AND THE ANGEL WORE A COWBOY HAT

 

 

By:  Kenda

 

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

 

*What the heck is goin' on?  Oh, no.  I'm on one of them weird trips again, aren't I?  One of them trips that seems real when it's happening, but always turns out to be a dream.  Or at least that's what Mom and A.J. are always tryin' to convince me of.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

 

* ‘Rick’s weird trips that always turn out to be dreams,’ refers to several alternate universe stories I’ve written including Ashes To Ashes And Dust To Dust, as well as, California Dreamin.’  So, is Rick dreaming, or does he occasionally travel to an alternate universe?  And The Angel Wore A Cowboy Hat is based on that question.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

     "Ricky. . .Ricky!  Ricky!”

 

     Rick Simon groaned.  He didn't appreciate being so rudely, not to mention so loudly, hailed this early in the morning.  Especially not when he was hung-over.

 

     Without opening his eyes, Rick turned away from the persistent voice calling his name.  He burrowed into his brother's den sofa cushions like a mole, hiding his face in the dark space where the back of the couch met the seat. 

 

     "Ricky!  Ricky, come on.  I’m not going to call you again!  Breakfast is ready."

 

     Rick's grumbled reply was muffled from where his mouth was buried in a plush cushion. 

 

"Don' wan any breakfast!  Juz leave me 'lone, will ya', A.J.?  I'm tired, and I feel like shit."

 

     "Ricky!  Ricky, that's it now!  I mean business!"

 

     Rick's disheveled head emerged from its hiding place, his thinning hair sprung up in wispy tuffs. Through bloodshot eyes he peered over the arm of the couch.  A.J. stood sternly at the French doors in the living room, his back to Rick.

 

     "Would you keep it down?"  Rick growled.  "I already told ya' I don't want any breakfast.  And what is it with you callin' me Ricky this morning?  You haven't called me that since you were four years old."

 

     A.J. didn't turn around.  He didn't acknowledge his brother in any way, but rather remained standing where he was, staring intently out the doors.

 

     Rick watched as A.J. held the screen wide open as though he was going to let someone in the house. 

 

     Rick pushed himself up on his arms, balancing precariously on the unstable cushions like a trained seal.   A.J.?  A.J., what's goin' on?  What are ya' doin'?"

     A.J.'s total lack of acknowledgment began to unnerve the older man.  For some eerie reason, he got the impression A.J. wasn't ignoring him, but rather A.J. actually wasn't hearing him.  But that was foolish, wasn't it?  Of course A.J. could hear him.  He was only standing across the room from Rick. 

 

     "A.J.?"  Despite the throbbing in his head, Rick's voice grew louder and more insistent.  "A.J.!  A.J.!  A.J., knock it off!   Whatever you're up to it isn't funny.  If you're tryin' to make a point here then you've made it.  You're right, I shouldn't have gone out last night with Carlos.  You told me we had to get an early start today.  Meet Darnstorf at the crack of dawn.  I blew it.  I'm sorry, I blew it."

 

     With a groan, Rick swung his body around until he was in a seated position.  Despite the jackhammer battering concrete in his head, he started to push his butt off the couch.  He was determined to put an end to A.J.'s little game, even if it meant picking his brother up and dunking him head first in the canal.  

 

     "Man, are you gonna be sorry when I get through with you," Rick vowed.  He struggled to stand on teetering legs that weren't quite past the effects of an all-nighter with Carlos.    I’ll teach you to wake up a man with a hang..."

 

      Rick sagged back against the couch, mouth agape.  "Over."

 

     For in through the wide open door, skipped a little girl who looked to be six or seven years old.  Her chestnut hair was pulled up in a ponytail that hung neatly from the middle of her head, and came to a stop somewhere in the vicinity of her shoulder blades.  A tiny pair of Levi's blue jeans hugged her thin form.  A pale blue polo shirt completed her outfit.   

 

     She gave A.J. a wave as she tried to scurry past him.  "Hi, Daddy."

 

     "Daddy?"  Rick whispered.

 

     A.J.'s hands rested on his hips.  His stern tone made the little girl stop and rethink her original plan of a hasty retreat to her bedroom.  

 

"Where have you been, young lady?"

     With all the honesty a young child possesses, the little imp didn't hesitate to confess,  "Playing in the canal."

 

     A.J. bent down on one knee to remove the little girl's soaking wet tennis shoes and socks.   "I can see that."  The child steadied herself by wrapping her arms around the blond man's neck.  "Didn't you hear me calling you?"

