2.2.2. – Leave the Pieces

[whedonist]

2.2.2. – Leave the Pieces

I finally stumble into the precinct. I’m exhausted, it’s nearly noon and the only thing I had to eat since four o’clock yesterday afternoon was half a catfish po-boy from Luizetta’s. I bypass my desk and head straight for the coffee station. Peering in, the only thing that looks back at me is a tar-like ring of something that once resembled coffee.

I bite my lip and resist the urge to cuss the string of expletives that have popped up into my brain. Instead, I turn around, head right back out and dart across the street to a small café. I order a large coffee and a double meat, double cheese sandwich and head back to the precinct.

I should have just stopped before I got in, but I was so excited. We have, or I have, a lead. Two hours at the scene that went from aggravated assault to murder, but there’s finally a lead. I just need to eat and have something in my stomach before I share with Jerry.

I’m not really sure how he’s going to take it. I’m really not sure how I’m taking it. I was supposed to be at the hospital with my mom at nine this morning. That got shot to hell and instead of spending some time with her like I know I should I get to go with my lush of a partner and try to find a few kids that like to beat the shit of the other for the hell of it.

I set my coffee and sandwich down, looking around for my partner. Not seeing him, I sigh and sit down, preparing myself to dig into my sandwich. Unwrapping my food, I lick my lips and prepare myself for the first bite.

The ringing of my phone stops me from taking it and I glare at the offending piece of technology. For the love of God, I just want to fucking have a bite to eat. I sigh and put down my food and grab my phone instead. “Delaney,” I answer.

“Nora?” Charlie, our new medical examiner, answers.

“Hey there, buddy.” I pick up a napkin and wipe my greasy finger tips. “You got anything for me?”

“I do. I was just gonna do a preliminary of the body and found something interesting.” I hear paper crinkling in the back and wonder what he’s doing.

“Alright, you wanna tell me what it is?” I look up and see Jerry come from the back hallway. He gives a small wave and I resist the urge to shake my head.

He looked like shit yesterday. Today he looks like something that shit would shit out.

“Why don’t you come on down and I’ll show you. We can even have lunch afterwards.”

I think about his offer and begin to re-wrap my sandwich. That’s not horrible and it would kill two birds with one stone. “Fine, do you want me to pick you up anything?”

“Nah, the missus packed me a fine lunch. Just bring yours and if you’re really lucky I may even share my pudding cup with you.” He laughs and I smile.

He really is a good guy.

“Alright, give me five minutes and I’ll be there.” He mumbles his okay and I hang up the phone.

“Be where?” Jerry asks as he takes his seat and pulls open his bottom drawer, coming up with a bottle of aspirin and bottle of water.

“Charlie’s got some info to share.” I give him a once over and come up with a plan. “Look, why don’t I head over to the morgue, find out what Charlie’s got for us. I’ll call you when I’m done and fill you in. You can take over for the rest of the day and let me cut out early. I need to get over to the hospital sometime today before my mama does somethin’ drastic like call Thibodeaux and put me on leave or worse, breaks down and finds someone to work some gris-gris.”

He dumps four aspirin into the palm of his hand and knocks them back, chasing it with the bottled water. He nods as he grimaces and swallows the pill and liquid. Once he’s able to speak, he says, “Yeah sure. Call me.”

I don’t give him much else as I stuff my sandwich back in its bag and snatch my coffee from my desk. I’ll fill Jerry in when I call him later. I make my way out of the station house, hop into June and head south on Royal Street. It takes a few minutes longer than I’d like, but I get there soon enough and manage to find a parking spot right in front on Camp. I stick the police placard in June’s windshield and head in.

The Medical Examiner’s office is a four story brick building that looks like a set of apartments. It’s not something you’d think that holds lockers for dead people and lab rats on the first three floors. That’s exactly what it is though. I enter through the lobby and sign in. I head towards the basement steps and follow the well worn path to Charlie’s office.

His door’s open and when I step through he’s talking animatedly to someone on the phone. I allow him a minute to finish his conversation before sitting down. He smiles at me and holds up one finger, signaling his request for patience.

