Chapter 19

 

            The ocean breezes got a little warmer and tangier, the days a little longer, as spring came to San Diego that year.  Because of Tad's busy schedule, Rick didn't get the opportunity to meet Troya's brother until a Sunday in late April.

 

            The detective wheeled his truck into the circular drive of the thirty room English Tudor mansion that rose three stories in height, and sprawled in all four directions.  He could see flecks of blue beyond the house and heard the swish of waves rolling onto Tad's breach front property.

 

            "Nice little place your brother's got here."

 

            Troya laughed.   "I told you he strives to outdo my father."

 

            And outdo his father Tad had accomplished.  The eight car garage housed a play toy for every day of the week, with one left over for good measure.  Whatever mood struck Tad Brooks, the appropriate vehicle was awaiting him.  There was a chocolate brown four door Mercedes sedan for business, a hunter green Chevy Blazer for ski trips to the mountains of Colorado, twin Harley Davidson Motorcycles that allowed Tad to invite a friend along for a day of cruising the California coast, a black limousine for those nights when taking clients to dinner was a must, a 1953 Riviera Red two seater Ford Thunderbird with white leather interior, a steel blue '65 Ford Mustang in mint condition, and a brand new apple-blossom-pink Porsche with vanity plates that spelled out, TAD'S GRL.

 

            Troya pointed to the Porsche.  "Shawna must be here, too."

 

            "Shawna?"

            "Tad's girlfriend."

            "The way you say that, I get the feeling you don't think much of her."

 

            "Oh...it's not that really.  She's a nice enough person.  Just as empty headed as they come.  But, then, most of the women he sees are."  Troya's tone spoke of a concerned older sister.  "I don't care too much for his tastes in that area.  The majority of the women he's dated couldn't have an original thought without putting themselves in a coma from the effort.  As much as I hate to say this, I suspect my brother's more concerned with their performance in the bedroom than he is with their IQ."  Troya indicated to the Porsche with a wave of her hand.  "Thus, the expensive toys he lavishes them with.  I've always hoped he'd someday outgrow his juvenile tastes and settle down with a woman who possesses some depth, intelligence, ambition, and personality."

 

            Rick leaned over, placing his lips on the doctor's.  "You mean like I’ve done?"

            Troya nibbled at the detective's moustache, her tone heavy with a Scarlet O'Hara accent. "Oh, Mr. Simon, I can hardly believe you ever possessed shallow tastes when it came to your choice of women."

 

            Rick closed his eyes as the couple exchanged a long kiss.  "I don't any more."

 

            When the doctor and Rick finally broke apart, they laughed like guilty teenagers who'd been caught necking in broad daylight.  The detective hopped out of the truck, slamming the door and pocketing his keys.  He walked around to the other side, grabbed Troya by her thin waist, and lifted her down.  They were both dressed casually on this Sunday afternoon, a picnic and swim in the ocean on the agenda set forth by the master of the house.

 

            The couple passed another vehicle parked in the driveway, a gleaming black Corvette with a T-top roof and personalized plates,  KIT'S KAR. 

 

            Troya rang the front bell, not having long to wait before a uniformed maid answered.  Unlike Carmina, there was no easy camaraderie here, though Rick knew Troya to be a frequent visitor in her brother's home. 

 

            "Doctor Yeager," the middle aged Hispanic woman half bowed at the waist,  "Senor Brooks and his guests are on the veranda.  He instructed me to have you join him as soon as you arrived."

 

            Troya offered the woman a kind smile.  "Thank you, Vera."

 

            As though fearful of being caught derelict in her duties, the maid scurried off down a long hallway, leaving Troya to lead the way.  Rick tried not to stare as he passed rooms big enough to be dance halls.  Every one was furnished with only the finest in floor coverings, draperies, furniture, and artwork.  He couldn't even guess what this home was worth, but knew it had to be millions.

