonna be a big day for you.”
“So you say, Sal.”
“OK, you are now going to have brunch with the boss.”
“Is he a boss? So what is he, some kind of mob boss,
Sal?”
Sal’s dark face darkened even more in anger. “You shut
up about that, Oates.”
“I’m ready for my breakfast,” Mike said coolly as he
passed him on the way out the door.
The morning room was well-appointed—lots of light
and airy drapes that hung from the ceiling down to the floor.
The windows were opened to a courtyard. In the room, a long
table, made of mahogany, was laden down with covered
dishes—silver and ornate, heated from beneath with small
sterno candles. There was the aroma of fresh coffee, scrambled
eggs, all kinds of pastries, and croissants. In one corner, a chef
prepared the meal for Henderson, who was standing at the
french doors, looking out.
When Mike entered the room, Henderson looked
around and saw him. He paused momentarily and scanned
Mike’s face. “Mike, Mike, so good to see you looking rested!”
Henderson came up to Mike and steered him to the table.
“Look, here. We have a great spread for you. You are an
honored guest. After all, you father and I—we go back a long
way.”
“So I hear,” Mike said without emotion.
“I’m having our breakfast outside—on the balcony.
Orange juice? Or a Bloody Mary perhaps?”
“I’ll have coffee and whatever you are eating, thank
you.”
“Good choice. I don’t like juice in the morning. Makes
too much fat, you know? All those carbs from the—” He saw
Mike’s face and stopped. He frowned slightly before handing
Mike a plate. “Here, a nice plate big enough for a hearty
breakfast. We have a lot to discuss today.”
Mike mechanically went through the dishes and put
something from them on his plate. He wanted to kill
Henderson, but that wasn’t possible. All he hoped for was that
he would be leaving today and going to see Lauren. It killed
Mike that Lauren was all alone. He feared Jonathan Moore’s
anger more than Henderson any day. And then he
remembered that glowering look that Marsh gave him.
“Lost in your thoughts, Mike?”
“Uh . . . no. I’m ready to eat. Is this where you wanted
us to eat and talk?”
“Yes, yes.” Henderson looked at him with a winning
smile. “Take a seat, relax. Once we have our talk, I can have
Sal take you to your room where you can shower and shave.
The road back to New Haven is a little long, but you’ll be
fresh as a daisy when you arrive.”
They ate in relative silence. Henderson had a copy of
the Wall Street Journal at his elbow. He never looked at it. Mike
decided that Henderson was eager to talk.
Mike debated whether he ought to say something first.
Then Henderson beat him to it. “Mike, you remember what
we talked about last night, don’t you?”
“Why don’t you refresh my memory, Henderson? I
wasn’t exactly in a great mood to receive your proposal.”
“Mike, now you know that your father, George, and I
had a contract that gave me half of the shares of your bank in
Columbus.”
“I did not know that. My father didn’t discuss his bank
dealings with me.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Well, so now, in this contract, I really want this bank
on my terms. I want to run it and manage it and get my
people in it.”
“I see.”
“You are in some need of support, are you not?”
“Tell me how I am.”
Henderson pursed his lips and sat silent for a moment.
“What I will say, Mike, is that you are in an existential pit of
snakes now. You are a suspect in a murder case, and don’t try
to deny it.”
“I do deny it, Henderson. What are you talking about?”
Henderson clenched his jaw. “You were seen running
away from a murder scene. You were seen, Mike Oates.”
“Who was I supposed to have killed?”
“You play this very well. I won’t give you too much
more. I am sick of your innocent playacting.”
Mike leaned forward, his blue eyes dark with anger.
“Let me out of here, Henderson. Whatever you want, just ask
me and I’ll see what I can do for you.”
“You must know that you are going to be nailed for the
murder of James Levy. Do you not remember that night? It
was in January, and you got into words with Levy, isn’t that
what happened?”
Mike said nothing.
“OK. Here’s the deal. For your freedom from further
investigation, I am prepared to buy from you the remains
shares of Columbus Bank and Trust, owned by your father
and then your representatives. I want to get this bank, and
then if you and when you sign those over to me, I will give
you enough money to get the hell out of this country. You
have all the money you need. And I’ll sweeten the deal for
you, my friend Mike.” Henderson smiled with a wink. “Missy
Wright is going to be your long-loving wife when you finally
get your money, and she and you will have a one-way ticket
to Paris after you have said your marriage I dos.” He flipped a
coin over to Mike. “Capisce?”
Oddly enough, Mike felt unsurprised by this. It seemed
as though he had a scenario of this that was in his mind
sometime in the last twenty-four hours. Mike pretended to
think. He took a small portion of bacon and ate it. Then he
wiped his lips with the linen napkin.
Finally, he leaned back and stared at Henderson. “On
two conditions.”
“What are they?”
“One, that Lauren Moore does not get harmed in any
way through any of this. She gets home free and clear.”
“Done.”
“Two, I need two days to get my lawyers to draw up
the paperwork.”
“Two days?” Henderson was irate. “What the hell? I
have lawyers, Mike Oates.”
“You don’t see it my way, at least on this end. I need
my mother taken care of. She is still one of my dad’s heirs, and
the money that is profited by Columbus Bank and Trust keeps
her happy with whatever stuff she needs.”
“So you want her to get some kind of annuity?”
“Damn right I do.”
Henderson shrugged. “OK.”
“And I want to go back to New Haven in ten minutes.”
“That’s OK.” Henderson stood up. “You are a smart
one, Mike Oates. No wonder the guys in Harvard took you
in.”

My Life of Bounty

I’ve had a day where I’ve had to struggle with the idea that my stepfather is not good. He and I live in the house he had built back in 2003. I now have to deal with the way it looks to other people. I think he’s got it in his head that I ought to be his girl. I don’t like it. I already think he’s gross. I don’t want anything to do with him. I thought he was my real father until lately. I found out that he’s an actor that was hired to take care of me and this acting has now been revealed to people who were my real family. Now I need to get some means to leave my home and travel to another country, in Europe – I wish to go to Paris. My real family live in England. But the Queen hates me and has made her people go after me. I think I’ll be safer in Paris and I can work and live there away from this actor who’s been hired by the Queen to keep an eye on me. She has given him money to keep us in a house and get some sort of basic care to keep the house from getting to look sad. But this actor who’s my stepfather isn’t doing all he can to give me a proper life. The trips he makes to the grocery store result in things like tinned food, frozen fried chicken, bacon, eggs, and sausage, and when I ask him he brings things that I want but I have been made to feel unable to ask for more food. He isn’t able to buy too many things, he says, because he has his social security check all set for different bills like water, energy, sewage and the mortgage and his car. He’s not saying anything else about his extra income that’s been given to him from England by his boss. She’s not a good person. Her life since I was kidnapped from my house in England has been spent trying to find out how things are going with me. I need to find a refuge to go to and I wish to go to Paris. I hope that they will give me a place to live. I’m able to work still. I’m applying to European businesses so I think if things work out maybe I’ll get a job somewhere there. I’m not going to worry too much. But the daily presence of this bastard that is pretending to be my father is draining me of my optimistic nature. I’m unable to be up and about. I cannot go out to do my errands because people tell me that there are many who want to kidnap me and carry me away. They have placed a huge bounty on my head, these people who are organized by that person in England. I am a threat to her position. And I am a threat to her children and her grandchildren. If you would please donate any amount. It will be a benefit to me and my family who are unable to help me from where they are. Thank you.

