CHAPTER TEN 1 April 1995 (Saturday)
JULIE'S TENTH DAY IN MIAMI
THE BLUE VIOLIN
Early Saturday morning found Horatio with his lady love, and she trying to ignore his kisses and his caresses, but to no avail. He was persistent, and finally she laughed and threw her arms around him. He didn't have to work today, so he was going to take his time with her. He rubbed her cast. Her leg was feeling much better, and he gave her a massage, after which her entire body tingled from his touch.
She was her lively, bouncy self this morning, and her smiles were infectious. "Will we have pancakes, Horatio?"
"If you want pancakes, we will have pancakes." Actually, one of his favorite breakfast foods was pancakes, particularly blueberry pancakes. She had discovered this about him early on.
She threw the covers off herself and started to rise. "Let's go start the pancakes."
"Ah-ah-ah--" He held her firmly on her back and pulled the blankets over them both.
"What do you want to do now, Horatio?" As if she didn't know.
"I--I wannu crawl on top of you," he answered, licking his lips, remembering the night before, and wanting more of the same. "I--I wannu get inside you. The pancakes can wait."
Julie's look was one of pure joy, and she inched closer to him.
"I'll take that as a yes, hm?" Gently but adamantly, he caressed her stomach and sides.
"You do not give up, do you."
Her teasing words were like heaven to him.
"It's not in my vocabulary." Had she told him no, he would have been devastated.
"Rrrrrr--!" She answered, as her arms welcomed his body onto her, and into her.
His love-making was fast, wild, and total, as it had been the night before.
While he was busy with her, she insisted on talking about going to the flea market today, until he told her to be quiet, and give herself over to him.
"Why do I get the feeling I am doing this myself?" he grumbled. He wanted her to pay attention to HIM.
So she shut up, and gave him her full focus, and his happiness made her happy too.
The condom came off while they were moving around, and afterward, they could not find it. Julie made a game out of looking for it, and they finally realized there was only one place it could be. He had to work at getting it out, because her fingers were not long enough to retrieve it. They examined it closely. It was empty. It must have come off rather early after penetration, as it was buried in deep. He was lucky that he could reach it. He mumbled something about becoming parents, and her face became very serious. It seemed unreal, and very bizzare to both of them, that they had condom trouble two days in a row.
She thought about the events of the night before and this morning as she gently washed him, and he washed her in turn, making it a point to be very careful around her cast.
Now, they were ready for pancakes. Julie chose to eat in the nude, just because she could, so he followed suit. It was her suggestion, and she would have done it, even if he didn't. He admitted it had been a long time since he had eaten breakfast naked. It was different, and seemed rather strange to him, but at the same time, deliciously pleasant, and a little dangerous.
Julie sang softly in French, and she translated some of the words for him. He continued to be amazed, and a little awed, by her. She was so unlike any woman he had ever known. Always a new thing to reveal about herself. Always a fresh, new surprise. He found himself wondering each day, what new delight he would learn about her, and what she would do or say to embarrass him, or what she would say that would make him feel good about himself.
After breakfast they got dressed and went to the flea market. The sky was overcast, and looked like rain, so they took their jackets with them. They were not looking for anything in particular, but she thought she might be able to pick up some good used horse tack for resale.
The grounds where the Boca Raton flea market was located was at one time in the past, a horse farm. The barn and outbuildings had been converted to outdoor and indoor booths, as well as having stalls set up in the grassy field, and on the pavement area. At the main office in the middle of the flea market complex, was a stable-like structure housing the main office. On top of the building was a cuppola with a small spotlight in it. This spotlight blinked alternately red and white lights as it rotated. It captured Julie's attention, and she hesitated, looking up at the top of the building.
"What is the spotlight up there for? This is daylight."
"Where?" Horatio looked up into the sky above her head.
"There." Julie was still looking up toward the sky.
Horatio's head turned to left and right, and his eyes searched the clouds, but he failed to see what Julie was talking about.
"No, right there. On top of that building."
"Honey, I don't see what you're looking at. Can you point it out for me?"
"No, 'Ratio. It is rude to point."
He looked around for the light, and failed to see it. "Maybe it's an airplane?" he suggested.