 

            Rick caught sight of two other uniformed women working in the kitchen.  He would later discover that Tad Brooks also employed a grounds keeper who doubled as a chauffeur.  The man drove the limo when necessary, while keeping the wide assortment of automobiles cleaned and polished to a brilliant shine. 

 

            By the time Rick and Troya made their way through the wide maze of halls to the concrete patio the size of the average person's back yard, the detective was certain he was going to be out of his league.   He expected to find he had no more in common with Tad Brooks than he did with Tad's father, Lowell, but soon discovered that was not the case.  From the first handshake they exchanged, Rick and Tad formed an amiable friendship.  They shared a passion for motorcycles and boats, and slipped off together to look over the Harleys in Tad's garage.

 

            Rick hunkered down on his knees, studying the chrome and turquoise frame of one of the big machines.  "I bought myself one of these babies three days after I got back from Nam.  My government paycheck didn't afford me one quite this fancy, but man, I loved her.  Over the course of the next year she carried me clear across the country without a single protest."

 

            "What made you get rid of her?"

 

            "I finally settled down on an isolated key south of Miami."  Rick stood, circling the bike with admiration.  "The kinda work I do caused the cycle to be impractical.  As much as I hated to, I sold it."

 

            "What type of work is it you do, Rick?"

 

            Rick smiled inwardly.  Although Tad's question was innocent enough, the detective knew he was being grilled to a certain extent.  That during the course of this conversation with Troya's brother, he'd either pass or flunk the test of acceptance into the family.

 

            "I'm a private investigator."

 

            Tad's eyes lit up at the notion of danger, excitement, fast cars, and exotic women.  "A private investigator?  No kidding?  That's very interesting.  My friend, Kit...you'll meet him in a few minutes, he and his girl are taking a dip in the ocean before we eat.  Anyway, Kit's a police officer with the county sheriff's department.  I bet you and he will have a lot of things in common."

 

            "Could be," Rick smiled.  "Though I'll warn you up front, cops aren't always thrilled with the notion of private citizens being licensed to do jobs the cops feel are better left to them."

 

            Tad gave a thoughtful nod.  "I see where you're coming from.  But, Kit's not like that.  I have a feeling you and he will get along great." 

 

            The blond man opened the door to the Thunderbird, inviting Rick to climb behind the wheel.  "Is your office in the San Diego area?"

 

            "Yeah," Rick eyed the Ford's instrument panel and ran a hand over the soft leather seats.  "Down in the Gas Lamp District."

 

            "Great.  Though in my line of work I don't have reason to make use of a P.I., or at least I never have yet, I do have a number of friends and business acquaintances who might have that need on occasion.  Are you currently taking on new clients?"

            Rick dipped his head as he slipped out of the low-slung Thunderbird.  "Believe me, when it comes to the P.I. business, a guy is always willing to take on new clients.  I'm a little backlogged right now, but I'm hopin' that'll ease up when my brother returns to work."

            "Your brother?"

            "Yeah.  A.J.  We run the business together.  Simon and Simon Investigations.  Troya said you met him."

 

            "I did?"  Tad searched his memory, trying to put a face with the name A.J. Simon. 

 

            "It was a couple of weeks back when you popped in at the hospital and took her to lunch."

            "Oh...oh, yes."  Recognition dawned in Tad's eyes.  "Yes, I did.  The blond man whose session I interrupted.   I'm sorry, I feel like a real idiot.  Troya told me she met you at the rehab center, but I didn't realize your brother was one of her patients."

 

            Rick's answer was a short and succinct, "Yeah, he is," giving Tad Brooks the impression the detective would rather not be pressed for details.  An impression Tad honored.

 

            Conversation between the two men flowed smoothly while Tad allowed Rick the freedom to look over his collection of vehicles.   Before they exited the garage, Tad invited Rick to ride with him on the motorcycles the following Saturday. 