His conversation comes to a close and he smiles at me. “Nora, how’s life?”

I shrug and take a sip of my coffee. “The same. So…you have something for me?”

He nods and takes a chunk out of his three layer sandwich while handing me a file folder. Leaning back into the chair, I open it and find a small stack of eight-by-ten glossies of…tilting my head I try to figure out what I’m looking at.

Charlie must see the confusion on my face as he says, “Those are of the inside of our victim’s colon. You’re looking at two objects. The first one, when removed, is the third photograph in the stack.” I quickly flip to the one he’s talking about and a crumpled Nazi flag is unfolded against a stainless steel tray. “The second thing that was removed was the shell of an M80.” The photo behind the flag shows it’s partially hollowed out burnt cardboard shell.

I swallow trying to resist the urge to vomit.

I look up at Charlie as he chews happily away on his sandwich. My jaw clenches and I breathe through my nose to stave off the nausea.

“When I looked at the body at the scene I noticed some irregularities, but didn’t wanna say anything in case I was wrong. It’s why I looked at the boy the first thing. I’ve got six other bodies stacked in the racks, but for you, darlin’, I went and made this the first of the day.” He sets his sandwich down and leans back, his face grim. “This poor kid took a beating, Nora. He was beat, then raped. From the damage to his throat, I’d say that they forced this kid to perform fellatio then or at the same time, I can’t be sure, sodomized him. After that, they shoved the firework up him and the flag.”

I shake my head trying to get the picture of this out of my mind. Trying to quell the rage and sickness bubbling up. I manage to get out a question, “How’d they…the M80, how’d it get lit?”

Charlie sighs and says, “The paths pretty clear, the fuse was extended and lit outside the anal cavity.”

“So cause of death?” I ask.

“Endotoximia and shock. The kid wasn’t supposed to make it through that. As soon as the lower intestines ruptured, it released millions of bacteria into his abdominal cavity. He didn’t have a chance.”

“How long?” I’m amazed I can manage short sentences at this point. I always wondered what the whole “I’m so mad my blood is boiling” thing was about. I get it now.

“He may have lasted a minute. My estimation is less. The shock would have masked the pain and then he would have had at the most five minutes.” He sips his juice box and says, “I’ve got my guys in the lab running all the tests. It’s going to be a few weeks before you get any DNA information back, but I can at least have the histological and hematological reports back to you sometime tomorrow. We’re also runnin’ tox screens and the like.”

“Links?” I manage. I was trying for something different. I hope he understands.

“I’m trying to rush. See if the semen that was found in the anal cavity match what we could harvest from the esophagus and stomach. I’ll let you know, Nor.” He smiles at me. It’s warm and sincere. It’s completely out of place for the information he just gave me.

I nod. I look at the sack of food containing the sandwich I brought with me. The idea of eating nearly accomplishes what Charlie’s detailed findings didn’t. I toss the bag of food in the waste basket by his desk.

Who needs to eat anyhow?

I stand and hand him back the file he gave me. He shakes his head and says, “I made you a copy. I’ll courier over a complete one by tomorrow morning. Take it.”

I nod and say, “Thanks.”

Turning I have my hand on the door, but his voice stops me, “Nora, this kid, the I.D. puts him at nineteen years old. It’s obvious how much he suffered. You will find the S.O.B.’s that did this and when you do, give’em a kick to the kidney’s for me.”

I turn back and offer a weak smile. He grins at me and winks. I open the door and shuffle out. I make my way out of the building, shoulders slumped and way more tired than when I went in.

---

I hand the nurse back the phone and thank her for its use. With Jerry filled in on some of the latest findings, I at least can trust him enough to start looking for the pieces to the puzzle, and do so in the right direction. I drag my weary ass to the bank of elevators and ride them up the four flights to my father’s room.