"'Ratio, look at my nose. See where it is pointing?" She stretched her neck up and froze like a statue.
He looked at her nose. "What are you, a bird dog?"
She stomped her foot in mock anger.
"No! Horatio! The red one with the white glow around it!"
His eyes followed where her nose was pointing, and his eyes narrowed. "Yes, I see it."
They stood looking at it for a minute as it rotated.
His head bobbed up and down finally, and he said, "Mm hm, what about it?"
She sighed deeply. "Uh--hum--"
She moved her head from side to side, perplexed. "Now I forgot."
"Uh hm." Horatio seemed amused by the entire incident.
They continued meandering around the premises, holding hands, observing the people, the sellers hawking their wares, early-morning buyers moving from one booth to another, the loose children gamboling about on the pavement.
Their attention was caught by a booth that was selling fake police badges and toy law enforcement items. Julie engaged the small Italian vendor in conversation, and asked him questions about how real police badges were made, where they came from, whether they all came from one large manufacturer. She plied the bewildered vendor with questions until, in exasperation, he told her he wasn't the owner of the booth, just the manager. He was on the verge of retreating into his small trailer to get away from her, when she took Horatio's hand again, and together they meandered toward the next stall.
They went on to stroll and talk about the office where Horatio worked, all the paperwork he had to do, and the hours he spent in traveling to crime scenes. She kept him talking, although she wasn't rambling. Everything she asked him seemed to have a definite purpose, a single-mindedness, as though she was stowing the information in her brain for future use.
Julie kept trying to draw him out of himself. He freely answered her questions about his work, some of the cases he had worked on, but as she had noticed early on, he had a hard time talking about his past, or his personal life.
Horatio thoroughly enjoyed being with her, in spite of her relentlessness. She asked thought-provoking questions, and listened intently to the answers. If she didn't understand a point, she questioned it until she did understand it. Indeed, sometimes she asked him a question that even he didn't know the answer to. And when he couldn't answer it, she was entirely sympathetic, as though he were a schoolboy who had not done his homework, and needed to brush up on his studies. He found it, as always, somewhat disconcerting, and it left him feeling a little bewildered, and guilty, as though he hadn't done his homework.
Off and on, she held his hand, until finally, he took hold of her hand, gripped her, and made it understood he wanted her to stay by his side, and stop going off without him. He was with a wildly attractive woman, he pointed out, and he didn't want her getting away from him.
She tried to settle down for him; she was just excited about seeing all the booths. She apologized to him, as she sensed that he just wanted to be with her, and keep her with him.
He thought she looked particularly lovely this day, and he told her so. She had chosen a light blue dress adorned with a single feather pinned to her left breast pocket. The dress caught her just below the knees, and showed off her beautiful legs very well. She wore her sandals without socks. He wore a pale yellow polo shirt and clean jeans of light blue. His pull-on sneakers were also light blue, and he wore white socks. As it turned out, they were a perfect match. They walked along in silence for awhile, past vacuum cleaners, tee shirt displays, cheap toys, and junk. Julie was not finding any horse tack, but didn't seem all that disappointed.
She had become as silent as she had been talkative, but he was becoming accustomed to it--her long stretches of quietness, as though she were storing up questions that she would unleash on him at some future time.
They passed by a gay and lesbian vendor, and she took an interest in it. She didn't speak to anyone there, except to say hello to the two young men working in the booth, but she spent a few minutes looking at the literature, and took two pamphlets and put them into her pocket. Horatio noticed this, but he failed to see what information the two brochures contained.
They moved on from the booth back onto the midway.
"I am such a coward," she said suddenly, to no one in particular.
He waited a minute for her to explain, and when she remained silent, he urged, "Now, why would you say that?"
"It is no accident that I scheduled my vacation now." She looked at her sandals, and then up to his face. "It is so I do not have to attend my brother's wedding."
"Your brother's wedding?"
"I do not think he should marry this woman. He is making a big mistake."
Horatio waited for her to continue. He signified he was listening by nodding his head and looking down at her with tilted head.
"She is already mad at me for coming down here, instead of giving her the adoration and attention she thinks she deserves."