 

            Despite the material possessions Tad Brooks surrounded himself with, he was a pleasant and gracious host, and just as charming as his sister had claimed.  And like Troya had eluded too, as well, his girlfriend Shawna was a big-busted airhead with the face and figure of a fashion model.   Her rounded, clinically enhanced cleavage threatened to burst out of her tight halter-top; her butt cheeks peered from underneath her tiny blue jean shorts.  What exactly she did for a living Rick never did discern, but he got the impression Tad bankrolled her.  He also got the impression Shawna knew her obligations because of it.  She seemed to pick up on the subtle signals her lover broadcast that indicated when she was to be coy, when she was to laugh, when she was to flirt, and when she was to shut up.  Rick could easily see why Troya didn't care of her brother's taste in women if this was an example of what he usually brought home. 

 

            Rick gave a mental shrug while listening to the woman giggle like a nine-year- old at something Tad had said. 

 

            To each his own.

 

            This was the first picnic Rick had ever attended where a maid flipped the hamburgers on the grill.  While lunch was being carried out to the table by the remaining hired help, Tad gave Rick a tour of the grounds.  Shawna clung to Tad's side, rubbing her breasts against his bare arm throughout their stroll.      

 

            The estate's grounds were as green, well tended, and secluded, as the golf course of an elegant country club.   The back lawn sloped gently to the ocean's edge.  Yards of fine bleached sand had been brought in to form a man-made beach. 

 

            Troya waved an arm at the man frolicking in the waves with a bikini-clad woman.  The doctor brushed the hair away that had blown in her eyes and turned to Rick. "That's Kit and his girlfriend Teri.  Kit and Tad have been best friends a long time now.  Going on fifteen years, I suppose.  They met shortly after we graduated college."

 

            Tad cupped his hands around his mouth.   "Hey, Kit!  Come on!  Lunch is almost ready!"

 

            Tad, Shawna and Troya, headed back up the hill to the house.  Rick lingered a moment, enjoying the feel of the salt water that lightly sprayed his face.  It's as he stood there that he saw the struggle ensue.  Kit leaned into his girlfriend, roughly kissing her neck and biting at her throat.  Rick saw his hands claw at the top of her bikini bathing suit, trying to untie the wet strings.

 

            "Kit, don't!  Don't!  Tad has guests!"

 

            "They're not guests, baby, just Troya and her new guy."  Kit bit an earlobe while pawing Teri's heavy breasts.  "Come on, give me a little something to tide me over until we eat."

 

            The woman pushed him away.  "Stop it!"

 

            Tad's friend appeared to enjoy the game he was playing.  Though the couple stood in water over their waist,s Rick could easily guess Kit was trying to pull Teri's bikini bottom down. 

 

            "Kit, stop!"  When the man rammed two fingers inside her the woman cried out in pain.  "Ouch!  Stop it!  You're hurting me!  Stop it, Kit!"

 

            Just when Rick was about to wade into the water and advise the man to heed the lady's words, Kit looked up.  Rick never broke his gaze as Kit tried to stare him down.  The man finally released his captive, splashed water at her in disgust, and began trudging toward shore.

 

            Troya turned around, realizing she'd left Rick behind.  "Rick!   Honey, we're going to eat!"

 

            Rick turned, giving Troya smile.  "Be there in a minute!"

 

            Rick Simon had been on the receiving end of plenty of glares in his day, so the one given him by Tad's best friend as the man passed didn't bother him in the least. 

 

            The detective laughed to himself.   I hate to tell you this, Tad, but I got a feelin' me and your old buddy ain't gonna get along quite as well as you think.

 

            Rick waited until Teri made it safely out of the water, then headed up to join the picnic.

           

________________________________

           

 

            The motorcycles roared down the open road, smoothly banking around sharp curves on the Pacific Coast Highway.  It had been long time since Rick Simon had felt this carefree.  And though he wasn't in any way tempted to shrug off the responsibilities he had to his brother, or to their business, for just a few hours it felt good to leave all the worries behind. 