This really isn’t something that I’m looking forward to. I know that it’s something I need to do, but since…well since my entrance into the force, there’s this wall that’s been building brick by brick between me and my family, or at least me and my parents. My brother's I don’t see much of, Patrick took off to join the Marines, no doubt he’s crazier than horse shit – and I know for damn sure the service didn’t help him none. Terry’s got a job with the National Guard and is stationed in Baton Rouge. He comes home for the holidays and the occasional birthday. Bobby’s the only one I got left in the area and we’re okay. He’s just now graduating the academy and is more green than the ones my mama cooks for family dinner.

At twenty-seven my mom can only seem to focus on me “settling down” and she doesn’t seem to see that, that just isn’t me. I straighten my back and prepare myself for the upcoming confrontations. None of my brothers are here today even though both Terry and Patrick have come in on a small leave from their jobs. I’m the only still actively working.

I stride along the east corridor of Tulane’s Cancer Center and hope that I can be spared, even just a little bit today. I find my father’s hospital room and knock on the closed door before peaking my nose inside. My mother’s stoic, Irish features smile grimly at me.

“Nora, dear. Come on in. Your daddy and I were just talkin’ about you.” She rises from her seat next to the bed and pulls me fully inside. I close my eyes briefly before taking in the man lying in the bed. There are two monitors hooked to his chest with pads, one I.V. sticks from the back of his hand pumping in a weird yellowish substance, the other I.V., the one they call a ‘Central Line’ sticks out from the internal jugular vein on the right side of his neck.

He smiles at me weakly and motions for me to come sit down on the other side of him. My mother lets my hand go and I move to the right side of his bed and offer a light kiss on his cheek. Taking the brown plastic chair, I scoot it closer and take my father’s hand. He gives a light squeeze in return.

We both turn our attention to mama as she says, “Nora, you look absolutely dreadful. When’s the last time you got some sleep.”

I sigh. Gee thanks mom. I love you too. Instead of the sarcastic remark that would usually get me into trouble, I shrug. “A day or two ago. Jerry and I caught a case that went from serial beatings to murder. I’ve been working non-stop since early this morning.”

Her head tilts to the side. “You get called out while you were asleep?”

I shake my head. “I was at home,” I lie, “but not asleep.”

She clucks her tongue in a way that shows her displeasure. She’s become a master at that over the years. When my brothers and me were growing up, she’d just come out and tell you. Now, since we’re all grown, she clucks.

It drives me up a wall. Her sayin’ something one way or the other would be preferable to the clucking she’s mastered.

“Mama,” my Daddy rasps, “I’m sure our little girl could use a cup of coffee and maybe something to eat.”

I watch her blonde head nod in agreement, as she leans down and reaches for her purse. “I’ll just run down then and grab something from the cafeteria.” She pats his hand and kisses him on the forehead. “You want me to pick you up a bit of that cherry-slushy thing you like?”

He nods and she turns to leave the room. We both watch as she shuts the door behind her and both of us relax a bit.

My father breaks the silence and says, “I swear I love that woman to death, but sometimes she just don’t know when to leave well enough alone.”

I laugh a little and he smiles. “You know, pitit fi, she ain’t changed that much since we started dating forty years ago. She’s still the spit fire that I fell in love with.”

“Daddy, I don’t think she ever will change. That woman will probably outlast us all.” I squeeze his hand and my joke sends him into a coughing a fit. The monitors pick up a bit until he finally manages to regain his composure.

“I have a sneaking suspicion you may be right.” He takes a moment and regains his breath, slipping the oxygen mask down to cover his nose and mouth. I watch as condensation builds inside of the clear plastic shell.

A few deep breaths later and he removes it. His grip tightens on my hand and he stares me in the eye. “Nora Marie,” he rasps and I do an internal groan. The man only uses my full name when I’m in trouble.

Shit.

“You and I need to talk,” he says, “I’m gonna say this first ‘cause it’s the most important.” He pulls down his mask and takes a deep breath before removing it. “I love you. That won’t change. So take what I gotta say to heart. I know what you are Nora Marie.”

I blanch and he sucks in more oxygen.
“You,” he continues removing his mask, “didn’t listen to me when it came to that woman, Ann. The force don’t like queers. There was one I knew of a bit before I retired.” He pulls more oxygen in and continues, “When the boys found out, they made his life so hard, he ate his service revolver in the locker room.”