     Two huge eyes innocently cast themselves upon A.J.  "No, Daddy, I didn't."

 

     "Oh, you didn't, did you?  And your sudden loss of hearing wouldn't have anything to do with the math paper that's supposed to be complete that I found unfinished under your pillow, would it?"

 

     The child swallowed hard.  No matter what was going on, what kind of a practical joke A.J. was pulling on him, or what kind of lesson he was trying to teach him, Rick found the scene playing out before him greatly amusing.  For some odd reason, A.J. suddenly reminded Rick of their father.  And the little girl standing so contritely before his brother reminded Rick of himself at the same age.

 

     The child wrinkled her nose.  That endearing expression was familiar in a nagging sort of way. And her eyes – they were familiar, too.  Their color was as clear and bright as the summer sky. 

 

     She looks...she kinda looks like A.J.!  And like someone else I know, too.   But who the heck is it?

 

     Rick studied the waif's features.  She was a beautiful child with long slender arms and legs, and a heart shaped face.  Even at such a tender age Rick could tell this lithe colt was a Thoroughbred in the making.  

 

     "Oh, Dad," the little girl scoffed,  "you know how much I hate math."

 

     "That may be true, but obviously you lied to Mommy and me last night when we asked you if all your homework was done."

 

     "You didn't ask if all my homework was done.  You and Mommy only asked if my homework was done.  If you'd said all, I would have known you meant everything.  When I said yes, I just meant the homework I had worked on was done.  I didn't mean--"

     "Okay, okay.  Enough."  A.J. commanded of his barefoot daughter.  "You can argue the finer points of your case with your mother.  She's the attorney.  Right now we need to put dry socks and shoes on these feet."  The little girl giggled as A.J. ran a ticklish finger over the bottom of one pink foot. "And then you need to eat your breakfast.  You can do that math paper in the car on the way to school."

 

     The child rolled her eyes and flirted with her handsome father, planting a kiss on his clean-shaven cheek.  "Oh, Daaaaaady."

 

     A.J. disengaged her small hands from around his neck.  "Don't 'Oh, Daddy,' me.  I know your tricks, Rickie Cecilia."

 

     It was then that Rick Simon was brought back to reality.  Or at least what he perceived to be reality.  He had been so caught up in the whimsical scene that for just a few moments, he forgot that it couldn't really be happening. 

 

     Rickie Cecilia!  He just called that little girl Rickie Cecilia.  And she's calling him Daddy!   What the...

 

     The dumbfounded Rick pushed himself off the couch.  The little girl whizzed by him, brushing so close he could smell the fresh scent of baby shampoo in her glossy hair.

 

     A.J. trailed along behind his daughter, her wet shoes and socks in hand, intent on seeing his instructions carried out.  He knew his Rickie could easily be sidetracked.  Especially when her ultimate destination was her first grade classroom.

 

     Rick stepped in front of his brother, blocking his path. 

 

"Okay, A.J.  The joke's up.  The kid's cute and all, but who does she really belong to?"

 

     When Rick realized A.J. was going to plow him right over he jumped aside.  "A.J., knock it off!  This isn't funny any more.  If you're tryin' to give me the message that you're pissed 'cause I came home tanked to the gills at three o'clock this morning, then just tell me that."

 

      Rick reached out and snared his brother by the arm.  Although the well-muscled appendage felt as solid to Rick as it always did, A.J. didn't seem to feel his touch.  And although Rick's grip was firm, even bruising in its intensity, A.J. kept on walking as though nothing hindered his path.  Rick's hand fell to his side.  He lifted it, studying both front and back. 

 

     What the heck is goin' on?  Oh, no.  I'm on one of them weird trips again, aren't I?  One of them trips that seems real when it's happening, but always turns out to be a dream.  Or at least that's what Mom and A.J. are always tryin' to convince me of.

 

     Rick heaved a sigh. 

 

Oh well.  I guess I don't have any choice but to see where my travels take me.  Somehow, I always end up back in the right place, or right time zone, or right dimension, or however a guy would refer to it.  But always before, everyone I encountered could see me.  They always knew who I was and seemed to think I was part of their world.  This time it's obvious neither A.J. nor his...daughter, are aware I'm here.     

