Staines parked in the winding drive and strode across the crushed stone to the big double doors, yanking on a pretentious bell pull. The door opened and a curious woman answered the door.

"Can I help you?"

"Mrs. Braxton?"

"Yes."

"I want to speak to your husband."

"May I ask what-?"

"No. Get your husband."

"Who is it, Shirl?" Peter came to the door and gasped. "You!"

"Yeah, me . . . Peter. I brought a gift for your wife." Stains took out the photo he had produced on his portable printer and handed it to a befuddled Shirley.

She looked at the picture and then at the two men. "Peter?"

"You bastard!" Peter took a step and stopped, shaking.

"Peter, this is you and- and your secretary, Della?"

"Have a nice life, Braxton." Staines stomped back across the drive to his car. Braxton swearing at him and answering his wife at the same time. As he drove off he saw the picture sail out into the drive with Peter scrambling after it and the big door slam leaving him shut out.

********

Syd looked up from his desk as Tony walked into the mail room, his lip flopping with each step.

"Mr. Renesto, what can I do for you . . . I'm not a doctor." Syd chuckled pointing to his own lip.

"No, but you're a smart ass. I'm looking for Harold Pope."

"He isn't in yet," Syd said, standing up from his chair. "Can I give him a message?"

"When's he get in?"

"He should be here shortly."

"I'll wait."

"Not in here I'm afraid. You'll have to come back."

"You know who I am?"

"I certainly do," Syd smiled, taking Tony by the arm and leading him out the door. "Come back in an hour." He shut the door against Tony's protest.

******

Cara woke and was surprised to see Harold snoring softly in the chair. She got up quietly and folded up the bedding, straightening the cushions and then sitting down, looking at him. Some special sense made him stir and his eyes fluttered open then focused on the girl.

"Uh, hi. I thought I felt someone looking at me. You been awake long?"

"Just a few minutes. I didn't hear you come in."

"No, I didn't want to wake you either."

"So . . . ?"

"I kept my promise, Cara. You won't be having any more trouble with Deveraux."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing you need to know about, but now you have to go and this time for good."

"You're angry."

He sighed. "Just with life right now. You have to go, I'm serious and no matter what you hear or read, you know absolutely nothing about me. Understood? You can't ever see me again, Cara."

"But I want to thank you!"

"I don't want your thanks, I don't need your thanks. What I need is for you to leave and forget this part of your life forever. Go and regain your modelling job - you can have a good life, Cara. Just do as I say."

Harold watched from his window as the girl crossed the road, slowly at first and then after a pause on the sidewalk to look back, with a more determined stride. He let the curtain drop, sucked in a huge breath and blew it out, opened his computer and made some changes to his personal finance files then got cleaned up and changed for work.

********

Syd heard Harold arrive and joined him in the locker room.

"Late night, son?"

"You could say."

"I did."

"Yeah, okay. Just some personal business."

"You had a visitor. Anthony Renesto."

Harold looked up. "Yeah? What did he want?"

"You. He'll be here again soon. He wanted to wait but I thought you might want a heads-up first."

"Thanks, Syd. Sorry to mix you up in my life."

"If there's a problem, maybe I can help."

The sound of a garbled, hello stopped their conversation and Syd grinned. "He's ba-a-a-c-k."

Harold walked into the mail room and right away Tony took his arm and muttered, "We need to talk."

"Say what you have to say, Tony."

"Here?"

"Yeah, here. I'm at work, okay?"

He glanced at Syd who went to his desk and sat. "It's about- you know- what we talked about at the diner."

"What about it." Harold folded his arms and closed his eyes.

"If Peter tries to fire me, you'll have my back."

"What are you talking about, I told you what to do?"

"I know. I got rid of the picture file. I even got rid of my account."

"Fine. Then you don't need me and frankly, I don't need any more of you either."

"What about Della? She told Peter it was you in the first place."

Harold walked away shaking his head. "Who cares? It's over so buzz off."

"Hey, you can't talk to me-"

The street door banged open and Staines barged in waving his badge.

"It's over, Pope, I've got everything I need to put you away."

"Hold on, fella, you don't come barging in here like that."

"Yeah? See this?" He held the badge up to Syd's face. "Now get outta my way old man before I take you in too."

Harold started toward them, holding up a hand. "It's okay, Syd, I'll take care-"

"No. This is my ground, and you are trespassing mister, with your cereal prize badge and that nerf ball stuck on your ugly face."

Staines reached around to his hip holster and whipped out his gun, snarling at Syd and aiming at his head.

"Oh, God" Tony sat on the floor, holding his head.

Harold was still trying to speak and before he could utter another word, Staines was on the floor with his own gun, still in his hand and pointed at his neck. The move was so fast he couldn't believe it happened.

"Holy shit, man, how did you do that?"

"Been a while but I was an instructor for CROS part-time after I came here. Still got the moves though." Syd grinned and lifted Staines up, unloading his weapon and shoving it in his jacket pocket.

"Now get outta here and take your toy gun and badge and don't show that mess of a face around here again." Staines didn't get a chance to object.

"When were you in the army?"

"Eighty-nine, Afghanistan, and that's the end of that topic."

Harold nodded. "By the way, he's a violent crime investigator for the DA's office, Syd. You can get in big trouble."

"Well let him investigate what just happened and we'll see who comes out on top." Syd started back to his desk and stopped. "What the heck is he doin'?"

They both looked at Tony, sitting on the floor, crying.

"I'll take him up to his office while I do the mail."

********

Della was busy at her desk when Harold rolled up with a despondent Tony.

"What's going on?"

"He had a bit of a breakdown downstairs. I'm gonna sit him in his office . . . unless you want him."

The remark sounded suggestive and she pulled a face. "I haven't got time. Peter never showed up and I have all these . . ." She gestured to a stack of files on her desk leaving Tony relegated to the bottom of that pile.

"Here's your mail . . . He told me you suggested to Peter that I took that picture." Harold wasn't angry, he just gave her a sad smile.

"I- he- Tony led me to believe- I'm sorry, Harold . . ."

"Guess we could have been a lot sorrier if things hadn't gone the way they did. Don't sweat it, Miss Walker. Water under the bridge." He moved on toward Tony's office.

Della muttered a puzzled thank you after him.

********

Peter was waiting on the sidewalk outside Della's building when she arrived home and she thought she was in for another night like the one she had with Tony.

"Why are you here, Peter? Why weren't you at work? I had to pick up a lot of slack and make a lot of excuses and I am too tired to deal with your problems tonight."

"Shirley threw me out."

She stared. If his face had been any longer he would have resembled Easter Island's Moʻai.

"Why?" She opened the building door and he followed her inside.

"That little prick that I punched at the office showed up with a copy of the picture and gave it to her!"

She moved to the elevators but hesitated pushing the button. "What are you going to do?"

"I had a talk with the big boss - I was trying to explain why I wasn't in today - he uh, he suggested I repeat that for several more days until he speaks to the board. My career is at stake."

"What do you think you will do, Peter?"

He moved to push the elevator button and she grabbed his hand.

"No. That is not on, Peter."

"C'mon, Della, part of this was your fault too."

She thought back to the decision she made when talking to Tony - detachment - now was the time. She pushed the button and watched him relax and when the doors opened she stood facing him, blocking entry.
"Della?"

"Sorry, Peter. I have a career to think of too." The doors closed, and he just stood there - lost.

Harold had forgiven her. Tony was driftwood and Peter was now a memory . . . a fun one at times, but times change. She fingered the picture in her purse and felt a chunk of her cold soul calve off and slide away.

21,139 Word Total (Microsoft Word Count)