I try to let go of his hand, but he holds strong.

The mask is brought to his face once again and afterwards he looks at me, his eyes full of sorrow. “I don’t rightly know if you can change what you are, but I’m tellin’ you now, you don’t let a soul know. Your family in blue will stick by you in most cases, but depravity such as the one you’ve chosen, will not be tolerated.”

My jaw clenches and I resist the urge to flee.

The mask drops and he pushes, “Not only do you keep your private life private; you protect that woman that’s spent most her life with this aje moun.” He takes the masks and sucks in a deep breath.

Once he’s finished, the mask comes up and rests on his forehead. He grips my hands and forces me to look him in his eyes, “I couldn’t stand anything happenin’ to you. You promise me, Nora Marie Delaney, you tell no one. Especially your mama. Don’t break her heart, like you broke mine.”

I keep the tears at bay; I keep my grip frim and nod my agreement. My head swims and I feel like I’ve been dropped into the middle of a life that isn’t mine. I can’t wrap my head around what he said. What he asked.

His mask slips back over his nose and mouth as my mother comes in carrying a tray of drinks and a white paper bag. I stand quickly, letting go of my father’s hand. “I need…sorry, but I need to go.” I rush out of the room and down to the bank of elevators. I jab the down button and pray that it comes quickly.

The sound of my mom’s voice calling after me lets me know it wasn’t quick enough.

Fuck.

“Nora,” she says, “Here, at least take the coffee and donuts.”

She thrusts them into my hand and the doors open. I stumble into the elevator and hit the lobby button with my mother staring at me in wonder.

As the door slips shut, I lean against the back wall and rest my head, close my eyes and allow a few tears to escape.

---

I squint and look at my computer screen, trying to figure what kind of bullshit I’m reading. Of all the inane, fucked up things I’ve seen as a cop, researching Neo-Nazi groups in the greater NOLA area has probably been one of the most.

I reach for my cup of tar and take a sip. Wincing as the hot, thick liquid burns my throat. At least it wakes me up a little.

It’s been four days since I’ve been home, three since I’ve seen an actual bed. The three hours I’ve caught here and there in the crash room aren’t really working for me, but Jerry and I are close to finding this group of sick slime bags.

After the death of Josh Lebron, we went back and re-interviewed Ryan and Chris, our first two victims. After getting them to admit that they were gay and they thought the attacks were because of their sexuality, it got a little easier.

All three were at a local gay dance club in the Quarter. All three had gotten separated from their friends and all three were assaulted. Josh Lebron was our first death. The other two were lucky. I sigh and Jerry looks up from his stack of paperwork.

“What gives, Delaney?” he asks.

I shake my head and lean back in my chair. “I just can’t believe that some people actually believe this shit. And it really is utter shit.”

He leans forward and smirks. “I ain’t sayin’ that what they did was right, but take a look around. Where are all are problems? The Blacks and Mexicans are all nuthin’ but a bunch of low-life drug runnin’, welfare livin’ lowlifes. We see it day in and day out. And queers,” he scoffs and shakes his head.

I’m about to retort, but my phone rings and I snatch it up, thankful that there was some type of interruption before I shoved my fist down my partner’s throat. “Delaney,” I snarl into the line.

“H…hello?” the small voice on the other end of the line says.

I take a moment and soften my voice, “Yeah.”

“Hi, Detective, this is Courtney,” the voice gains a little more confidence and I remember where she’s from. “You said to call if I heard anything.”

“Hi Courtney,” I smile genuinely for the first time in two days and say, “I did, you wanna talk?”

“Well, I do, but I don’t wanna meet. Can I just tell you over the phone?”

“Sure thing.” I grab a pen and piece of paper.

“Well,” she starts, “I was in English class and like, Nick and his buddy, Steven were talking right. Their always together, they think they’re like God’s gift to the human race or whatever, but that’s like beside the point. You were talking about Chris Moore gettin’ hurt and I liked Chris. He’s a funny guy and he helps me out in Chemistry.”