 

            Riding beside Tad was, in some ways, like riding beside A.J.  Though Tad and Rick didn't know each other well, they already meshed in the same easy way Rick and A.J. did.  They shared amiable conversation and teasing barbs as the wind blew in their faces.   When they stopped for lunch at a roadside diner they lingered over their meal, enjoying each other’s company.  It had been three months since Rick had shared this type of free spirited comradeship with his brother.  He felt a little guilty now that he was sharing it with Tad.

 

            It was after five o'clock when the two men pulled the cycles into their accustomed spots in Tad's garage.  Rick tried to pay for the gas he'd used, but Troya's brother wouldn't entertain that offer anymore than he entertained the offer of money when Rick had attempted to pay for their lunch.

 

            Tad swung a leg over the saddle of his cycle, Rick matching the movement to climb off the one he'd been riding.

 

            "This was a fun afternoon, Rick.  Thanks for coming along."

 

            "Thanks for invitin' me."

 

            "I'm open to doing it again in the near future.  You just name the day."

 

            "Thanks, I'd really like that, though I can't say right now when it'll be.  Between the business and A.J., I'm pretty tied up."

 

            "Hey, maybe A.J. would like to come along.  You think so?"

            "Yeah, probably.  Right now he's grateful for any opportunity that gets him outta that rehab center for a few hours."

 

            "Then you and I'll do that for him next Saturday, no arguments allowed.  And if my sister gives us any hassles over it, I'll dunk her in the ocean, clothes and all, like I used to when we were kids."  Tad indicated to a cabinet with a flick of his thumb.  "I've got a couple of helmets stored in there if you think A.J. should wear one because of his injury.  And if he needs anything else to make the ride more comfortable for him, you just let me know.  Whatever it is, I'll get it before Saturday."

 

            Rick had a difficult time voicing his appreciation.  Tad barely knew A.J., yet he was willing to go to great lengths in order to provide him with a few hours of entertainment.  "Thanks, Tad.  Thanks a lot.  Nothin' special will be necessary, though you're right, he should wear a helmet."

 

            "Fine.  I'll have Vera clean the dust balls out of both of them before Saturday gets here. A.J. can choose whichever one is most comfortable for him.  I'll tell Troya to meet us here later in the afternoon.  Ask your mother to come long. Troy can pick her up.  The five of us can set sail and dine on the Aubrey if the ladies are willing."

 

            The Aubrey was Tad's sixty foot schooner moored at a nearby marina.  Rick had yet to see the boat named in honor of Tad and Troya's mother, but he'd heard she was a magnificent sight to behold.

 

            "I'm sure my mom would enjoy it.  But I don't want you goin' to any trouble."

 

            "It's no trouble.  I don't make use of Aubrey nearly as much as I should.  It'll be a wonderful evening for all concerned."  Tad slapped Rick on the back while walking with the detective to his pickup. "Besides, anyone who makes my sister as happy as you do, deserves whatever I can offer.  I appreciate all you've done for her."

 

            "Believe me, Tad, your sister's done more for me than I could do for her in a million years."

 

            "Don't underestimate yourself.   You've single handedly brought Troya back among the living."  Tad's voice grew thick and full of choked emotion. "She told you about Graham, I assume?"

 

            "Yeah, yeah she did."

 

            "It was a very difficult time for her.  A difficult time for both of us.  And while I've managed to put the tragedy in the past and go forward, to a large degree Troya has been unable to until now.  Until you came into her life."  Rick saw tears shining in the faded blue eyes when Tad looked up.   "After eight long years, she's herself again, Rick.   She's willing to take a chance at love.  She's willing to experience life to its fullest.  To see her smile and hear her laugh the way she was last Sunday...I can't tell you how much that means to me.  I...for many years now, I've blamed myself for all the joy that was taken from her."

 

            "Troya told me what happened," Rick said.  "It wasn't your fault, and she certainly doesn't hold you responsible."

            "I know."  Tad brought a hand up and swiped at his eyes.  "But that knowledge doesn't always make things easier.  I couldn't have been any closer to Graham than if he'd been my brother.  You have a brother.  I'm sure you can put yourself in my place, and imagine the guilt I still carry over his death."