 

     Rick took a moment to get his bearings.  Now that A.J. and the little girl weren’t present to provide distractions, Rick noticed all that was different about the familiar rooms.  He was indeed, still in A.J.'s house on the Grand Canal, but there were changes here and there.  No longer did the house have a strictly masculine air about it.  The sedate beige carpet A.J. preferred that ran from the living room through the dining area and on into the den, was now a deep shade of forest green.  The furniture in the living room was new.  Or at least new to Rick.  It was considerably more formal than the overstuffed chairs and couch that once sat there.  Rick thought the style was what he'd heard referred to as French Provincial.  Rick just referred to it as ‘damn uncomfortable.’  Not the kind of furniture a man could feel at home on while watching a football game and tossing back a few beers.  The chairs were two shades lighter than the carpet, the upholstery on the couch was multi-patterned in all colors of greens and pinks.  A swag valance that matched the couch hung from the sill above the French doors.  Forest green blinds were drawn back from the big glass doors allowing the morning sun to spill in.  A big silk spray of flowers in pinks and greens was arranged in a basket and sitting in the middle of the coffee table.  Another basket of flowers in the same colors sat on the stone hearth of the fireplace. 

 

     The dining room table was the one Rick was familiar with, though green quilted mats and cloth napkins sat permanently at each place, once again lending a more formal air to A.J.'s house.  Gone was the brass kettle A.J. used as a centerpiece, replaced by a cut-glass crystal bowl that Rick guessed was worth several hundred dollars.

 

     The den furniture was slightly different from what Rick was used to seeing there, but not overly so.  The couch and chair were upholstered in neutral beiges with just a hint of green here and there to stay with the color scheme.  Unlike in the living room, these two pieces of furniture looked comfortable and well-used. 

 

     Kid proof, Rick thought with an ironic grin.

 

     A wooden rocking chair with a wide seat sat in the far corner.  Rick slowly approached it.  He hesitated before reaching out two fingers and pushing them against a wooden arm.  The chair slowly swayed back and forth.

 

     This is the same chair Mom used to rock A.J. and me in.  Or an exact replica of it rather.  I never remember it bein' anywhere but in her and Dad's bedroom in my world.  Did she give it to A.J...this A.J., when Rickie was born?  When A.J...my A.J., was a baby, I used to climb up in this old chair with her as she fed and rocked him.  No matter how tight a fit, she always made room for me.  I wonder if I ever told her how special those times were to me?  How, without any of us being aware of it, those times helped form the bond that would tie A.J. and me together for the rest of our lives.     

 

     Rick finally tore his eyes away from the chair that held so many precious memories.  He continued his inventory of the room.  A.J.'s gun cabinet was missing, as was the familiar shelving unit.  In its place sat a home entertainment center.  Most of the videos that lined its shelves were Disney classics and Warner Brothers cartoons, indicating to visitors a child was a much-loved part of this household.       

 

     Rick couldn't resist lifting the lid of the wooden chest that served as a coffee table in the den.  It was the same wooden chest Rick was familiar with from what he thought of as 'his' world.  But rather than it being filled with A.J.'s favorite books and magazines, this chest was filled with toys.  Trucks, and balls, and hand held electronic games, and G.I. Joes, and Ninja Turtles.  Rick rummaged through it looking for Barbie dolls, or makeup kits, or plastic jewelry, but didn't come across any such feminine items.  He wondered then if there was another child somewhere in the house, a boy, but then he remembered the precocious little Rickie in her worn sneakers and Levi's jeans, and the polo shirt that looked more like a little boy's than a little girl's.

 

     A tomboy no doubt.

 

     Rick quietly closed the chest's lid.  He straightened and looked into the kitchen.  It was the one room on the main floor that had gone through the least transition.  Except for the wallpaper the room was unchanged.  That didn't bother Rick too much.  He had never liked A.J.'s kitchen wallpaper anyway.  This pattern was homier, and once again picked up the green tones that prevailed throughout the rest of the downstairs.  But it also included blues and pinks and beiges, and depicted hens setting in baskets of eggs.  It lent a cozy, country air to the kitchen, that Rick found satisfying. 

 

     He placed his hands on his hips and surveyed the rooms surrounding him one last time.

 

     Other than that God-awful uncomfortable lookin' living room furniture, I like it, kid.  It's warm, and friendly, and somehow conveys that this is a home full of a lotta love.  And speaking of love, I wonder who your decorator is?

 

     Before Rick had a chance to ponder that thought any further, running footsteps pounded down the stairs.

 

     Rickie giggled as she ran for all she was worth.  "Last one there's a rotten egg!"