Please donate to my GoFundMe. Thank you.

Here's the URL: gf.me/u/yh4ivy

14 July 2020

ANNOUNCEMENT:

Colin Firth and I have submitted TWO screenplays to several Film Festivals and expect to be present to accept their awards (should they be given awards) in person.

Thai Lime Chicken Salad

Mary here,

Colin is out for the day.  I took a nap and had a wild dream about getting slashed in my thigh. It was so real to me it really made feel unhappy.  I was about to post this before I felt unwell and went to take a nap.  Here it is now:

Ingredients

Serves 4

2 tablespoons grapeseed or canola oil, if needed
8 ounces rice noodles
4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
1/2 cup Thai Lime Dipping Sauce (see below)
1/4 cup canola oil
1/2 pound baby spinach leaves
1 pint cherry tomatoes, halved

1.  Prepare an outdoor grill and heat to hot. Spray the grid well with nonstick cooking spray. Alternatively, heat a grill pan or large heavy saute pan over high heat.  Add the grapeseed oil and swirl to coat the pan.

2.  Combine the noodles with hot tap water to coer and allow to soak until soft about 30 minutes.  Drain well.

3.  Meanwhile, lightly season the chicken with salt and pepper.  Grill or saute the chicken on both sides util coloured and the juices run clear when the breasts are pierced with the tip of a knife, 8 to 10 miutes total.  Allow the breasts to cool until warm.

4.  Slice the breasts 1/2 inch thick.  In a large bowl large enough to hold it, combine the chicken with 1/4 cup of the Thai Lime Dipping sauce and marinate for 10 minutes.

5.  Meanwhile, place the remainng 1/4 cup  of sauce in a large mixing bowl and whisk in the canola oil.  Correct the seasoning with salt and pepper.  Add the noodles, spinach, and tomatoes and toss.  Add the chicken, including the marinade, and toss well.  Serve immediately in large chilled bowls.

Thai Lime Dipping Sauce

Makes about 5 cups
Lasts 1 week, refrigerated

2 cups Thai fish sauce (nam pla)
3 cups fresh or bottled lime juice
1/2 cup chopped fresh cilantro
1/2 cup chopped fresh basil
1/2 cup chopped fresh mint
1 tablespoon peeled and minced fresh ginger

In a large nonreactive bowl, combine the ingredients and mix.  Use or store.

First draft

This is my first draft of The Loveable Resident Sequel.  There are typos.  I'm not quite able to continue with this novel for some reason.  I wanted to show it to you and see if you like it.  Comments are welcome.  Thank you for the review.


(c) Copyright Mary Faderan 2019
All rights reserved

CHAPTER ONE

The blue skies over the Appalachian Mountains were quite interesting this morning.  From the view that Laura Moore Oates had in her kitchen window, in a modest Cape Cod house that she and her husband, Mike (Doctor Mike to the local gentry) owned.  The skies had streaks of clouds, sharp and angled across a flaming sunrise.  Orange, reds, and the blue azure background, Laura saw this and smiled to herself.  She was a wife of three years to Michael Oates, MD. 

She had grey eyes, her hair was cut somewhat long but carelessly brushed back to reveal a face that was pale and drawn. In her thirties, Laura was still attractive and had a good figure.  Time with Mike was kind to her, she thought.  But she never had kids and Mike never wanted to talk about kids with her.  It was something they never discussed.  It might be, she thought, due to how he had a bad relationship with his own father, George Oates.

George, she knew, was a bastard.  He stole his wife away from Jonathan Moore, Laura's father.  Moore was still alive, in his cozy house in Columbus, Ohio.  They spoke sometimes during the months but Jonathan never came to visit.  He had an aversion towards Mike.  Laura tried to quell the sad feelings that went up from her chest to her throat.

Life with Mike was good, she still insisted to herself.  But there was a lack of vivacity and she missed the city of Columbus, those bright and happy days when she worked as a lawyer for her father's firm.  It was a lack that she couldn't fulfill as Mike's wife.  She never truly cared to leave the Law.  But she was his wife now and their love was what kept her in that place, that place where the poorest of all American whites lived.  There were some things that she couldn't quite get used to but it would only bother her if she was out and about.

She had to do her own work.  Mike hated to have someone come to help with the chores.  He rather Laura did it all.  Mike, she realized just then, was a spoiled man.  He had his job as the physician in charge at the local hospital where he was the only internist on staff.  He earned some more money now than when they first got married. Then, he was a working doctor in the very poor area of Appalachia.  That was because he was serving time for having accidentally (his word) killed off a man who tried to threaten his career at Yale New Haven Hospital.

The judge and Mike's boss, Leo Bartholomew, and his arresting officer, Inspector Ingraham, got together with the judge whose name Laura couldn't remember, and dealt with Mike's destiny.  He would not serve time in prison for the real murderer was a hit man hired by one of George Oates' mob connection.  The murder of Dr james Levy was made by a hit man paid by Ross, the mobster from Branford Connecticut, and urged on by Ross' familyl friend Missy wright.  Missy's aunt died on the table and James Levy was the offending surgeon - neurosurgeon - who let her bleed out, they charged.  Missy was also the ex-girlfriend of Mike Oates.

There were so many turbulent events in the courtship of Mike and Lauren.  The courtship was a passionate fling, then it was borne out of a connection that was secret, that secret was that Mike had stabbed Levy and left him for dead and fled for his life.  He sought Lauren out to see if she could find a way to get him out of his existential hole.

Then they had more time together while he hid and while he was placed under the care of Jonathan Moore, who himself had a pledge to help Mike Oates whose mother, Olivia was Jonathan's former fiancee.

It was a mixed up world for Lauren.  She was dazzled by Mike's good looks, as many women in his life had been.

She heard the scuffling of something in the garage and she realized that a squirrel had lodged itself in the gap above in the roof.  Lauren went to the nearest closet and took out a broom.  "Damn squirrel," she muttered to herself.  She took the broom, then went up the rickety stairs to the attic and amidst the dusty furnishings marched to the spot where the squirrel might have odged itself and jabbed at the spot with the endn of the broom.

The suirrel scurried away and left an odd silence.

Lauren shivered and felt very much alone.

She got back to the kitchen and went to the telephone.  She dialed Mike's number.

"Hello."  His voice sounded disembodied.

"Mike, I'm missing you, suddenly."

"Oh, why is that?"

"Oh that squirrel."

"Did you beat him up?"

"No, I just jabbed at the spot he was in." She sighed.  "What time do you think you'll be home tonight?"