"Well--um--it's her wedding day--it's a big day for her." Horatio was wondering where his girlfriend was leading with this.
"But it is HIS wedding day as well," she remarked.
"Is this the same brother who needs a girl friend?"
"Oh, no, 'Ratio. This is a different brother."
As they meandered along, he ventured, "Why--why do you dislike her so much?"
Julie sighed deeply before answering. "I cannot really explain--why. I just have a feeling about her. She is a trouble-maker--some of the things she has already said about certain members of my family--which are not true--um--I don't know, Horatio, I just--do not have a good feeling about her."
"Well, sweetheart--um--sometimes we just have to accept what happens. We can't make other peoples' decisions for them."
"She says bad things to him. And--and about him--like behind his back. He lets her say those things. He will not defend himself against her."
They continued walking hand-in-hand. Their hand-holding was very intimate, and they rubbed fingers, caressed each other's palms, squeezed hands, and maintained firm physical contact--all through their hands.
Horatio was thinking about Julie's brother, and he couldn't help remembering his own ex-wife, who had treated him badly, saying mean things to him, and even refusing to have his children--in no uncertain terms.
A slight breeze had come up, just as they were walking past a large corner stall with a wide variety of home decor and a few old musical instruments. Julie's eye was caught by a lovely blue violin propped up against a table, with its case next to it, with the bow in the case. She lagged as they strolled by the stall, and she stopped to stare at the blue violin. After a moment, he continued walking, leading her away from the stall.
After a moment, he felt a tug at his hand, and realized she had stopped, thoughtful, and was looking behind her, into the corner booth with the violin. She wanted to look closer at that violin, so she led Horatio back to the booth, much like a seeing-eye dog would lead a blind master. She let go of his hand and stiffly lowered herself down in front of the blue violin, bending her left leg and stretching her right leg out. He stood to the side, just inside the booth, watching and waiting for her to re-join him.
Julie lightly stroked the violin, the way someone might touch a lover or a very dear friend. The merchant got in her face, anxious to sell her the fiddle. She tried to ignore him. She lightly picked up the blue violin, and the bow, stood up, and played a few notes. She tuned it, and played a few more notes. She adjusted it again. She plucked at the strings with her fingers, and began to play a sad song, because she would have to leave Horatio in seven more days. Then she played a happy song, because she had seven more days to be with him.
Horatio saw that she knew her way around a violin, so he looked on, transfixed. Here was yet another side to Julie that he had not known before; she was a gifted violinist.
Julie had not yet said anything to the vendor. In fact, she was still trying to ignore him. He was trying to sell her the violin for $300. She told Horatio she didn't want to spend a lot of money this day. She played part of another song, then she put the violin and bow back down into the case, careful to stand it up for display. Horatio coaxed her away from the stall, and they continued down the alleyway, once more hand in hand.
Their noses told them they were passing the food court, and they were reminded that it was lunch time. They slowly meandered that way.
She paused, pulled some money out of her dress pocket and counted it as he blocked her from the view of others who might see her money. A little more than $200 was in her hand. She appeared to be in deep thought as she put the money back into her pocket.
They ordered food and drink, and took their meal to a table in the outdoor food court. They sat down side by side, and began eating. He held his arm around the back of her chair, and she scooted her chair closer to him. He noticed the black tendrils blowing in the breeze, and he lifted his hand to smooth the hair away from her eyes. Such was his feeling for her, he had a difficult time keeping his hands off her. She didn't seem to mind at all.
Someone had left the Saturday morning edition lying on the table, and Julie idly picked it up to look at it. She saw the headline about the celebrity who had been knifed to death in his hotel room. She and Horatio talked about it a little, and he mentioned to her that he had spent most of yesterday afternoon interviewing the witnesses and associates of the singer, and that they did not yet have a suspect in custody. Horatio vowed that they would find the killer, and Julie had confidence that they would.
As Julie's eyes wandered around the food court, she spotted an enemy--the bicyclist who had knocked her into the fountain pool five days before. He was sitting about three tables away from them, and his bicycle was propped against his table while he ate his lunch. Her eyes narrowed to slits and she glared at him. Horatio didn't appear to notice--not at first--and she didn't say a word to him.