 

            For reason's Tad didn't understand, the detective dropped his gaze.  The blond man had to strain to hear Rick's words.

 

            "Yeah, Tad, I can put myself in your place."

 

________________________________

 

            Mother's Day dawned sunny and warm.  Cecilia Simon relaxed that Sunday morning, curled up in a corner of the couch in her bathrobe sipping at hot coffee.   She was to drive over to the marina at eleven.  From there, she and Rick would pick up A.J., then her sons were taking her to lunch.

 

            Cecilia's mind pondered all that was changing in her family.  Though Rick had yet to voice it in so many words, the woman recognized the deep love that was growing between her oldest son and Troya Yeager.  Admittedly, she was rather surprised at Rick's infatuation.  For years now, she'd had him pegged as a confirmed bachelor, a man who enjoyed coming and going as he pleased without answering to anyone for his whims and ways.  But that wasn't to say Cecilia didn't like Troya.  She did.  Very much in fact.  The two women shared a kinship in their love of gardening. They got along well, and could talk easily on a wide range of subjects.   She found Troya's calm, level headed demeanor the perfect compliment to Rick's temper and fun-loving spirit that often lacked in common sense.  Cecilia also recognized that Rick needed someone special in his life right now.  A woman who made him feel worthy of her love in a way he hadn't felt worthy of that emotion since the accident.

 

            The accident.  It was odd how those two words could have caused Cecilia to lose so much sleep during the past three months.  There wasn't a day that went by that she didn't worry about A.J.  That she didn't wonder what the future held for him.  That she didn't wonder how he would accept it if he was forced to face permanent disabilities.  She and Rick had talked of so many ideas if A.J. was never able to live an independent life again, but they had yet to broach the subject with him.  Troya said it was still to soon to know how far he would come.  Though she'd been cautious when mentioning it, in the past week the doctor had said A.J. might just prove to be one of the lucky ones.  One of the patients she'd worked with who eventually would show no lingering signs of the accident that brought him to her in the first place.  His reading skills were improving greatly, as was his ability to work with numbers.  With Cecilia's help, he had even balanced the business checking account two days earlier.  He'd been so proud of himself.  Cecilia had been forced to turn and wipe a sudden tear away when he told her it felt like he was a small part of Simon and Simon again.

 

            But there were other things that were still stumbling blocks for A.J.   His short term memory and his speech being the two most prominent.  His right arm and hand still caused Cecilia anxiety as well.  He was gaining strength and dexterity in them, but whether he'd ever be able to use them as he once had even Troya couldn't guess.  He relied on his cane less and less, and had begun jogging on the track at the hospital with Rick, though by far the motion of running was awkward and slow.   He'd had better luck with boxing.  Without the aid of his cane for support A.J. had fallen a few times, but it didn't seem to bother him, so Cecilia tried not to let such mishaps worry her.  It was worth it to see him with a pair of boxing gloves on his hands again, and to see the grin of delight on his face that came with them.

 

            It was with all these concerns on her mind Cecilia drove to the marina later that morning.  She found a parking spot a few spaces away from Rick's truck and exited her car.  She headed for Rick's boat, only to see him striding toward her in cutoffs, tennis shoes, and a loud Hawaiian shirt filled with swirls of neon orange, caution sign yellow, parakeet green, and cobalt blue.

 

            "I hope you're not planning on taking me to lunch dressed like that."

 

            Rick smiled as he bent to kiss his mother's cheek.  "Actually, I am."

 

            "Where are we going, to a luau?"

 

            "Not quite."  The detective put his arm around the woman.  They made for quite a contrast with Cecilia in a beige suit with matching pumps, while Rick looked more like he was in the midst of swabbing the deck.  The detective led his mother down the dock. 

 

"Come on."

 

            "Where to?"

            "My boat."

 

            "Why?"

            "Because I have your Mother's Day present there."