I pinch the phone between my shoulder and ear and lean back in my chair. This is going to take awhile.

“Anyhow,” she continues, “Like I was just sitting in English talking to Leah about the Prom when I overheard Nick and Steven whispering about how they gave it to that fag.” She stops and gathers her breath. “I mean, like, I know it’s not much, but they both run with a few older boys and they were like all mean stuff to some black kids at our school. I know Nick shoved Chris around at lunch one day. Called him some stuff.”

I jot down some of the things that she said and make note of the names. I flip open a folder and look over a list, spotting the two names of the kids she was talking about.

“So Detective, does that help, ‘cause I really wanna help.” The rattling on her end lets me know Courtney switches the phone to her other ear.

“You did, Courtney,” I placate her and then ask, “Do you think that if you had to, you would testify?”

She stammers a second and then says, “Yeah I guess. Will I get to be on T.V.?”

I smile again and say, “I dunno, but we’ll do what we can.”

“Cool. Then yeah sure. Why not, right?”

“Alright, look I need to go and follow up on some things, but you just helped us out a lot. Thank you.” I say my goodbyes and hang up the phone.

“Delaney!” my captain shouts from his office doorway. “Get your scrawny, Irish ass in here, double time.”

Sighing, I shake my head and wonder why he couldn’t have just stayed in the military instead of becoming a cop. I make my way over to his office and he motions me inside. I shut the door and he says, “What the hell are you doing here?”

My hands rest petulantly on my hips and I say, “My job, Sir.”

“Delaney,” his voice softens just a tad and he shakes his head. “Your father’s funeral is tomorrow. You should be at home. You should be with your family. Give me one good reason why I don’t kick your ass out of here and send you on leave for a few days?”

My jaw clenches and I bite the inside of my cheek. “Because working keeps my minds off of it. I got two aggravated assaults that are turning into hate crimes and a murder that was motivated by sexual orientation. I just got a lead and sending me home now would be a complete fucking waste of both of our times,” I spit.

He sits back in his chair and looks me over. “Is Tombridge incapable of handling this?”

I snort and fold my arms across my chest. “With all due respect, Captain, but the only thing that partner of mine can handle is a fifth of whiskey. It doesn’t help the fact that he’s just been sitting across from me sympathizing with a bunch of Neo-Nazi, homophobic pieces of shit.”

His eyebrows raise in mild shock.

I run my fingers through my hair and try for a mildly softer approach. Let’s face it throwing your partner under the bus isn’t a way to win friends and influence people. “Look, just let me make this collar and I’ll go home.”

“Fine,” he barks. “You and I are gonna have a talk about that partner of yours when you get back from your days off.”

I nod and ask, “We done?”

He nods and I don’t bother to say another word. I head out of his office, stop by my desk and grab my thin leather coat. “Let’s go Jer. I want to collar some boneheads.”

---

The amber liquid distorts the bar underneath the glass as I stare down into the tumbler. The music is soft and melancholy tonight. I think the girl spinning the disks has dedicated tonight to Nina Simone. For some reason I’m thankful. The bar has a light crowd and I’m slumped over in my stool. I’ve got my dress uniform on. The clean white collared shirt pressed, my tie hangs a little loose, my jacket takes up residence on the barstool to my right, where my hat rests on top of it.

A woman comes up to my left and slides a pack of Marlboro’s over. I look over and see Casey’s friend, Victoria smiling at me.

“You look like you need it, Officer.” She winks at me and then saunters away.

I shake my head and recognize the irony. Doesn’t mean I don’t give in. I pull a cigarette from the pack and tap the butt against the bar, packing it a little more. I slip the butt between my lips and then there’s Casey, a lighter in hand, wearing that smirk.

I want to tell her to fuck off, but I don’t.

“One ain’t gonna kill you, baby.” She flicks her thumb and lights my cigarette. Leaning forward, she leans into the gray-blue smoke that I blow from my lungs. “You should go home.”

I shake my head and knock back the rest of my drink. Her hand comes up from behind the bar and she’s refilling my tumbler before I say a word.