There was a pause.  He might have been looking at the clock.  Laura knew she was too early to ask him.

"I'm not sure. It's only past nine.  What if I called you around three and tell you?"

"Ok.  ARe you doing ok?"  Somehow Lauren wondered whether he ought to ask her that question even though -  she paused and shook her head slightly.

"Ok, fine. Talk to you later."

He hung up.

"Hell."  She hated it when he never lingered to talk to her.

Lauren hung up the phone and decided to get dressed.  She was going out and nobody was going to stop her.

She got out of her house clothes and put on something nice.  A pant suit, something out of her old career as a lawyer in Columbus.  She still had the figure to fit into it.  It made her smile somehow.  "Well, we'll see what we'll see out there, shall we?"  She said to herself.

Mike Oates, MD sat back and stared at the woman in front of him.  She was one of the nurses who had a thing for him.  "Ok, tell me what more news about the patients."  MIke said coolly.

"Just that Mr. Jonah is doing worse.  He is asking to get released though."

"Fat chance of that."

"And then Mrs. Jenkins needs to have more dialysis bags and the pharmacy is threatening they might not have enough for the week."

"Tell them I'll make them hurt if they don't give  her what she needs."

"And that teenager who needs to have a GI series is doing worse."

"Ok, I'll check that one.  Name?"

"Oh, here, let me see."  She checked her notepad.  Oates noticed she was a pale blond and that her lips were well formed.  "Rizzo."

"Rizzo?"

"Yes, Idemno Rizzo."

"Ok fine. I'll go see them."  He sighed. "Go now.  I'm hearing my phone."

The nurse, whose name he forgot, got up.

"Er - what's your name again?"  Oates asked.

She looked at him with a flash of irritation. Surely he remembers people's names, she had thought.  "Annie."

"Ok Annie.  I'll touch base with you later."

He turned to take out his cell and waited till Annie left the office.  "Oates, who's this?"

"Hey, it's Ross. How's the man from Hell doing?"

"Hell with you for that."

"Ok, so I'm not supposed to call you ut I'm now out of jail."

"Hurrah."

"I'm in need of your help, Mike.  Remember?  We were talking..."

"No we were not. You got arrested for trying to kidnap me and for sicing that Missy on my fiancee.  What we have to say to each other is not important now."

"No, you have a debt to pay."

Mike leaned forward.  "I'm not sure I am hearing you right, you bastard."

"YOu need to talk about this.  You signed that agreement.  You were going to be my guy and that you were going to have Missy and that you were never going to be in jail for anything."

"What do you mean never going to be in jail?  I did  not go to jail, I was given a reprieve.  Your man killed that bastard.  Not me."

"I hate to tell you but I still have that agreement you signed."

"I've a mind to call Ingrahma and make them take you back to jail."

"No, Ingraham's retired and he's in LaLa Land doing flips in the pool where his girlfriends love him."

"I hate you."

"Ok so here's the deal.  I want that bank you have 50 [ercent of and need that 50 percent of yours."

"Hell with that."

"No you're in hell, Mike.  I'm now in my lovely palace in Branford.  They never do much to people like me in Connecticut.  The whole fucking state is in the Mob. Hear me?"

"Hate you."

"I can't help that.  Shall we talk sometime?  Somewhere?"

Mike felt sick to his stomach.  He gripped the cell phone and resisted the urge to throw it out the window.

"No, I won't talk."

"Hey, don't talk too hastily.  I'm taking a look at that lovely wife of yours."

"You in town?"

"I'm in town."

Mike decided not to say too much.  He had an inkling that his cell was being guarded still.

"Ok, you don't wanna talk, let's me say something,"  Ross said smoothly.  "I'm going to the poor man's hotel bar in town here and I'll be waiting for you let's say around 4:30 pm.  You get your slim butt here and we can have a chow down."

"Go fuck yourself."

"I'll see you there."

Ross took his glasses off, the shades were too dark and he was watching Lauren leave her sleek Toyota Camry and march into the Elite Beauty Salon.  "She's still quite pretty, isn't she?"  Ross asked.

"Yes, she's still a looker."

Ross glanced at his companion.  His companion was Linn, his manservant.  "I'm sure there'll be some nice guy who'll like to have her once we've taken care of Oates."

"Sick of that bastard."  Linn said coldly.  "When do you need this woman out of his life?"

"No, not that fast.  She'll have to find out how stupid she was to have gotten involved with him."

"How are we going to manage that?"

"Easy, he's rattled now and he'll be a boor to her for the rest of their lives together."

"Ha."

"Yes, ha."

CHAPTER TWO

Mike Oates looked impatiently at the clock in the nurses' station as he signed off on the last of his patients' charts. He ignored the chatter of the area from the nursing personnel and dodged an oncoming dinner trolley that the cafe staff had put in his path while the chef went into a patient's room to serve dinner.  "Damn it," muttered Oates. 

"Whoa there, Mike.  Where's the fire?"  A familiar voice came from behind him.

It was the hospital administrator, Strater, who Mike hated to see whenever he was in a hurry.

But Mike paused and said, "Hi, Strater.  I'm on my way to see someone.  Appointment outside the hospital." He hated having to tell the truth.

"Oh, hey, don't let me stop you,"  the man smiled at him with a winning smile.  A real doctor who loved his job, Mike said to himself. "I just wanted to say that we want to make sure you and the missus attend the annual picnic this Saturday.  YOu'll come, won't you, Mike?"

Mike glanced again at the clock.  "Sssure, I'll tell the wife."

"Ok fine.  Great to talk to you." Strater walked away with a smile still on his face.  But the nurse who saw him coming at her looked strangely at him.

She went to her friend and said in a hush, "That Strater sure hates that guy MIke Oates."

"Why d'you say that?"

"Oh, just that he made a face after he talked to Mike Oates."

"Oates is like some ass-licking SOB." The other person said with a sniff.  "He's cutting out early again today."

"Oh really?"

"I've been thinking he's done it several times this week."

"But he's a doctor, they never hang around after five o'clock."

"Jes' like any doctor."

They both snickered and watched MIke hurry out of sight.

The black 1957 Mercedes Benz that Mike drove wheeled out of its parking spot and blended into the traffic that was coming from the huge parking lot behind the Lofton Hospital building where MIke had hospital privileges.  Mike inherited the car from his mother, Olivia, who had it forever since George Oates died.  Olivia, now in her sixties, was wheelchair bound and did not drive at all.  Mike was expected to take care of her but since he was still serving his time in the Appalachias, she was cared for by the area hospital nursing care where she recovered some months ago from a stroke.  He called her from time to time and she could talk to him but it was clear he really didn't know what to talkt o her about.  She used to talk about everything, all the social stuff, seeing her favorite hair dresser, the shops, the movies she saw, mostly with Jonathan Moore, and all that sort of thing.  But she wasn't able to really talk well and so it was his turn to tell her about his life and it wasn't much to talk about.