 

            "I'd rather wait until we pick up A.J., Rick.  You can give it to me at the restaurant."

 

            "No, I can't."

 

            "Why not?"

            "Mom, you ask too many questions, you know that?"

            Cecilia glared up at her lanky son.  "I ask too many questions because years ago I learned if you're Rick Simon's mother, asking too many questions is a prerequisite to survival."

 

            “You’ve got a point,” Rick a agreed while helping his mother make the step up from the dock to the boat.  He looked aft calling, "Yo, deck hand!  All aboard!  Release the moorings!  We're ready to set sail!"

 

            Cecilia turned, her eyes following the path Rick's had traveled.    She brought a hand up to cover her mouth, gasping with surprised delight.  "A.J.!"                         

 

            Like his older brother, A.J. was in casual attire of cutoff shorts, a blue polo shirt, and tennis shoes.  Cutoff shorts with a zipper and snap, a shirt with three buttons at the chest, and tennis shoes with laces. The hair that had been shaved for the surgery had finally grown to blend in with the rest of A.J.'s hair.  Just the previous day he'd allowed his cousin Karen to give him his first trim since the accident.  The shaggy uneven look he'd been sporting for weeks now was gone, to be replaced by the short style he'd been accustomed to prior to being hurt.  Despite A.J.’s chalky white spindly arms and legs, Cecilia thought he looked wonderful.  For the first time since the accident, she was hopeful that one day soon things would return to how they used to be.

 

            The woman made her way to her youngest with arms outstretched.  "Oh, baby, you look so healthy.  And you're in regular clothes.  Did you get dressed all by yourself?"

 

            A.J. grinned his pleasure at another small step taken that made him feel normal.  "Yes."

 

            "Yep, Mom, he sure did," Rick confirmed from behind the pair.  "Didn't even need my help with the laces on his shoes.  And he's not wearing those baggy boxer shorts anymore either, are you, A.J.  No siree.  He's back to bein' a brief man."

 

            Cecilia laughed at the old familiar glare A.J. threw his brother and the scolding tone of mortification in his voice.  "Kee!"

 

            Cecilia Simon was guided to a deck chair, where she was urged to kick off her shoes and relax while being handed a Pina Colada by the skipper.  With Rick's help, A.J. untied the moorings.  The blond man stood beside his brother while Rick piloted the houseboat out of her slip.  It wasn't until they were miles from shore and away from any other boats that Rick set down anchor.

 

            The most expensive restaurant in San Diego couldn't have beat a day on the ocean with her sons as far as Cecilia was concerned.  A.J. assisted Rick with grilling potatoes and chicken.  Cecilia wasn't allowed to lift a finger.  With great enjoyment she sat back, observing her sons interact in a way that had been missing from their lives for too long now.  They argued over how long the chicken should cook, over how much barbecue sauce should be brushed on each piece, over whether or not the potatoes were done, and it was all music to Cecilia's ears.

 

            The family sat around a table on the deck long after the empty plates had been pushed aside.  Rick stepped into the main cabin of the boat, returning with a small wrapped package. "This is from both of us, Mom.  Happy Mother's Day."

 

            Cecilia smiled with delight when she opened the blue velvet box that contained a thin gold necklace and matching bracelet.  "Oh, boys, you shouldn't have.  This is much too expensive."

 

            Rick half stood, leaning forward on his fists to plant a kiss on his mother's cheek.  "Yes, we should have.  You're worth all that and more.  And speaking of more, A.J. has something he wants to give you."

 

            Cecilia turned to face her blond son.  "Goodness, you boys have done enough

already.  What else could there possibly be?"

 

            A.J. stood, copying his brother's body language.  His lips brushed his mother's cheek, then traveled to her ear.  The words that flowed forth were clear and fluent.  "I love you, Mom."

 

            Tears filled Cecilia's eyes.  She hadn't been called Mom by her youngest son since before the accident.  She wrapped her arms around A.J.'s neck and cried into his chest.

