Darkness shit.”
She sighed and let him guide her foot into the plain black pump. "Yeah, I suppose he did. I needed to sleep, Mike." She reached down and brushed the long curl of hair back off his face. "I couldn't have done it without him. He gave me the night to sleep when he could have taken it for himself.”
"Very noble of him," Celluci grunted, sliding her other foot into the second shoe. And it was very noble, he admitted to himself as he stood. Noble in the running roughshod I know best so don't bother expressing an opinion sort of a way that went out with the fucking feudal system. Still, Fitzroy had acted in what he considered to be Vicki's best interests. And he honestly didn't think that he could have left them alone together, as Fitzroy had no choice but to do come morning. So I suppose I might have done the same thing under similar circumstances. Which doesn't excuse his royal fucking undead highness one bit.
What bothered him the most about it was how little Vicki seemed to care, how much she seemed to be operating on cruise control, and how little she seemed to be interacting with the world around her. He recognized the effects of grief and shock, he'd seen them both often enough over the years, but they were somehow harder to deal with because they were applied here and now to Vicki.
He wanted to make it better for her.
He knew he couldn't.
He hated having to accept that.
All right, Fitzroy, you gave her sleep last night, I'll give her support today. Maybe together we can get her through it.
He got her to eat but eventually, when even trying to start an argument failed, he gave up trying to get her to talk.
About noon, Mr. Delgado arrived to ask if Vicki needed a lift to the funeral home. She looked up from where she sat, silently rocking, and shook her head.
"Humph," he snorted, stepping back out into the hall and once again looking Celluci over. "You one of her friends from the police?”
"Detective-Sergeant Michael Celluci.”
"Yeah. I thought so. You look like a cop. Louis Delgado." His grip was still strong, his palm hard with a workman's calluses.
"What happened to the other guy?”
"He sat up with her all night. He's still sleeping.”
"He's not a cop.”
"No.”
To Celluci's surprise the old man chuckled. "In my day two men fighting over one woman, there would have been blood on the street, let me tell you.”
"What makes you think . . .”
"You think maybe I shut my brain off when I retired? I saw the three of you together last night, remember?" His face grew suddenly somber. "Maybe it's a good thing people got more civilized; she doesn't need fighting around her right now. I saw her grow up. Watched her decide to be an adult when she should have been enjoying being a child. Tried to take care of her mother, insisted on taking care of herself.” He sighed. "She won't bend, you know. Now that this terrible thing has happened, you and that other fellow, don't you let her break.”
"We'll do our best.”
"Humph." He snorted again and swiped at his eyes with a snowy white handkerchief, his opinion of their best obviously not high.
Celluci watched him return to his own apartment, then quietly closed the door. "Mr. Delgado cares about you a great deal," he said, crossing the room to stand by Vicki's side.
She shook her head. "He was very fond of my mother.”
She didn't speak again until they were in the car on the way to the funeral home.
"Mike?”
He glanced sideways. She wore her courtroom face. Not even the most diligent of defense attorneys could have found an opinion on it.
"I didn't call her. And when she called me, I didn't answer. And then she died.”
"You know there's no connection." He said it as gently as he could. He didn't expect an answer. He didn't get one.
There wasn't anything else to say, so he reached down and covered her left hand with his. After a long moment, her fingers turned and she clutched at him with such force that he
She sighed and let him guide her foot into the plain black pump. "Yeah, I suppose he did. I needed to sleep, Mike." She reached down and brushed the long curl of hair back off his face. "I couldn't have done it without him. He gave me the night to sleep when he could have taken it for himself.”
"Very noble of him," Celluci grunted, sliding her other foot into the second shoe. And it was very noble, he admitted to himself as he stood. Noble in the running roughshod I know best so don't bother expressing an opinion sort of a way that went out with the fucking feudal system. Still, Fitzroy had acted in what he considered to be Vicki's best interests. And he honestly didn't think that he could have left them alone together, as Fitzroy had no choice but to do come morning. So I suppose I might have done the same thing under similar circumstances. Which doesn't excuse his royal fucking undead highness one bit.
What bothered him the most about it was how little Vicki seemed to care, how much she seemed to be operating on cruise control, and how little she seemed to be interacting with the world around her. He recognized the effects of grief and shock, he'd seen them both often enough over the years, but they were somehow harder to deal with because they were applied here and now to Vicki.
He wanted to make it better for her.
He knew he couldn't.
He hated having to accept that.
All right, Fitzroy, you gave her sleep last night, I'll give her support today. Maybe together we can get her through it.
He got her to eat but eventually, when even trying to start an argument failed, he gave up trying to get her to talk.
About noon, Mr. Delgado arrived to ask if Vicki needed a lift to the funeral home. She looked up from where she sat, silently rocking, and shook her head.
"Humph," he snorted, stepping back out into the hall and once again looking Celluci over. "You one of her friends from the police?”
"Detective-Sergeant Michael Celluci.”
"Yeah. I thought so. You look like a cop. Louis Delgado." His grip was still strong, his palm hard with a workman's calluses.
"What happened to the other guy?”
"He sat up with her all night. He's still sleeping.”
"He's not a cop.”
"No.”
To Celluci's surprise the old man chuckled. "In my day two men fighting over one woman, there would have been blood on the street, let me tell you.”
"What makes you think . . .”
"You think maybe I shut my brain off when I retired? I saw the three of you together last night, remember?" His face grew suddenly somber. "Maybe it's a good thing people got more civilized; she doesn't need fighting around her right now. I saw her grow up. Watched her decide to be an adult when she should have been enjoying being a child. Tried to take care of her mother, insisted on taking care of herself.” He sighed. "She won't bend, you know. Now that this terrible thing has happened, you and that other fellow, don't you let her break.”
"We'll do our best.”
"Humph." He snorted again and swiped at his eyes with a snowy white handkerchief, his opinion of their best obviously not high.
Celluci watched him return to his own apartment, then quietly closed the door. "Mr. Delgado cares about you a great deal," he said, crossing the room to stand by Vicki's side.
She shook her head. "He was very fond of my mother.”
She didn't speak again until they were in the car on the way to the funeral home.
"Mike?”
He glanced sideways. She wore her courtroom face. Not even the most diligent of defense attorneys could have found an opinion on it.
"I didn't call her. And when she called me, I didn't answer. And then she died.”
"You know there's no connection." He said it as gently as he could. He didn't expect an answer. He didn't get one.
There wasn't anything else to say, so he reached down and covered her left hand with his. After a long moment, her fingers turned and she clutched at him with such force that he
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