 

     Rick smiled at the sight of the little girl racing by him, her ponytail flying out behind her.  His grin broadened as A.J. followed at her heels, the blond's necktie imitating his daughter's hair.

 

     Right before Rickie reached the kitchen A.J. swooped her up in his arms.  "You're not going to beat me this time!  This time you're the one who's stuck being the rotten egg."

 

     Rickie squealed with laughter as her dad's fingers gently raked over sensitive ribs.

 

     "No fair, Dad!  You picked me up and you're tickling besides!"  Ricky arched her back, squirming and squealing.  "It's not fair if you have to cheat to win!"

 

     Rick watched the father and his daughter playfully scuffle until A.J. put an end to their fun by carrying Rickie over to her seat at the breakfast table.

 

     I always knew you'd make a helluva daddy someday, kid.

 

     It took Rickie a few minutes to settle down and start eating.  Again, his brother reminded Rick of their father as A.J. had to alternately admonish the child to quit dawdling, to sit up straight, and to move her juice glass away from her elbow. 

 

     Sounds like you've got this parenting business down pat, little brother.  Or at least in this world you do.  Wherever this world may be, that is.

 

     Rick walked over and parked his lanky frame on a stool at the snack bar.  It was strange to be sitting there like that and longing to be so much a part of what was happening.  To be so much a part of A.J.'s life, and the life of this little girl his brother called Rickie.

 

     It was that longing that prompted Rick to try one more time.  "A.J.?"  He questioned. 

 

     A.J. and Rickie went on talking about their upcoming day as if no one had spoken. 

 

     "A.J.!"

 

     Again no response to Rick's louder beckoning.

 

     Rick took a deep breath.  As he expelled it he roared,  "Aaaay Jaaay!"

 

     A.J. didn't even blink, let alone so much as glance in Rick's direction.  Instead, he rose from the table and began gathering up the dishes.  "Put your glass and bowl in the dishwasher, Rickie, then run up and get your backpack.  We're going to leave in five minutes."

 

     Rickie stood and did as she was instructed.  "Okay, Dad."      

 

     Well, if this is some kind of an elaborate joke my brother's playin' on me, then him and that little girl are two of the best actors I've ever run across. 

     By the time A.J. had the dishwasher cycling Rickie had returned to his side.  The blond man gathered up his wallet, car keys, and sport coat from the kitchen counter top.  "Do you have your math paper and a pencil?"

 

     Rickie sighed.  "Yes."

 

     A.J.'s blue eyes twinkled.  "Thought I forgot, didn't you?"

 

     The little girl's eyes matched her dad's as she looked up at him.  "I was hoping."

 

     A.J. chuckled while opening the kitchen door.  "Let's get a move on then.  Don't forget, Grandma's going to pick you up after school, so wait for her out front.  Mom's going to be in court all day. It’ll be after five o'clock before one of us is able to get you."

 

     "I know.  Mom already told me that before she left for work.  Maybe Grandma can bring me by your office and I can just stay there until you're ready to come home.  Or I can work on a case with you."

 

     A.J. shook his head with regret.     "I don't think so, slugger.  Last time you ended up 'working' on a case with me we were both in hot water with your mother."

 

     "But it was just a stake-out.  I told Mom it was perfectly safe.  That nothing happened."

 

     A.J. chuckled.  "I know.  I told Mom that, too.  Let's just say she wasn't very understanding about the situation and leave it at that."

 

     "But I wanna be a private investigator like you, Dad.  Like you and Grandpa Myron."

 

     Grandpa Myron!  Grandpa Myron!  Now I know why she looks so familiar.  She's the spittin' image of Janet with a little bit of A.J. thrown in here and there.

 

     Rick tuned back into the conversation as Rickie went on to plead her case. 

 

     "And how am I gonna do that if Mom won't let me go on stake-outs, and car chases, and shoot-outs, and black bag jobs, and--"

 

     A.J. put a hand on his daughter's back and ushered her out the door.  "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, Rickie.  For the time being, we need to concentrate on getting you out of the first grade.  That in itself will please your mother to no end."    

 

     The rest of the conversation was lost on Rick as the kitchen door was closed and locked. 

 

     Grandpa Myron, huh?  Boy, A.J., I'm glad it's you and not me.  Rickie's a heck of a cute kid, but jeez, Myron as a father-in-law?  No thank you.