 

            "Oh, honey, that's beautiful.  It sounds wonderful.  It's the best gift anyone has ever given me."

 

            "Kee help-----me."

            Cecilia opened an arm so Rick was included in the hug. She could easily imagine the amount of hours Rick had devoted to assisting his brother in being able to master that simple, yet lovely, phrase.  "I'm sure he did, A.J.  I'm sure he did."                        

 

            After the lunch dishes had been washed and put away, the Simon brothers kicked off their shoes, stripped off their shirts, and jumped into the water.  Cecilia hung over the railing, trying not to let her anxiety rule her.

 

            "Rick, you keep an eye on your brother!  He doesn't have a life jacket on!"

 

            Rick waved a reassuring hand from the water.  "He's fine, Mom!  I'll stick close."

 

            Cecilia watched her sons swim and frolic in the gentle waves.   When she saw A.J. was managing without any problems she relaxed, resting a hip on the ledge of the boat between the railing and the deck, Marlowe laying on his arthritic hunches beside her.  Cecilia was gazing off into the distant blue where the ocean met the sky when she heard Rick's panicked cry of, "A.J.!  A.J., where'd you go?  A.J.!"

 

            "Rick!"  Cecilia shot to her feet.  "Rick, what's wrong!  Rick!"

 

            Rick used his arms to pivot a rapid circle in the water.  "He was right here!  Right here next to me and now he's gon...ah!"

 

            It didn't take Cecilia long to figure out what had happened when her oldest son disappeared under the water.  A.J. broke the surface laughing, while shaking droplets off his face and out of his hair.  Several seconds later, Rick emerged sputtering playful threats while trying to clear his nose and mouth of the ocean he'd swallowed.  He grasped A.J. around the neck, placing a hand on top of his head.

 

            "You think you're funny dunkin' me like that, huh?  You think you're real funny, huh, wise guy?  I'll show you funny!  I'm gonna dunk you until you beg for mercy."

 

            Rick did just that, though was careful to give A.J. plenty of time to fill his lungs with air before pushing his head under the surface of the water again.  Each time A.J. reappeared he was laughing like he was having the time of his life.   "Stop!  Stop, Rick!  Stop!"

 

            "Oh, you want me to stop, do you?  You didn't worry about stoppin' when you thought it would be funny to pull me und--" Rick's playful tirade came to an abrupt halt.  He spun A.J. around so they were facing each other.

 

            "What'd you say?"

            "I say-------stop."

 

            "No, A.J.  After that.  What'd you call me?"

            Even A.J. hadn't been fully aware that he'd spoken his brother's name correctly for the first time in three months.

 

            "Come on, A.J.  Say it again.  What'd you call me?"

 

            A.J. hesitated while carefully thinking of how Troya had taught him to move his tongue and form his lips.  Up until now, his attempts at trying to say his brother's name had all fallen pitifully short of perfect.  "Ri...Ri...Rick.  I call you-------Rick."

 

            Rick pulled his brother to him in a fierce hug.  He closed his eyes and brought A.J.'s head to his shoulder, his churning legs keeping both of them buoyant in the water.  "That's right.  You called me Rick."  The lanky man looked up at the boat to see tears flowing down his mother's face.  "And you know what?"

 

            Within his confined position A.J. shook his head.  "No. What?"

 

            "It's about the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me.  Whatta ya' think about that?"

 

            A.J. pulled away just enough to meet his brother's eyes.  "I been-----want to say it--------lon time now."

            Rick enveloped A.J. in another hug.  He didn't attempt to hide the tears streaming

down his own face.

 

            "I know you have, kid.  God, do I know you have."

 

Chapter 20

 

            Lowell Brooks charged the net.  He slammed the speeding yellow bullet in the opposite direction his opponent was traveling.  The man swiveled, racing across the court, but was forced to throw his arms up in defeat while watching the ball bounce eight feet in front of him.                  