He stopped eating, suddenly seeing that she had affected a dark look across her lovely features.
"You okay, babe?" He wondered.
"I am fine, mavourneen," she assured him, looking down at her beef taco.
He took her head in his hand, and she lay her head onto his shoulder affectionately, but with her eyes, she continued to shoot daggers at the individual three tables away.
Horatio took himself off to the restroom, and when he returned, Julie was not at the table, but the half-eaten lunch still was, along with her drink and her backpack. He figured she had gone to the restroom, but had been foolish to leave her pack behind. He would speak to her about that later. He sat down to wait for her. He heard loud voices. One of them was Julie's. He looked up and around. There she was, arguing with someone three tables away. The argument seemed to be escalating. He stood up, and went to see what it was all about.
As Horatio reached the table, the man was calling Julie a bitch, and Horatio immediately became defensive.
"Excuse me. Did I hear you calling my girlfriend a bitch?"
Julie waved her arm toward the individual sitting at the table. "Horatio, I would like for you to meet the jerk who hit me with his bicycle, and knocked me into the fountain."
"Is that true?" Horatio wondered. "Are you the one who did this to her?" His eyes narrowed.
The other man didn't want to admit it at first, but then he gave himself away, when he threatened to hit Julie again if they didn't go away and leave him alone.
Horatio stepped forward, and said, with conviction, "If you are gonnu hit somebody--start with me first." His eyes blazed, and they had gone dark. His protective instinct rose to the fore.
Julie spoke up. "If you DO hit him, I will rip your rotten heart out, and feed it to the gulls, along with the rest of your skanky body." Her voice had become low and deadly. "And do not think I don't mean it." Her fists curled up at her sides, and she spat contemptuously toward the ground at his feet, for emphasis. Her taut expression and her body posture, as well as her words of conviction, had gotten some attention from the people sitting at a few nearby tables. She seemed not to notice.
Confronted with two adversaries as he was, the bully deflated a little, as two pairs of eyes bored into his, neither one giving any ground. He knew he was outnumbered, and being the bully that he was, he was also a sniveling coward. He began to wilt.
"I believe you owe the lady an apology." Horatio's voice was low and very ominous, and he refused to release the eye contact.
The bully hated to back down, but this crazy redhead and his raven-haired bimbo were challenging his behavior, and the redhead's facial expression, plus his body language, made the bully think that maybe discretion was the better part of valor.
"Why? Are you backing down--" Julie started to say, until Horatio interrupted her.
"Julie, go back to the table and wait for me."
She hesitated.
He pointed to their table with a no-nonsense attitude. "Go on--go sit down."
Julie did so, reluctantly. She continued to glare right into the eyes of the bully, and she could hear Horatio's voice, although she could not discern what he was saying. A few moments later, he re-joined her, Julie wondered what Horatio had said to the creep, but she didn't ask, and he never told her. However, the jerk had gotten on his bicycle, and he was soon pedaling away at great speed, having left the remainder of his food untouched on his table.
Julie was fine. She finished her lunch, and they got up and left. She acted as though nothing had happened. But she held his hand again, very protectively.
Horatio remembered Julie's words as she threatened the bully. Never had Horatio met a woman who had defended him the way she had. Would she have followed through on her threat? Would she have gone into battle for him? Him, Horatio Caine? Somehow, he had the feeling, that as diminutive as she was, she just might have. When they left their table, their trash properly stowed in the barrel available, she paused to tuck the Saturday morning edition under Horatio's arm. She intended to take the newspaper home with her.
Julie continued to think about that lovely blue violin as she and her boyfriend meandered from stall to stall, enjoying the sights, and just being happy to spend time together.
Stopping suddenly, she took out her money again, and counted it. Having made a circle in their travels, they were now walking back toward the booth which had the violin in it. An elderly man else was in the booth and he was looking at the violin. He picked it up and held it out, away from him, as though it were a filthy thing, and he didn't want to soil himself with it. Julie froze in place, and stared at the man with a menacing glare.
Horatio noticed, and he asked, "Sweetheart--what's wrong?" His gaze traveled from her to the man holding the violin, and back down to Julie again.