 

 

S&S     S&S     S&S     S&S     S&S     S&S

 

 

     It was a strange day to say the least, even by Rick Simon's unorthodox standards.  He found that simply by thinking of a person, simply by desiring to be a certain place, he was somehow transported there without any conscious movement on his part.

 

     Just like a ghost. 

 

     Time seemed to have no relevance for Rick either.  The day seemed to pass in the blink of an eye.

 

     Kinda like how you hear Heaven described.

 

     Rick's curiosity got the best of him after A.J. and Rickie had left.   He set out to learn as much about this new universe he suddenly found himself in, starting with the second level of A.J.'s house.

 

     Like the downstairs, some aspects of the upstairs rooms were hauntingly familiar while others were completely new.  Rickie's room, of course, being the most changed.  It was the first bedroom at the top of the stairs.  It had been a guest room in the house that was Rick's second home, but now it definitely housed a child.  Oak shelves lined the wall opposite the doorway and were filled with books and stuffed animals.  A large toy chest stood in one corner, an easel in the other complete with paints and markers of every color in its plastic tray.  The tall, sturdy single bed Rickie slept in was what Rick had heard referred to as a Captain's bed, because of the bureau drawers that were built into the bottom of its frame.  Rick smiled at the San Diego Padres bedspread on the bed, and the matching curtains at the windows.   A wallpaper border in antique ivory circled the room depicting men in baggy knickers, circa 1900, playing baseball.  No doubt in 'his' world, Rick and his niece would have been the best of friends.

 

     The bathroom in the hallway possessed no differences from the one Rick was accustomed to showering in when he accidentally allowed the Hole In The Water's tanks to run empty.  And just like in Rick's own universe, there was another smaller guest room at the end of the hall, though more often than not A.J. used it for a home office. 

 

     Rick stepped into the vacant room.  Gone was the double bed that normally sat under the window.  Missing as well was the desk and computer that took up most of one wall. 

 

     Mmmm, wonder what's goin' on in here?

 

     The pale blue walls were bright and clean, and smelled of fresh paint.  A white crib sat folded up in one corner, as did a baby's changing table.

 

     I bet this was the nursery and they're redecorating it.  Getting rid of the baby stuff.  I guess if Rickie's in...what did A.J. say, first grade?  I suppose that makes her six goin' on seven.  Maybe he and Janet figure if they haven't had any more kids by now they never will.  Or maybe they don't want any more.  I suppose if Janet's workin' for the D.A. in this world, too, she's pretty busy.  Probably doesn't have time for more than one kid.  And she probably needs a home office.  That must be what they're gonna use this room for.

 

     Rick moved out of the room and continued his tour.  It didn't surprise him to see the master bedroom and bath had undergone a complete transformation.  They looked decidedly more feminine. 

 

     Guess a wife will do that to ya.’

 

     The bedspread was ivory with lace, and ruffles, and throw pillows, and pink roses.  Curtains to match hung at the French doors.  The carpeting was pale pink and ran into the bathroom.  Rick easily guessed pink was the dominate color in there, as well. 

 

     For just a moment Rick hesitated.  It was one thing to walk unheeded into A.J.'s bedroom, but quite another to walk unheeded into A.J. and Janet's bedroom.

 

     Rick chuckled to himself.  What the heck.  What harm can it do?  It's not like anyone's gonna see me.  Besides, it might give me some clues as to why I'm here.  Or at least explain to me what's goin' on.

 

     Ironically enough, the first thing Rick spotted was a picture of himself resting on a nightstand.  He recalled A.J. snapping it nineteen years earlier, in the summer of '67.  It was the last summer Rick had been home before going off to boot camp.  He stood leaning back against his motorcycle, his long legs crossed at the ankles.  He wore a field jacket similar to the kind he favored yet today, and the cowboy hat he'd won in a poker game in Mazula, Montana was perched on his head.  Between the hat and the angle the picture was taken, prevented an outside observer from realizing Rick was also sporting a ponytail that hung halfway down his back.  The United States Marine Corps took care of that for him less then two months afterwards.

 

     The nightstand on the other side of the bed held a recent picture of A.J., Janet, and Rickie.  Rick picked it up and studied it.  This Janet looked the same as the Janet Rick was familiar with.

 

     She's as beautiful as ever.  This is weird.  In my universe A.J. and Janet broke their engagement seven years ago.  Back in Florida in 1979.   But somehow, in this universe, she and A.J. ended up gettin' married.  I wonder what's different?  I wonder how come it all worked out this time?