He hated his life and it was only tolerable when he came home from work and Lauren had dinner ready.  She wanted to do more for him by working but he said he didn't want her to work for some criminal law guy who would have poverty stricken defendants to talk to.  Mike was too much into his prestige as a doctor.  He always stressed how his years at Yale New Haven gave him a good background in medicine.

But he didn't call home today.  He was more interested in keeping this conversation with Ross a private thing.

He finally went into a small parking lot which was next to the popular bar and grill - the only one in the area - which made him even more unhappy.  He was a famous person in the place where they lived by now. But nobody ever knew why he was practicing there.  Nobody spoke about how he ended up in such a bad podunk town where they paid him a pittance where he could have earned millions of dollars somewhere in Beverly Hills or Park AVenue.  And everyone couldn't talk too much about how his beautiful wife was just going to pot in their ranch house near the Tennessee Creek that came up behind it. 

Mike was in a bad mood by the time he got into the bar and grill restaurant.  The place was not filled with customers, which he was glad about. But he spotted Ross having a martini and sampling some appetizers behind the bar close to the back.  Something about this scene gave Mike a dread and then he realized Ross knew everyone in the place and they knew just where to put him.

It made him even more upset.  By the time he got to Ross' table, he was fairly steaming.  "What the hell do y ou want?"

"Hey, now, what about How are you, haven't seen you for a while, what's going on?" Ross raised his eyebrows at him.

"YOu sure haven't changed much since they hauled you into prison."

"You look tired, MIke.  Let's have a chat, shall we?"  Ross smiled at him impersonally.  Ross was the sort of guy who had no real ability to look old.  He looked old but didn't.  He had a creased face, mostly due to a lack of fatty tissue. WHereas MIke had a face that tended to look a bit fat and today he wasn't in his best mood which added to the sullen and jowly features of his face.  "I think you need to sit down."

The tone of Ross' voice was low and emphatic.

Mike sat down finally.  He didn't bother to remove his jacket.  They squared off before each other. 

The waiter came and asked Mike for his order.

"I'm not staying."

"Sure you are. Give him a nice scotch, will you?  And bring some more appetizers."  Ross said with an affable smile at the waiter.

The waiter left and then silence came on.

Ross waited for a few minutes.  Mike wasn't sure what he was in for.  He felt a churning in his stomach.  It wasn't his ulcer but it was getting to that point.  "I'm sure you have something to tell me.  Just tell me now."

"HOw's the wife?"  Asked Ross suddenly.

There was a hunted ook on Mike's face.  "She's good.  Don't talk about her."

"Ok, well, Missy's married now.  She married a nice guy who practices plastic surgery in Manhattan."

"Hell with that."

"And they're expecting twins."

"Oh hell."

"She had to spend some time in jail but the lawyer we got her made her have a very short term in jail."

"Ok fine."

"I have to tell you she doesn't iss you one itty bit."

"Tell me what you want to tell me, my wife is having a good dinner for me."

The waiter arrived.  The drink was served and remained untouched.

"Hate this, Ross. Tell me what you want."

"Oh ok.  Here,"  he took out a sheaf of pae=pers from his inside jacket pocket.  "Rememver this?'

"YOu'll tell me."

"Papers you signed.  These are goin g to make me fucking rich, my man.  Here, you signed over all of your percentage of Oates Columbus Bank.  You said you'd honor this for the very reason that you wanted to keep your life intact nand that we weren't going to tell on you fo killiing James Levy."

"I did NOT kill James Levy."

"NO, you didn't hang around to see if he was really dead.  But you sure opened a big wound that got his guts spilling out on the pavement, didn't you?" Ross spat out at him, venom came out of his mouth and his eyes were furious.

"So,"  Mike smiled at him finally.  "So I did not kill him.  So I don't care. I'm servign some of this time here and I am still not convicted of this man's murder.  YOu and Missy wanted Levy deead beore I got to him and I just gave the guy some pause time to get really killed by your moronic hit man."

"Sure, that happened that way."  Ross spread the document in front of MIke but Mike brushed it away. "Hey, don't do that, you bastard."  Ross was mad now.  "It's stlil a document and it's legal.  You need to honor it, Mister Doctor."

"What about if I said no."

"We'll sue you.  And then eveyting about you will come out of hiding. YOur dear wife will be so very disappointed.  I bet you she's already feeling awfully sad and missing the best life a lawyer could have in Columbus, Ohio.  What about that, Mike?"

"Crap."

"Ok go ahead.  Just go ahead and say yes for once in your god forsaken life.  Tell me that I'll be the full owner of this stupid bank.  I want it and I want it now."

Mike got up and the sudden movement made the chair fall over behind him.  The other customers paused and watched.  Some people whispered. ISnt' that Dr Mike Oates?  They all asked each other.

Ross smiled with a sprarkle in his eye. "Ok you're behaving like a bad boy.  YOu were always a spoiled bastard.  Why don't you just get this through your head. I'm going to give you till Saturday to finally let this document go live in the courts of Ohio.  I'lm going to wait and see and if you don't go and agree with this, you will be sorry."

"Sorry, huh?"

"Just leave, you're boroing me now."

Ross turned away and started to nurse his martini.

Mike left feelig like the sails in his quarter had gotten ripped.  He was in a horrible mood by the time he got to the car.  Inside, he sat and felt sick.  He didn't have any way of finding out if this document was legal or not.  If it wasn't legal he could still say no, but the man was threatening the courts to get this bank and he had signed it.  It was signed under duress, true, but what was going keep that argument sticking.

He had to ask someone.  If he told Lauren, the lawyer in his immediate family, she would be truly disapointed in her life with him.  It made him even more depressed.

He couldn't talk to his mother, Olivia.  It would proably finish her off.

Jonathan would be someone he could talk to but Jonathan wasn't too friendly these days.  He was really finished with Mike by now, he guessed.

The drive home was uneventful which was to Mike's luck.  The only luck he was ever going to have.  Ross was winning this round, he knew. The time was five thirty in the evening.  It was just the worst of days for him.  He felt like killing himself.  He wanted to but it was not a strong urge yet.

Chapter Three

Lauren came out from the beauty salon with a well-groomed hair style.  She used to have a long fall of dark hair which Mike loved to touch and put his fingers through.  But Lauren wasn't that attached to the style so she cut it shorter, about her shoulders, a yeaer after they got married.  She looked good still, but her figure had become less taut, and that was because Mike forbade her to go for her daily run.  Instead they invested in a treadmill that Lauren hated to use.  Mike, she thought, became too controlling of her and it wasn't getting their relatoinship in a better path.  There was no real closeness between them, and MIke was sometimes distant, especially after he came home from work. She would ask him what the problem was but he would merely wave his hand and retreat into his small study.

She went to her car and used the keyless entry that her car featured.  But as she approached the car, a car came out of nowhere and she realized too late that the man was driving backwards out of his parking slot. He had not seen her car parked behind his and he drove his backside into her car's.