Instead of answering, Julie shook her head, and a malevelant look clouded her lovely face. "Put that fiddle down," she growled, loud enough for only herself and Horatio to hear. "That's MY fiddle! Put it down!" She glared at the man with a look of contempt.
And the man did put the violin down, rather roughly, she thought, and he stepped back to look at it thoughtfully. Then, he turned his back for a minute, as his attention was captured by another item in the stall.
Julie let go Horatio's hand, and very stealthily, in a crouch, crept into the stall, behind the man, and picked up the fiddle and it's case, and slithered back out of the booth with it. She clutched the instrument to herself possessively, and nodded at the vendor, who came her way.
She had the $200 in her pocket. Horatio volunteered to give her another $50 to add to it. She said she would let him know.
She told the vendor all the things that were wrong with the violin. The scratches on the body, the missing horsehairs in the bow, a loose string, the fact that this was not the violin's original case. She told the vendor she had $200, and he could take it or leave it. After a moment's hesitation, the vendor took the $200, and she and Horatio hurried away from the booth, before the vendor could change his mind. Thus, Horatio kept his $50, and Julie got a real bargain on a fine musical instrument.
Julie stared at her new blue violin in disbelief. "I cannot believe you are really mine." She cradled it to herself lovingly. She told Horatio this violin was worth $400.00. It was rather rare.
The rain started coming down. Horatio and Julie took cover beneath an awning. They had left their jackets in the car. She played the violin lightly before returning it into the case. She was ready to go home for the rest of the day. She had gotten herself into enough trouble, and besides, she had spent all the money she had with her.
Horatio wanted Julie to stay where she was, while he went for the car, so she wouldn't have to get wet. She refused. They would leave together, she insisted. Where he went, she went. So they ran to the car together, and both got equally wet.
Back home that afternoon at the apartment, she put the violin case in his bedroom, next to her suitcase. She wanted to listen to some music. He, on the other hand, wanted to watch a television program. He won the good-natured argument--this time. It was, after all, his apartment. They scuffled a little, and it ended with his arms around her, and she growing very quiet, hugging him back, and reluctant to let him go.
She teased him further, saying that he should let her win, because she was crippled. They looked at her cast to see how it was getting along, and she decided to tell him the true story of Jack and the Beanstalk. It was important, she pointed out, and she wanted him to pay attention before he became too interested in his tv show. She also told him there would be questions about it that had to be answered correctly, before he would be allowed to go to work on Monday morning.
So Julie launched into her story. When the giant chased Jack down the beanstalk, according to Julie, and Jack cut the stalk, and the giant fell to the ground, the fall did not kill him, it merely broke his leg. So he had to move in with Jack and his old crabby mother until the leg mended.
Horatio looked like he doubted Julie's story, but he was fascinated with her seriousness, and the way she could tell the tale.
She continued, assuring him that it was only fair, since it was Jack who had stolen the giant's goose--the little upstart thief--and probably English as well. And it was just for six weeks, until his leg mended. Julie was staying with Horatio for only TWO weeks, she reminded him.
Horatio failed to see how the story was connected with he and Julie, and she would not elaborate, but he admitted to himself that he wouldn't mind if she stayed longer than six weeks; like for the rest of his life.
Julie stood in front of the kitchen sink, looking at the Saturday edition, and Horatio was standing behind her, his chin on the top of her head. He touched her shoulders in a familiar way, and they argued in fun, how to divide up the housework. Her head leaned back and he kissed her forehead.
"You know, Horatio, Jack is not the only thief." She looked at him with a dreamy expression.
"Oh?"
"You are a thief as well, in fact, you are a bigger thief than Jack."
"How so?"
"Because, Horatio Caine, you have stolen my heart, and I do not want it back." She suddenly pulled away from him, embarrassed at the words that had tumbled out of her mouth. She retreated to the bedroom, leaving him standing there with the thought in his head, and looking at the wall in front of him where she had stood.
His eyes took on a tender look as they traced the path she had taken down the hallway. A warm feeling engolfed his body and he took awhile to move from the spot where he was rooted. Once again, the words MY WIFE invaded his brain.