 

     With a shrug Rick replaced the picture.  He poked his nose in the closet, then opened the dresser drawers one by one.  He chuckled when he came to Janet's lingerie.  Every piece was satin and sexy and skimpy, and was no doubt only worn when Rickie was out of the house or in bed asleep.

 

You're a lucky man, A.J. Simon.  Or at least in this universe you are.

 

     Other than confirming that A.J. did indeed, have a wife, Rick's tour of the bedroom unearthed no clues.  He stopped in the hallway on his way to the stairs and eyed a large grouping of pictures.  A number were familiar to him, those that depicted he and A.J. together as boys or the ones that included the two of them along with their parents.  As well, there were pictures of Janet throughout her girlhood years including a family portrait shot one month before her mother was diagnosed with incurable cancer.  Then a picture of an adorable bright-eyed baby girl that could only be Rickie, and more pictures that charted Rickie's growth to the present.  Rick smiled when he saw a recent photo of his mother with her granddaughter.  Cecilia Simon was as beautiful and ageless as ever.  Or so her proud son thought.  There was no doubt by the way Cecilia and Rickie were posed, grinning cheek to cheek for the camera, that grandmother and granddaughter took great delight in one another.

 

     Rick poked around downstairs, but came up with no more clues about himself or what his role was in this particular world, or even where he...or his counterpart that is, might be.  By the pictures he had seen upstairs, and the fact Rickie was evidently his counterpart's namesake, this world's Rick obviously was an important part of A.J.'s life.  Evidently the brothers were as close in this universe as they were in their own. 

 

     Maybe he travels like Uncle Ray.  That's probably it.  If 'Nam hadn't changed me - my life the way it did - I bet that's what I'd be doin' today in my own world.  Though I'll never admit it to A.J., I'm glad I'm not bummin' around the globe, 'cause if I was then there never woulda' been a Simon and Simon Investigations. 

 

     Rick perused through kitchen drawers, thinking he might run across a letter from his alternate self to his brother's family, but didn't come up with so much as postcard.

 

     Oh well, I never was much of one to write anyway. Guess the ‘other Rick’ isn’t big on letter writing either.

 

     Rick stepped out on the deck and took a gander at the side yard.  Just as he suspected would be the case, the Hole In The Water was absent.  A swingset, wooden play fort, and fiberglass jungle gym sat in the boat's usual spot.

 

     Mmmm, I wonder if the Hole In The Water doesn't exist, or if this Rick managed to do what I never have and made her seaworthy?  Maybe he's off sailin' somewhere.       

 

     A stack of photo albums on a closet shelf did bring Rick to the conclusion that just like in 'his' world, A.J. met Janet in Florida back in the mid-seventies.  Almost an entire album was devoted to their courtship, and Rick recognized Grandpa Simon's house on Pirates Key in a number of the pictures.   Other pictures showed a young A.J. working in the Peerless Detective office in Miami, bringing Rick to the conclusion that many of the events that took place in this universe were again, similar to the events in his own.

 

     The lanky man shifted his weight in one of the delicate living room chairs as he turned another page in the album. 

 

     This is strange.  And yet it's just like the other times I found myself in these parallel worlds or whatever they are.  Things are the same, yet subtly different.  In so many ways, A.J.'s life in this world isn't unlike his life in my world, yet in some ways it's drastically different.  Especially when it comes to Janet and Rickie.

 

     Mmmm.  I wonder why I'm not...or he...the other Rick's - not in any of the photographs taken on the Key?  I know we've got lots of them at home...in 'my' world, that have both me and A.J. in 'em, and a good number with Janet in 'em, too.  And even Marlowe.  And speaking of Marlowe, I wonder where he is?  Maybe poor old Marlowe doesn't exist in this world...or maybe he's with me, wherever the heck it is I am.  Or wherever the heck it is my counterpart's at, that is.  Boy, this time travelin' can really get a guy confused.  The next time A.J. complains about crossing time zones on an airplane, I'll have to tell him about this.

 

     Rick didn't think too much of it one way or another when he didn't run across any pictures of his counterpart in the photo albums, though he did find it a little odd that there wasn't one picture of the man with Rickie. 

 

     You'd think he woulda' had his picture taken with his niece a time or two.  But, then again, if he's travelin' like Uncle Ray does, maybe he doesn't get home much.  A.J. was a couple years old before Ray saw him for the first time.