 

            Lowell was waiting at the net when his panting opponent, a man fifteen years younger than himself, jogged over.  They shook hands, then trotted toward the sidelines where a cold thermos of ice water awaited them.  Lowell plucked a white towel from the sports bag Carmina had packed for him that morning.  He patted his face and neck dry before draping the towel around his shoulders.  His winded friend handed him a cup of water.

 

            "Lowell...." the man panted, "you're bound...and determined...to give me a heart attack yet...aren't you."

            "Oh no, I'm not looking to give you a heart attack, Malcolm."  Lowell took a sip of water, "I just enjoy whipping your ass every week.  Makes me feel young again."

 

            Malcolm gulped at his own cup of water.  "Wish you'd find...someone else's ass...to whip."

 

            Lowell draped a solicitous arm around the man's shoulders.  "We've been doing this too long for me to break in a new singles partner now."

 

            "Rumor has it you killed your last one on the court."

 

            Lowell raised his cup in a gesture of a toast.  "Don't believe everything you hear."

 

            The men tossed their empty cups in a nearby trash barrel.  They bent to gather up their things, then walked together toward the posh country club's locker room. 

 

            "Speaking of things I heard, a client of yours came by my office the other day."

 

            Lowell arched an eyebrow at his long-time attorney.  "A client of mine?  And who might that have been?"

 

            "Rich Marlowe."

 

            "Rich Marlowe?"  Lowell took a corner of his towel and dabbed at the sweat trickling down his face, using the pause in conversation to think.  He knew he had no client by the name of Rich Marlowe, and was just about to say so, when he heard his daughter's voice in the back of his mind. 

 

            We need to make our leave, Dad.  Rick has to get home and check on Marlowe.

 

            At first, Lowell had assumed Marlowe was Rick's son and said as much, which made Troya laugh. 

 

            "No, Marlowe's not a boy, Daddy.  He's a dog.  Rick's big old friendly dog that I swear is part St. Bernard, and part teddy bear.  He's probably about ready to be let out for his final walk of the evening."

 

            Lowell thought further, recalling that Simon hadn't overheard this exchange.  He'd been in the kitchen saying good night to Carmina, and thanking her for the dessert she'd served.

 

            "Uh, say, Malcolm.  What did this Mr. Marlowe look like?"                  

 

             "Tall guy.  Thin, balding, dark moustache.  You do know him, don't you?"

 

            "Yes.   Yes I know him.  What did he want?"

 

            "Said he was thinking of dealing with you regarding the sale of the coroner's building.  Wanted to consult with an attorney before going any further.   At first I thought you'd sent him to me, but he said no.  Apparently, it was quite by coincidence that he came to me seeking legal counsel.  I explained to Mr. Marlowe that I was your lawyer and had been for many years, therefore, it would be a conflict of interest for me to get involved with his business dealings."

 

            "I see.  And what did Mr. Marlowe say to that?"

            "He was fine with it.  He asked me a few questions about you, then left."

            "A few questions?  What kind of questions?"

            "Just the typical.  What type of man you are, if I found you to be fair, things of that nature."  Malcolm patted the wet spot between Lowell's shoulder blades.  "Don't worry, old friend.  I gave you a glowing recommendation."

 

            Preoccupation settled over Lowell Brooks as the two men entered the locker room.  Malcolm turned when he realized his companion wasn't following him. 

 

            "Aren't you going to join me for a rub down?"

            "No.  No, not today.  I have several things on my agenda that require immediate attention."

 

            The attorney shrugged his shoulders at this unusual turn of events.  "See you Friday morning then."

            "Yes, I’ll see you on Friday.  And Malcolm?"

            "Yes?"

            "Thank you for the recommendation.  I'm sure you put Mr. Marlowe's mind at ease."

 

            "Marlowe's an important client?"

 

            "Let's just say more important than I previously thought."

 

            Lowell Brooks hurried through his shower.  He bypassed the nine holes of golf he'd planned to play, to instead head straight for his home.  Carmina looked up from her dusting when he stomped past her.