******************************************************************************** As Horatio sat in his recliner watching television and reading a book, Julie's words came back to him. Thief. Heart stealer. He was beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, she was feeling the way about him that he was feeling about her. Could it be? Could he be happy with her for the rest of his life? That warm feeling came over him again.
For a couple of hours after they had returned home, the sun had peeked through the clouds, and a bright afternoon ensued, but now, the weather outside had turned cloudy and cool, and the rain started hitting the roof and pattering on the metal railing at the top of the ledge around the patio. Horatio went to the sliding glass door and peered outside.
Julie had donned her long underwear, and her leg warmers over that, and her Indian blanket over her nightgown. She was sitting at the kitchen table writing in her journal, while listening to Horatio's television program.
Suddenly he appeared from out of nowhere, standing behind her chair, gently touching her hair and the side of her neck, looking over her shoulder at what she was writing.
"My, my, we have a lot of clothes on, don't we." He smoothed a wisp of hair behind her ear. "Are you trying to tell me something?"
"No, my love," she said in a distracted manner. "I am not trying to discourage you."
"Now that--that can't happen." His lips kissed the top of her head.
"What can't? Me discouraging you?"
He took the pencil from her hand, and lay it aside. "That can't be done."
He lifted her up, out of the chair and placed kisses on her face, his hands on both sides of her head.
The quiet moment was shattered by a knock on the door. Julie, startled, nearly jumped out of her skin. She took off toward the living room, and Horatio followed her, opting to do that over answering the door. A second knock sounded, and Horatio wondered if she was going to see who was at the door.
"No, my love. It is YOUR apartment." She stood just around the corner in the hallway, peering into the foyer. "And tell whoever it is to go away. We are going to be busy." She seemed perturbed that their moment of intimacy had been interrupted.
"To be continued," he chuckled, as he headed toward the door.
Julie made for the bedroom, but she left the bedroom door open.
Horatio opened the door to find his brother Raymond Caine standing there. Some time had passed since they had seen each other, so Horatio gave his brother a warm welcome.
The brothers were talking in the foyer, when something caught Horatio's eye. Julie was crouching in the hallway entrance, glaring at Raymond through slitted eyes. The brother followed Horatio's gaze, and spotted Julie.
"Well, hello there," he smiled. "Who is that?"
Julie said nothing, but looked at Horatio.
Horatio introduced the two of them to each other. "Raymond, Julie. Julie, this is my brother, Ray Caine."
Ray spoke again. "Pleased to meet you, pretty lady."
Julie nodded, smiling. Her cover blown, she rose and walked gingerly back into the bedroom.
"She's a little shy," Horatio said softly.
"Hey, big brother, you've been holding out on me," Ray said with a laugh.
"Well--um--," Horatio stuttered, his face reddening.
"Oh, I see," teased Ray as he delivered a good-natured slap to his brother's shoulder.
The Caine brothers sat down to visit in the living room.
Ray was very curious about that girl. "Where did you find her?"
"I didn't. She found me."
"Horatio called to her. "Julie. Julie Anne. Come out here, sweetheart."
She peeked out of the bedroom, and limped slowly down the hall to the living room, paused, turned and went into the kitchen. She brought the men out two cups of coffee, then seated herself right next to Horatio, on the sofa.
She and Ray regarded each other with curiosity, sizing each other up.
Ray leaned forward from the recliner and sat his coffee cup on the floor next to the chair. He leaned forward and put his hands on his knees. "She looks like an Indian girl." His words were directed at Horatio. "Is she a Seminole?"
Julie responded, "I am not invisible, sir. Do not talk about me as though I am not here." She gave him direct eye contact, as though challenging him. He lowered his eyes first.
She told him she was of the Anishinabe Nation, of the Bear Clan, and the great-granddaughter of Chief Red Pipe of the Leech Lake Reserve in central Minnesota. Ray didn't know whether to believe her or not, and Horatio himself was dubious, but she seemed dead serious. In all fairness, he reminded himself, he had no reason to doubt her.
Horatio could tell that Ray really liked Julie. How typical, he thought. Ray always had a penchant for stealing Horatio's girlfriends, sometimes even before the relationships got under way.