"Oh my God!"  Lauren exlaimed.  She was mad as fury and then went on to watch helplessly as the man stopped his car and got out.

He looked handsome in his navy suit. Lauren couldn;t deny that he was attractive. He went to see the damage.  His face was grim and then he looked up and saw her.  "Is this your car?"

"Yes, and you've wrecked it!" She said with bitterness in her voice.  She was going to have to explain this to Mike.  It wasn't a great thing to look forward to, she knew.

The man went to her and said, "Look I didn't realize that your car was right behind mine. You must have parked after I did.  Listen,"  he tried to be conciliatory. "I'll pay for damages, honest.  Let me give you my contact information. Let's not get upset, it's not a lot of damage, listen, are you alright?"

"I am." She tried to look brave and said,  "My husband is going to be very upset with me."

"Oh, don't worry.  I'm loaded.  I have a good insurance and I'm sure this thing will be fixed in no time."

Lauren breathed in and sighed.  "Ok, well, it's a fender bender.  I'm sure this can be resolved."

He looked at her with a renewed interest.  "You're not from around here, are you?"

"No, I'm from Ohio."

"No kidding!"  His face creased into a smile. Lauren saw he had lovely blue eyes that rivaled Mike's.

"No, I'm from Columbus.  Do you come from there, Ohio, I mean?"

"I'm from Cincinnatti. I was visiting a client here.  I'm a lawyer, by the way."

"Oh, my God.  So am I!"  Lauren was grinning.  "My father is Jonathan Moore, he has a big law firm in Columbus."

He paused. "I'm Randolph Linn.  I work in New York and Ohio and Michigan.  I have a large law firm too.  I"m visiting a patient who is stranded in the area.  I hope that my poor car and your car will get fixed soon.  I'm at this hotel.  I can be reached at this cell number."  He gave her his card.

Sure enough, it was a card that was very classy - linen and black embossed lettering.  Lauren was getting impressed increasingly at this man.  "I"m Lauren Oates.  I'm married to Mike Oates.  He and I grew up in Columbus."

He looked disappointed. "You're married?"

She was embarassed.  "Yes, why?"

"I thought you were a student or something."

"I am sure you are kidding me."

"NO, look, why don't we meet tomorrow.  We'll discuss the weather in Ohio, or, we could do something about getting our cars fixed.  Is there a place here that you use to fix cars?"  Randolph Linn looked about in some distaste.  "This place is really not my speed.  I guess you know the places here to fix anything?"

Lauren felt more embarrassed.  "Oh, I can get this car fixed sometime.  Just give me your insurance and I'll get rid of the dent."

"OH, no, you and I need to talk."

"Well, I - uh - I"

"No, I need to know what you're doing in this town? You're a lawyer, I guess and that seems like you're a fish out of water in this place."

He looked at her up and down and with an appreciative look as well in his eyes.

She stood on one foot and then the other, as though she was a little girl who wasn't quite used to all this appreciative looks.  "I'm a lawyer but I don't practice."

"Ok, I need to talk to you about that." He gave her should er a pat.  "Let's talk ok? Tomorrow? How about lunch? Is that good?  I'll come to pick you up - oh - give me your address and let's go for a nice drive in the better neighborhoods in this town."

She reluctantly gave him her address which he carefully noted in his cell phone.  Lauren smiled uncertainly as he went off to his car.  He waved and got inside.  Soon he was motoring away.  The blast of interst from his personality made a big difference to Lauren.  She felt as though she was blown away by this man's personality.  He seemed so interested in her.  Lauren slowly got into her car and sat in it for a full minute before she started the motor.  "Oh, my God, thtat was intresting." Her breathing slowed and then she felt happy.  It was so nice that she met someone who was a lawyer and it was so fortuitous that she had been looking her best.

Chapter Four

The house was dark when Mike got home. He uttered a short expletive. 'What the hell - ?'  He took his jacket off as he put the light switch on.  Immediately, the living room was illuminated with a soft light that came from the strategically placed lamps in the room.  "Where is she?"  He asked aloud.

Just as he entered the kitchen, the kitchen door opened.  Lauren, with her new styled hair and chic outfit, entered.  She wasn't looking up but looking down at her purse.  She realized someone was in the kitchen with her, and she glanced up.  "Oh!  You're home."

"Damn right I'm home.  Where the hell have you been?  What's with the hair?"  He interrogated.

She looked at him, her feelings shrinking at the anger that she sensed in him, but her face was immobile.  "I've been out. I had a hair appointment."

"Oh, so you spent all day there?"

"No, I did not.  She was booked solid and I had to wait a bit."  Lauren looked away and put the keys on the hook near the door.  "I'll have dinner in a few.  You like steak and some potatoes, is that what we want for dinner?"

Her tone was not heated but he knew she was mad at him despite this.   Mike lost his irate attitude and slumped in his stance.  "Hell, whatever you want, I'll eat it.  I've had a lousy day."

"Obviously."

"No, I'm fucking sorry now.  Dont make dinner. Let's have something from the freezer."

"No, don't be too eager for frozen food.  I need to do some work."

He looked at her with a quizzical face.  "Why?"

She flushed.  "I got into an accident."

"Oh, my God what do you mean?"

"Oh it was a small dent."

"When did that happen just now? Is that why you were late coming back?"

"No, I mean, it was after I got out of the salon."

"Hell, that's just fine.  You with an accident and me with a hell of a visit from some bastard out of Connecticut."

"Oh who was that?"

He turned around and started to leave the room.  "YOu don't want to know."

Lauren took the steak out of the refrigerator and put it on the plate that she placed on the kitchen table. "Dinner in a half hour, ok?"

"Ok."

She didn't push asking him.  It was what she had feared all her married life.  Someone was going to have to deal with him and what he did in Connecticut.  At Yale New haven Hospital.  Lauren sickened in her own stomach at the idea.  She thought it was done and over with. Why did she ever think this was over?  Her fears began to crowd into her mind and she felt unable to move at this phenomenon that she hated it.  Her eyes were at the open door where Mike had exited.  "I'm sick to death, my God, I don't know why but I'm really fucking sick to death."  She uttered in a low voice.

The phone rang at that moment and she hesitated.  Did she want to talk on the phone now? Something told her to move and answer the phone. "Hello?"

"Hello Miss Lauren, it's Marsh."  It was her father's valet.

"Marsh,"  she gripped the phone. Don't tell me, she said to herself.  "What a surprise.  How are you?"

"I'm good. YOur father needs to see you."

"Oh no why?"

"He's got a case he wants you to help him with."

"Really,"  her voice became more like her voice and not the sullen or even the lifeless tone it had with Mike.  "I'm sure that I can come to help.  Does he want me tomorrow?"

"Yes he's got a flight for you to take.  Just go to the airport and check in on American.  He'll have you on the flight.  I'll be there at the airport to take you home."

"Good.  That's good."  Lauren felt buoyant.  "I'm glad Marsh.  Are you doing ok?"