 

     Rick returned the albums to the closet shelf.  He walked into the den and sank down on the sofa.  He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.  It was then, as he was thinking of A.J., that he suddenly found himself standing upright in the Peerless office.  Not the Peerless office in Miami, but rather the office Myron had opened in San Diego in 1979.  The office that was across the street from the first office Rick and A.J. had rented upon opening Simon and Simon Investigations. 

 

     Just like A.J. and Rickie had been that morning, the Peerless employees were oblivious to Rick's presence.  He moved about, freely enjoying this new form of eavesdropping.  His wanderings brought him to Myron's office.  Or what Rick had once known as Myron's office.  The nameplate on the door announced another man had taken up residence therein.

 

     A.J.'s office? 

 

     Rick stood in the doorway and listened as A.J. reviewed a case with one of the Peerless employees.  A secretary kept interrupting the two men, her constant inquires of A.J. quickly leading Rick to the conclusion that his younger brother was the man in charge here.

 

     He must run the whole show.  I guess I shouldn't find that to be so hard to believe.  After all, that's what Myron wanted him to do - come out here and run the San Diego office he was gonna open.  And A.J. probably woulda' done it, too, if it hadn't been for me.  If he hadn't been so bent on seeing me and him go into business together.

 

     Myron Fowler appeared on the scene not long thereafter.  He was still the same out-spoken, cigar smoking, crusty P.I. Rick loved to hate.  It didn't take Rick long to figure out that Myron was nothing more than a figurehead in the Peerless office now.  In Rick's own world, Myron had sold the office the previous year and retired to a small town north of Miami.  Evidently in this world he still owned the business, but it was run by his son-in-law, A.J. Simon.  Coincidentally enough, it was the running of the business that prompted Myron's visit that day.

 

     The man parked his bulky frame in a chair across from A.J.'s desk.  "So, kid, you ready to buy me out?"

     A.J. smiled indulgently at his father-in-law.  "I've been ready to buy you out for five years, Myron.  I keep telling you to name your price, but you always get cold feet at the last minute."

 

     "Not this time.  This time I really mean it."  Myron waved his cigar in the air.  "I'm finally gettin' the hang of this retirement stuff, and I'm finding I'm kinda partial to it.  Besides, it's only fair that you have a chance to make some money off this business while you're still young.  You know, have a chance to pack some away for your own retirement.  Now, in my opinion I pay you a damn good salary but--"

 

     Again A.J. smiled.  "Yes, you do."

 

     "I pay you a damn good salary, but on the other hand, you deserve every penny of it.  I know I don't tell you this very often, kid, but you're a helluva P.I.  There's none better.  Except me, that is.  And you're a helluva son-in-law, too.  You make my little girl happy, and that's all I care about.  And you're the father of my precious Rickie.  A man couldn't ask for a more beautiful granddaughter.  So, it's because of all those factors that I've decided it's time I turn the business over to you for good.  Hell, you can even change the name if you want.  Call it Simon and Associates, something like that."

 

     A.J. chuckled.  "I don't think that will be necessary.  Peerless Detectives it's been since you started it back in 1948, and Peerless Detectives it remains.  Or at least until Rickie's old enough to have a say.  When that time comes I think she'll make herself right at home in the office next to mine, and probably make me start calling it something like...oh...Simon and Simon Investigations, or some such thing."   

 

     Myron laughed.  "If that's what my Rickie wants, then that's what my Rickie gets."

 

     "Don't let Janet hear you say that," A.J. cautioned.  "I'm in enough hot water over taking Rickie on that stake-out with me last week after I picked her up from school."

 

     "Janet was pretty mad, huh?"

 

     "To say the least.  I have strict orders that it's not to happen again, which is proving to be no small feat to accomplish.  Your ‘precious granddaughter,’ as you refer to her, was begging me this morning to let her come to the office after school today so she could work on a case with me."

 

     "So what?  She loves it here.  If this is where she wants to be, then this is where she should be."

 

     "I don't necessarily disagree with you, Myron, but Janet does."  A.J.'s eyes twinkled.  "And I don't sleep with you, if you get my drift."

 

     "Oh, I get your drift all right, kid.  Spent a night on the couch because of that little escapade with Rickie last week, huh?"

     "Yes, I certainly did, and I'd rather not do it again any time soon.  Me, and my back, are getting far too old to spend our nights on the sofa."