As for Julie's part, this Raymond Caine wouldn't have a ghost of a chance with her. She was acting very reserved, although polite, and she was somewhat aloof with him. She was professional, albeit shy, in her demeanor. She could read him like a book, and already knew the type of individual he was.
Like Horatio, Raymond Caine was a cop. He worked out of the North Miami Police Department. He had followed his elder brother into the profession, starting out in New York City, as had Horatio. He was thinking of getting into the narcotics end of it, against Horatio's advice.
The brothers were as different as day is to night. Ray was more of a womanizer than his elder brother, more reckless, more willing to jump into situations without thinking of the consequences, less willing to accept responsibility for his actions. On more than one occasion, Horatio had to step in and clean up his brother's messes. It had been this way since they were children. In their family, Horatio had been the oldest, the unwanted child, the one with the wild red hair, the rebellious child of independence. Ray had been the 'cute' one, whom everyone doted on, and whom the parents expected Horatio to take care of, so Ray had grown up a spoiled, indulged brat, who had expected his brother to come to his rescue when he had gotten himself into trouble.
As far as the girls went, Ray was always the charmer, the one who the girls flocked around. Horatio, on the other hand, was the shy one, the one who held back, the one with the 'ugly' scars on his body. For every girl Horatio got, Ray could get three.
Ray had married a beautiful young Columbian woman named Yelina Salas. As a matter of fact, Horatio had met her first, and then, true to form, Raymond had moved in, and started dating her, even before she and Horatio had really gotten a chance to develop their relationship.
As it turned out, Yelina began to take more of an interest in Ray than in Horatio, and now, after being married for almost four years, they were the parents of a lovely dark-haired baby boy whom they had named Raymond Caine Jr., and on whom his Uncle Horatio doted. From the conversation of the two brothers, Julie perceived that Horatio had known her first, and Ray had taken her away from him.
Julie was curious about Ray's wife, so he pulled out his wallet and showed her Yelina's picture.
"Julie smiled. "She is very beautiful."
"She sure is," agreed Ray, and then he continued, "So are you." Ray flirted with Julie.
Horatio said nothing, but he was thinking, "please don't try to take this one away from me."
Then Ray showed Julie a small picture of Ray Jr., who would turn three years old in June. He was born just about on his parents' first wedding anniversary. Ray was very proud of the boy.
Julie said nothing, but looked at Ray with a calm intensity, her gaze unwavering, until as before, he moved his eyes downward. She had picked up on him almost immediately. As astute as she was, she had also detected Horatio's nervousness, and she stayed as close to him as she could.
Ray questioned Julie about the bruise on her forehead, and her limp, wondering teasingly if Horatio had done that. With a serious demeanor, she slowly told him about the biker, and the old injury to the femur. Then she turned to Horatio, and told him how that bone probably had gotten cracked.
She remembered being kicked by a cow about three weeks ago, at the dairy where she worked. The regular dairyman couldn't come to work, so the owner called her to come in. She thought it would be a good way to make some extra money. She was leaning over, removing the surcingle from the cow, when the cow lashed out with her right rear leg.
Ray suggested that Julie may have accidentally pinched the cow, but Julie assured him that was not the case. She didn't even touch the old bitch. She didn't see the kick coming. The cow had caught her halfway up her thigh--Julie showed Ray and Horatio where--and she had been laid out on the ground for a few minutes, until she got her breath back. She remembered looking up at the ceiling of the barn, but all she could see was stars whirling around her head.
No, in answer to Ray's question, she hadn't gone to the doctor, because she had been stupid. The leg had hurt for two days, and then stopped hurting. Neither Ray or Horatio knew that cows could kick sideways. After a few days, she had forgotten about the incident. When one worked around livestock, one could expect to get a few dings; it went with the territory.
The talk moved on to police matters, and while the brothers were visiting in the living room, Julie sat down at the kitchen table to do some more writing. She listened to the Caine brothers talking, but contributed nothing to their conversation. They could hear her in the kitchen, very quietly shuffling papers, sharpening her pencil, tapping her finger, opening a book.
The two brothers got up, and moved toward the front door, still talking. Ray was leaving, and the two of them had come to stand behind Julie's chair at the kitchen table.