"Never been better, despite the old gout."  There was a slight irony in his tone.  "Are you alright, Miss Lauren?"

"Oh, it's just that I had a small accident today."
There was a pause. "Then we can help you with that, I'm sure."

She did'nt say anything.  Then Marsh said, "I'll see you tomorrow.  FLight is at seven in the morning.  You'll need to get to the airport an hour before is that good?"

"I think so." Her stomach fluttered with excitement and tension.  "Oh, my, this is nice of Father to ask me to help him."

"He's needing a lot of help on this case.  I'll see you tomorrow then, shall I?"

"Yes, of course."

Marsh hung up and looked at Jonathan Moore.  "She was in an accident."

"Oh is that so?  She's not hurt?"

"NO she said it was a small accident."

"Nothing really big happens where they live, thank God."

"Not really, but she sounded upset when she first answered."

Jonathan steepled his hands and then said, "Oh well.  It's just as well I need her expert help."

"Yes."  Marsh said with a flat expressoin on his face.

#

Lauren decided to take the bull by the horns and tell Mike that her father wanted her to help with a case the next morning.  So she served a juicy big steak for him to tackle with a heaping amount of mashed potatoes.  Then she announced, "My father wants me to go to Columbus tomorrow to help with a big case.  I'm flying out from Knoxville at seven in the morning.  That means I need to leave her not later than six in the morning."

Mike was about to put a large piece of steak into his mouth when she said this and he paused.  "What?"

"I just said,"  Lauren said as she settled down across him to serve herself some potatoes.  "I'm leaving tomorrow to get to help my father on a case."

"Oh,"  Mike ate the piece of meat he had on his fork and then leaned back as he chewed.  "Great.  I can't stand this.  I need you here."

"Why?"

"Oh, I just do."

"No, you know I love the idea of working again.  You really need to have me work, Mike."

"So you want to go back to Daddy and work like before a high powered woman lawyer,"  he raised a glass of wine to his thin lips.  "I know I don't earn enough for you but I want you to stay home and we can make a family someday."

The sound of this idea made a negative impression on Lauren.  She wasn't sure she wanted a family with Mike.  The realization made her gasp slightly.  "I'm sure I can work somewhere near by.  Grainger is not that bad - there are properties where I can get myself an office -

"Stop right there,"  he raised a hand.  "Nobody wants you to work on your own. I can't stand that you could get raped in the office while I'm at work."

"So I'll hire an associate and my office will have a secretary and a legal aide, or some sort of paralegal. I'll be ok."

"Honey, it's too much.  I can't take this sort of discussion."  Yet he ate with gusto and tossed back the rest of the wine.  It was not a happy idea to see her going off to work and coming home when he came home.  "I'm not sure I want a working wife.  If you were to work for some other guy and maybe you could do a part time kind of thing?"

"I can try," Lauren replied with a monotone.  "I'm not really sure I can get a great deal of work done in this area.  I could possibly but I don't know."

"I suppose you could sue that bozo who got into your car's rear end."

"Oh him."

"OH him,"  Mike looked at her with a sly expressoin on his face.  "You didn't tell me his name."

"Oh, it's someone named Linn."

"Linn, huh?"

"Yeah, he is a lawyer too."

"What the hell's he doing in Grainger for God's sake?"  Mike started to raise his voice.  "I'm suspicious of this guy."

"Oh, Mike,"  she sighed.

"Oh yes, I want to know, tell me what about how is he going to pay you for damages?"

"I'll handle it.  He gave me his contact information and insurance."

"I bet he did.  I bet he asked for your number, didn't he?"

Lauren raised her eyebrows in surprise, "Well, it's natural people who get into accidents give each other their contact info, Mike Oates."

He pushed back his plate.  "I've had enough.  Crap on this.  I hate this guy now."

"What's your problem, Mike?"

Mike looked at her with a sharp expressoin in his eyes.  "I'm not happy that today I got some bad asshole from the past to get to me."

"Oh?"  Lauren glanced at the clock on the wall. She needed to pack.

"I'm sure you remember that bastard Ross.  The guy who wanted me to sell my shares of Oates Bank stock to him?"

Lauren would have felt a crawl of dread up her back but she was already thinking of being in Columbus.  "I remember.  So he wants that still?  I doubt he'll get that, judging from your reaction."

"I won't sell to him. He's going to have to face a lot of the law I can sic on him."

"Did you call my father to ask him?"

Mike looked at her with a slight downturn of his mouth.  "I'm not his favorite son-in-law."

"You're the only one, silly man."

"Ok, so you think your Dad can help?"

"I don't see you have anyone who'll do it for you around here, do you?"

"Hell, I hate your attitude."

"Oh Mike. Let's just go to sleep.  I need to get up early."

Mike got up and left the room.  She sat and ate her meal without much ado.  He was getting to her and she was hating him even as she watched his back disappear out of the room behind the door.  Her face was expressionless.  The meal was good, she thought.  It wasn't long before she felt a great heaviness over her shoulders. I am sick of this bastard, she thought. Her father would know what to do, she also knew. Her thoughts drifted to her time with her father and the case they would talk about.  She decided to pack for the week and hoped it would not be all work. She wanted to visit with some old friends. Three years away from Columbus, she thought, and her heart was heavy in Grainger, Tennessee.

Mike went to sleep first.  She saw he was fast asleep when she got up finally from the kitchen's chores.  She went to pack.  Her suitcase was not too heavy andn it had those roller feet. She knew it might be chilly in the morning.  Lauren put together a casual outfit to wear.  Her thought about her car made her wonder if she needed to see how safe it would be to drive the 53 miles to the airport.  But she wasn't caring about that.  It was a good car and it was not that new but it had a low mileage. Her father and her hadn't spoken much in the last few months.  It worried Lauren but she knew it had to do with Mike.  She was going to have to talk to her father about Mike, she realized.

Mike wasn't really sleeping.  He listened to Lauren pack.  Then he remembered his dialogue with Ross earlier that day.  It made his blood boil to think of Ross out of jail and wanting some of his own property.  It also bothered him about this guy who hit Lauren's car.  He didn't even get to look and check out her car.  It wasn't great of him, he knew.  The whole marriage thing wasn't going well, something told him in his thoughts.  He hated himself.  He hated that he wasn't a father yet. He didn't know what they were doing wrong about that.  Lauren was normal and so was he, or was that really true?  Mike kept his mouth pursed as he pretended to be asleep.  Lauren got into bed finally but she faced the other way.  The marriage was getting rockier by the day, Lauren thought as she lay in bed with Mike on the other side of it.

Chapter Five

The next morning, Mike woke up earlier than Lauren.  By a half hour. He was in the bathroom when she awoke and she hated that he beat her to the bathroom.  She could use the spare bedroom's bathroom she knew.  But it was freezing in that bathroom. The heater never seemed to reach that part of the house.  She groaned and turned over trying to sleep again but she knew that Columbus was going to be greeting her in a few hour's time.