 

     "I'll tell you what, you invite me over for dinner Friday night so we - you and me and Janet, can discuss the financial details surrounding you buying the business.  While I'm there I'll plead Rickie's case.  Janet shouldn't be so hard-nosed about this.  I know Rickie's only a little girl yet, but she's really got a feel for the P.I. business, A.J.  I can tell."

 

     "She should.  Between you and me she was practically weaned on it."

 

     Myron rolled his cigar between his fingers.  "That she was.  And there's nothing wrong with it either.  I just have to make Janet see that."

 

     "Well, good luck.  I'm open to letting you try.  You know how much I enjoy having my daughter here after school or on Saturday mornings.  But whether or not you can convince your daughter to allow that to continue to happen is another matter altogether."

 

     Myron rose.  “I'll give it my best shot, kid."

 

     A.J. stood as well and walked his father-in-law to the door.  "This ought to be a sight to see.  And to hear.  I'll have to take Rickie out of the room when the yelling starts.  See you on Friday evening, Myron."

 

     "What time?"

 

     "Doesn't matter.  We'll eat at seven.  Come early and play with your granddaughter.  She'll love it."

 

     "You got yourself a deal, kid."

 

     Rick watched Myron leave the office. 

 

     So the old coot's a doting grandfather.  Now that's kinda hard to picture.  And it sounds like he's good to A.J., too.  Fair to 'im.  Even though this ain't really my world, I'm glad of that.  No matter what world it is, A.J.'s a good guy.  He deserves to be treated as such.

 

     Rick spent the remainder of the day drifting in and out of the lives of people he knew back in 'his' universe.  He 'saw' Carlos, Downtown Brown, Jerry Reiner, and Cecilia.  His mother's home had undergone few changes in Rick's time travels other than a couple boxes of toys stashed in closets that indicated she often entertained a young visitor.  Rick literally ‘hung around the house,’ as he thought of it, watching his mother interact with Rickie after she'd pick the child up from school.  Indeed, the two shared a strong bond.  It was obvious that Cecilia Simon loved her youngest son's only child with all the love she possessed, and in turn, Rickie Cecilia loved and cherished her only grandmother.   Watching the two of them together made Rick sad for what his mother didn't have in his own world.

 

     I never realized what a disservice A.J. and I were doing Mom by not marrying and having children.  'Course it's not exactly like we have a whole lot of control over that matter.  I mean, A.J. was serious with Janet, and then later with Liz.  I really thought he and Liz were gonna get hitched before it was all over with.  So did Mom.  Thank God that never happened.

 

     And I guess I've been serious with a couple of women in my day, as well.  I wonder why I've held off poppin' the question?  After all these years am I too set in my ways?  Is A.J. too set in his?  I know the business has us workin' a lot of long, odd hours, which sometimes hampers a relationship.  I wonder how much of that has to do with the two of us not being married yet?  Wow.  This alternate universe stuff really makes a guy think.  And here all this time I thought I was happy with the way things were.  Well, actually I am.  Or at least I was until I got a chance to see the other side.  Maybe this is why we never get to see 'what might have been.’  Correction to that thought - most people never get to see, 'what might have been.’  I seem to get to about once every year or so.

 

     Rick spent the late afternoon and early evening hours thinking of other people and places he wanted to 'see,' and then finding himself somehow transported there.  It wasn't until the sun had set that he once again thought of his brother and the home on the Grand Canal. 

 

     The downstairs was dark and quiet, warmed only by a dim light left on over the kitchen sink. 

 

     Rick followed his brother's voice up the stairs.  He glanced to the left and saw the door to the master bedroom was shut.  Bright light spilled out from underneath the crack, however, and he could hear the comforting sound of water from the shower thumping lightly against the wall.  He looked to his right and saw A.J. reclining against the pillows on Rickie's bed, the pajama clad girl snuggled in the crook of her father's arm.  Her ponytail had been brushed out and her thick brown hair, streaked auburn in places from the sun's gentle kisses, fell to the middle of her back.

 

     Rick leaned against the doorway and listened to the relaxing cadence of A.J.'s voice as he read Rickie her bedtime story.  The blond man slowly closed the book as he finished the last page.

 

     "Another one, Dad.  Read another one please."

 

     A.J. looked down into blue eyes that were twins of his own.  "No, not tonight.  It's getting late."

 

     "Okay, then tell me a story instead."

 

     A.J. chuckled.  "If it's too late for me to read you another story, what makes you think it's not too late for me to tell you one?"