"What are you doing?" Ray looked over Julie's shoulder at her journal.
"Writing."
She turned her face up to her boyfriend. "Horatio, do you want to see a picture of me?"
"Mm hm," he answered eagerly. "I'd like to HAVE a picture of you."
"You cannot have a picture of me, until you let me take a picture of you." She smiled at him crookedly.
"Touche!" Ray laughed.
"Uh--huh huh huh," chuckled Horatio.
"Sounds like a standoff," said Ray. "A coup."
"Yeah," from Horatio.
Raymond looked at his watch. "Well, I'd better get going. I told Yelina I wouldn't be gone long."
The redhead studied the top of Julie's head. "Tell her I said hello."
"Will do, big brother."
Ray touched Julie lightly on the shoulder. "Honey, it was nice to meet you."
"Uh--" Julie turned at his touch. "Goodnight, sir."
"Call me Ray."
"Goodnight, Sir Ray."
"She's cute." Ray looked at Horatio, and the redhead looked back at Ray. "You take care of that leg." Ray looked down at Julie.
She turned back to her paperwork on the table. "I will."
"Yeah--"
"See ya," said Horatio.
Ray took his leave, and Horatio and his girlfriend watched from the doorway as he started his engine, backed his car away, and merged onto the highway beyond the parking lot. Horatio closed and locked the door.
Julie returned to her chair and sat down, and began writing again.
Horatio turned to Julie, kissed the top of her head, his hands on her arms. leaning over her. He lay her pencil aside for the second time this night.
"To--be--continued--" he reminded her.
She got up, turned off the light, and they went to bed.
He peeled her clothing off, a layer at a time, and they gave themselves to each other.
Afterward they lay in bed, cuddling, before falling asleep.
"I made you work, didn't I." She was satisfied she had worn him out.
"Ooooh,yeah--" he said, as he lay on his back, satisfied, and resting. "That you did, sweetheart. That you did."
Julie thought back to the night before, and of the way the condom had split open down the side, as easy as an onion skin. And this morning, when the thing actually managed to work it's way off. Unbelievable. Condoms were not supposed to behave that way. For the first time since she had been with Horatio, she began to think of the possible consequences of her actions.
After a time, she whispered, "'Ratio?"
"What, baby?"
"Do you remember today, at the flea market, that little clothing store, right across from where we sat to have lunch?"
"Well, um--I kind of do--what about it?"
"Did you see that baby in the crib with wheels on it? It was outside the clothing store.
"Yes. Cute kid."
"I think it was a boy."
"Mm hm."
"He had a bottle propped up on a pillow, and there was a black dog with a leash, and it was wrapped around the leg of that crib. It was an accident waiting to happen." She paused a moment, and then added, "That dog might well have taken off after a cat, or another dog, or a leaf blowing in the wind, and pulled the crib and baby after him."
"Yeah--kinda gives new meaning to rock a bye baby, doesn't it."
"When the dog runs, the cradle will fall, and down will come baby, cradle and all."
"I did not see his mother at all."
"Maybe she was working in the store, or maybe she was a customer."
"I would think she would be concerned about kidnappers and pedophiles."
"Honey, I'm sure she was around there close by."
"Well, not only was he left alone outside in his crib, she couldn't even find the time to hold him while he had his bottle. Maybe I should have gone looking for her, if she was there."
"What would you have said to her?"
"I would have told her to tie that dog to a light pole, or to the leg of a table. Maybe I could have persuaded her to let ME have him, if she did not want to take better care of him."
"Well--um--sweetheart, you can't really tell parents how to raise their kids. I'm sure the mother was around. There was no evidence of physical abuse."
"But, Horatio, you are a cop. Surely you could have--um--maybe looked for her. Told her to not tie that dog to the leg of the crib. She would listen to you."
"Yeah--I'm a cop. I'm a homicide detective, not a social worker. There was no evidence of foul play, or abuse to the child."
They lay quietly for a few minutes. She looked troubled, unsatisfied, as though the conversation needed to continue.
"Goodnight, Horatio."
"'Night, sweetheart."
END OF CHAPTER TEN