She rose from the bed and slipped on her robe.  Her towels and bath things were in their bathroom. She again hated Mike for doing this stupid stunt.  Lauren took to the spare bathroom and started her day there.

Mike spoke little to her that morning.  He was dressed when she was taking her coffee and cereal.  Then she heard him say, "Have a safe trip, Lauren."

"Thanks. I'll tell you when I'll be back home."

"Ok." He barely glanced at her when he took his doctor's white coat in his hand on the way to the garage.

Lauren's car was doing well enough through five o'clock traffic going to Knoxville's airport.  She had the music on.  Her mood lifted higher each minute she neared the airport.  It was as though a bad effect from her home was leaving her slowly and the trail of mist that emanated from her car's exhaust that was due to the cold hitting the warmth reflected the lessening of the heaviness she felt in her muscles.  It was an easy drive and soon she was getting into their long term parking garage.  Her luggage bag was also easy to lift out of the back of the car and her low heels gave her enough balance so that the effort of dragging her luggage was countered and it was all good.

The wait for the plane wasn't too bad.  She bought a magazine and something to snack on during the plane ride.  Her cell was turned off.  Somehow she didn't want anyone to call her.  It might have been that she was thinking of Mike's caution about Randolph Linn.  Her antennae had been turned on when Mike asked about him.  The Ohio connection and the lawyer connection, both which gave Lauren a bit of a turn.  Why it made her decide to stay away from any calls from Linn was something she knew rang true.  There was just too much of a coincidence.

Her plane trip was uneventful. The pilot was as expert as any of them that flew her from every part of the United States while she worked as a lawyer.  Once the plane touched down like a soft feather on the ground, the sparse group of travelers came to life.  People unbuckled their belts noisily.  Someone's child started to chatter as though she was a doll that had a key that turn her on at the first sign of disembarking.  "Mommy, hold my doll.  I need to get my luggage," she said in her little girl voice.

Lauren smiled at hearing this.  She wasn't quite past the age where women worried about biological clocks but this definitely made her a bit scared that she was going to have difficulty getting pregnant.   If only Mike -- she tried to quell that wishful thought.  What was it about Mike that they couldn't get that good anymore after they let him work in Appalachia and they had gotten separated after his case was dismissed?

Lauren finally got to the gate and Marsh was there larger than life.  A man in his sixties, with a soldier's stance and a dark look in his face. He was her father's aide de camp, someone who Jonathan Moore helped in the past from some long ago skirmish with the law and Marsh was forever in Moore's service. "Hello, Miss Lauren,"  Marsh said with some satisfaction.  "Didn't wait too long did I?"

"Well, the flight was smooth as silk.  Let's get out of here, shall we?"

"Good enough.  I'll take your bag.  My, it's not that light."

"I packed for a week's stay."

"I'll say we could use your company for a week.  Here's the way to the car."

They walked briskly through the already crowded terminal and found the right path to the waiting Bentley.

Chapter Six

Columbus looked as though it had a good morning when Marsh drove them home in Jonathan's Jaguar.  Lauren leaned back next to the driver's seat and smiled, perhaps for the first time in a long time. "Ah, I'm feeling at home now, Marsh."

"You are, at home, Lauren."

"I'm not sure that I can feel like getting back on that plane in a few days."

"Don't you worry.  We'll take care of you here.  I've got some plans to serve your favorite meals."

She gave him an appreciative look.

Their voyage through the busy highways and streets of Columbus brought them to Moore's house which was a low lung house that belied a good appointed interior.  Lauren sat comfortably next to Marsh as he drove them to her home in Bexley's posh neighborhood in Columbus, Ohio.  They had a good relationship while Lauren was growing up as a teenager, as Marsh was hired to be their family chauffeur, Jonathan's right hand man and sometime law clerk.  Marsh was, Lauren remembered fondly, a veteran from a war back in the time when he served with the Royal Air Force.  His fierce scowl would scare anyone away.  She knew he scared a few of her boyfriends, incluidng Mike Oates.

"So how is my Dad doing these days?" She asked, her face calm and undisturbed as she surveyed the familiar byways of Columbus.

"Oh, he's ok."  Marsh replied, his voice slow in inflection.  "I think yo ustayed away too long, Miss Lauren."

Lauren tried not to react but she did by saying quickly,  "Oh, I know.  I don't know why - I guess Mike - " She caught herself.  "Mike's been trying to get his practice going and I had to be there."

Marsh looked at her quickly as he navigated a turn.  He realized there was something wrong with the marriage now.  And that Lauren wasn't eager to talk to her father about anything during the early years of th emarraige.  Wonder whether Mike is enjoying her being out of the house, he thought to himself.  "I know he was forced to serve." Marsh said in a curt manner.  He hated Mike and he was glad Lauren was out of that poor, God-forsaken place for a while.

"Oh, Marsh,"  Lauren smiled with a nervous tic to her cheek.  "I'm hoping this will work out for him.  Mike's a - a - a- "  She was going to say "good sort" but it wouldn't come out of her mouth.  "I"m hoping," she sighed out again, "that with time, Mike will be rehabilitated."

"Is he getting that way?"

"I'm hoping, Marsh.  Now I don't want to discuss Mike any more."

"Right."

"I can't stand that, Marsh,"  she said with a slight plaintiveness to her tone.  "I do love Mike.  I hoped you'd accept that."

Marsh had a laugh and it caught her by surprise. "Oh, my."  Marsh said with a nasty undertone.  "Mike is a psychopath.  You should know that, Miss Lauren."

She hated that and kept her silence for a while.  "YOu want me to leave him, is that how you see it, Marsh?"

"I don't care."

"Oh, Marsh!"

They weren't speaking as marsh tooled into the ddriveway where 4669 Rose Avenue came to view.  That was their home.  Marsh said, "I;ll take you r luggage inside.  Mr. Jonathan's in his study as you might texpect."

"Fine."  Lauren said, her face slightly red and her eyes watery.  I can't help it this guy makes it so hard to look at Mike anyway but this, her thought told her.

"I'll be serving you a light lunch in a few minutes.  How do you like a little wine before hand?:  Marsh asked with an offhand voice.'

"It's fine.  Whatever you like,"  Lauren said with a small sniff of her nose.

"I'm sure."  Marsh said with a shrug.  He left her with the luggage by the front door.  Marsh felt sick with himself.  He didn't want to make this child (she wasa no child but he thought of her as one still) in a bad mood when she was there to see her father.  Moore would be havign his bacon later if Lauren would tattle on him, Marsh knew.  Yet, he couldn't but put in his own opinion about this miscarried marriage that Lauren got herself into.  Hate that Mike Oates, he said to himself.  He hauled her luggage and disappeared down the hall.

Lauren closed the front door behind her and tried ot run a hand through her hair but her hand was shaking with emotion.  Her outburst with marsh made her realize that this was a thing she had to get out with her own father.  The whole event of her meeting Mike by chance at a junction in the lower Appalachian Trail made things happen fast.  She told her father then by email that she and Mike were getting married.  Jonathan first had no reply then he called her and wished them a good wedding and married life.  Jonathan sounded cordial enough.  Lauren hated that she told this to him and gave him no chance to talk her out of it.

Now she wasn't sure whether there was any work fo rher to do at his office.  Was this trip to hash through her mistake and her life with mike being that mistake that would affect her forever?  The thoughts warred within her mind as she walked slowly to find her father in his study.

She stepped up tot eh library door and knocked lightly.

"COme in."  Said a deep voice within.

Lauren entered and drew a deep breath.  She saw her father look up from his desk.  He hadn't aged much.  But he looked much sterner.  "Oh, Father, how are you?"

"You stayed away too long, My daughter,"  Jonahtha said with a shake of his head.'
"I don't know I guess I thought you disapproved of our marriage."

Lauren stood unsteadily in th emiddle of the library.

"No, I don't disapprove."  Joanhathn said with a slight smile.  He lifted a pipe to his lips.  "I merely dislike your husband.  You could have come and spent some summers here with us."

"And what would Mike do in the meantime?"

"I don't know he would have come along, I'm thinking."  Jonahthan smiled again, this time with a hidden impish look behind the blandness of his face.  "Oh, let's not argue, shall we? I"m needing you help.  HOw long can you stay here?"'
"I"m here for the week. Is that alright?"'

"Sit down, my dear."

She took a chair near his desk.  Her eyes looked arond  The library seemed to be the same.  All his trophies and gew gaws were still there.  It never seemed to change in her mind.  "Oh, ok, that's fine.  I don't think I will keep you more than a week's time."

"I'm sure Mike won't be missing me too much."

"How IS Mike doing?"  Jonathan asked his grey eyes slanting over to look at her.

"I think he's ok."

"Is he performing well enough at that hospital of his?"

"I think so."

"Do you discuss things about his work?"
"No, not really."

"Any chance you're pregnant?"

Lauren blushed.  "Really Father, that's about enough from your interrogation, please!"

Jonathan surmised she wasn't pregnant from her reply.  "Lauren, I'm only asking because your late mother isn't here to ask.  For her sake, I'm asking you."

"No, I'm not."

They were silent, made adversaries by this exchange.  Lauren felt heat on her neck. She tried to shake it off. "Look, father, I'm tired.  I'ld like to get some rest."

"Of course.  I'll see you sometime later.  Perhaps a late lunch?"

"That's fine."

Chapter Seven

The hospital was quiet when Mike got to his office.  It wasn't an office for his own use, but it was a shared one.  It was merely a piece of luck that he could use it.  He kjnew others used it only to talk on their dictaphones.  He didn't care today. He was going to occupy the office and figure out how to get rid of his old enemy Ross.  But he had other problems that arrived in the form of the nurse, Mrs. Stingay.  She was the nurse whom he spoke to yesterday.  Her face looked pale and drawn.

"Is there something the matter?" MIke asked, unable to find a reason to make her leave.  He could still smell the perfume in her skin when they had a fuck the afternoon before he went to see Ross.

"I'm very sorry, Dr Oates, but I've discovered that I'm unwell."

"What?"

She looked up at him with her eyes filling with tears.  "I just found out that I have gonorrhea."

"What the fuck?" He got out of his chair with the surprise. Gonorrhea.  It made him scared shitless.  He knew he didn't have it. She had it, it looked like.  Why didn't it appear?  He never saw her that close.

Mrs. Stingay said, "I know.  It's a surprise, but we - my hsuband and I - he went with his girlfriend and he got it from her.  And gave it to me. I wanted you to know about it."

Mike almost killed her with his fist. "YOu fucking bitch!"

She drew back. "What?!"

"I'm now stuck with this VD and I'm having to deal with another problem.  I can't stand it.  Get out of here!"

She left him and when she got out of his office, she looked as though her emotions had left her face.  Her body was stil lshaking at the effect of his anger.  She never saw him get this out of line before.  Inside his office, she heard some things being thrown at the wall.

Someone went to her and had heard this commotion. "What's wrong with that piss ant?"  Asked the other nurse.  He was a tall, redhead.  "Did you get hurt?"

"No,"  Mrs Stingay replied.  "I just told him some bad news."

The redhead nurse looked at her.  "What news is that?  IS it about the patient on 304?"

"No, not that."  She shook her head.

"Tell me, I'm raring to find out."  The other nurse was into gossip, and he wanted some dirt on Mike Oates.

She shook her head again.  "No, I'm not able to say."  She pushed him away and hurried down the hallway.

The news of Mike's explosive temper spread throughout the unit.  Some of the nurses quaked when they saw him walk past.  He tried not to do or say anything.  But he had to find someone to give him an exam and a prescription for the gonorrhea that the nurse gave him. There were doctors who were there he could approach.  It made him feel sick to have to ask one of them to give him help.  Then he finally went to one of them and spoke to him in a low voice.  "Hey, Rich, can I ask you for a favor?"

This doctor was reviewing a chart and looked up at him.  Rich Cain wasn't a favorite of the nurses because he was just like Mike Oates, except he was one of the better doctors and so he was respected.  "What's up?"

"I'm needing help.  Can you and I talk later?  Say in the lounge?"

"Ok - ten minutes?"  Rich asked, looking back at his chart.

"Good."

Mike wandered off and tried to ignore the beep of his cellphone.  Ten to one it was Ross.  It was not a good day.  He didn't even call his wife, Lauren, to see if she got in with her flight.

Mike and Rich met at the lounge. There was a woman doctor there who had been using the lavatory.  But she left and both of the men could talk.

"What's going on?"  Rich asked, his intelligent face watching Mike's.

"I need a prescription.  I've gotten in trouble.  YOu know that nurse, Stingay?"

Rich looked at him guessing what he might have gotten into.  "Oh, my God what have you gotten into?"

"I've got gonorrhea.  She came to tell me this today."

"Shit."

"Yeah. I'm in a pile of trouble.  Can you give me an Rx for it?"

"Sure. But I need to examine you."

"Can you do it today? Or later? Soon?"

"Ok, go to one of the rooms where there's nobody there.  Call me and tell me which room.  I'll be in there soon."

Mike and Rich emerged from the empty patient room.  Mike pocketed the prescription and said, "That's good.  Thanks Rich."

"Stay away from these nurses, Mike."  It was all Rich told him.  He left him immediately and disappeared into the crowd of hospital personnel that greeted him at the end of the hallway.

Mike hated having to get a prescription filled.  He had nobody to ask.  He decided that since there was not a lot of work fo rhim to do that he would go to the pharmacy.  He couldn't go to the pharmacy in the hospital.  The whole hospital would know about it.  Even when he walked the corridors of the hospital, he glimpsed some people looking at him speculatively.  It was as though they knew he was in trouble.

He couldn't get out of there fast enough.  He left the building and went to his car.  He sped out of that place like it was filled with hellish ghosts.  Mike was in hot trouble.  First it was Ross.  Now it was the dreaded clap.