Her smile is soft and flirty. It promises me comfort and understanding. These are the things I need the night of my father’s funeral.

After I left that hospital the last time, I thought about giving Casey up, I thought about denying the person inside of me and I thought about living the lie that I’ve sold my mother.

I can’t deny who I am.

I can lie to my mama. I will continue to lie to her. I’ll keep that promise to my father. I’m still not sure which one will land me a place in Hell quicker though, the lying or my choice of bedmates.

In the end, tonight, I can’t seem to really give a shit.

I won’t give up the things in this shit world that make me happy. Tonight it’s the five-foot pixie that tends bar at one my favorite jazz clubs.

I polish off the fresh glass of bourbon and finish off the cigarette. Casey’s there again, refilling my glass and running her hand over mine, squeezing it reassuringly.

I smile at her and ask, “You gonna be done soon?”

She nods. “Eddie’s cashing in and then I’m golden.”

I nod and she scurries off to fill another drink order.

I finish the fourth glass of bourbon and know I’m pushing the limits. Spinning on the stool, I look at the dance floor. Couples sway gently to the music. They have these normal lives. These things that I know I’ll never get.

Some day’s it’s okay. I can accept that.

My jacket and hat appear to float in front of me as Casey stands before me in a mid-thigh skirt, ripped tank top and knee-high boots.

“Come on, sugga, let me take you home and put you to bed.” She plops my hat on top of my head and throws my jacket over her shoulders.

I let her grab my hand and lead me out of the club. I may never have normal and my family may never know the truth, but for tonight, like everything else, it’ll have to do. It’s a choice I’ll live with.

Next>>>

Comments

[wkgreen.livejournal.com]

Wow, that certainly explains why Nora is in the closet. Very intense.

Waiting for more! :)

[whedonist]

Thanks for reading. There's more coming, we'll get to see more of Nora next week. =0)

[thejollyape.livejournal.com]

Just read through the entire series (so far) and I'm enthralled. Solid backstories and complex characters and all of it makes perfect sense.

I find myself eagerly soaking up every chapter and even though at first I was anticipating their actual meeting, I'm now just anticipating more. Very enjoyable.

[whedonist]

Wow, *blushes* thanks! We've got more on the way...again thanks for the kind words. Take care and thanks for reading.

[pbwr.livejournal.com]

I'd fallen behind on this story but this part made me glad I caught back up--very good.

The scene of Nora with her father had me hurting for her. He couldn't have just said "hey I'm dying I just want you to be happy"

and the case is very timely for Nora's soul searching. Looking forward to more.

[whedonist]

Glad to have you back. I hope you enjoy what's coming up and thanks for the feedback.

[writerghost2000.livejournal.com]

I love to see how each writer interprets Nora's reason for staying in the closet. I think we all share a fair portion of the same feeling.

[whedonist]

We do and I think that's one of the most interesting quirks of the character, for Nora to appear as strong as she is, but to not at least be out to family struck me as...odd. There had to be a really good reason behind it. That's where my brain went.

Thanks for the comment and for reading.

[ttandme69.livejournal.com]

petit fi...love it...merci beau coup...lisa

[whedonist]

Thank god for a creole dictionary! =0) and thanks for the consistent comments.

[ladyhawkcc.livejournal.com]

:o( Poor Nora. How can her father ask something like that of her. It isn't fair.

Thanks for this wonderful story. I was having kind of a down day today. You know one of those that every little thing just gets to you, but then I came home and saw you had updated and it made my day, so Thank You! Thank You! Thank You! I can't wait for the next installment.

[whedonist]

Thank you for reading and the really flattering comment. I hope you enjoy what I have coming up.

Take care and enjoy the weekend!

[nemodoryismyido.livejournal.com]

awesome story and whew, I feel bad for NOra and yet I can easily see the progression as the story and the events flowed so well!!! Thanks for the story and sooooooo waiting to see how you bring the two together

[whedonist]

thanks for the consistently kind words and encouragement. I also promise you won't have to wait that much longer.

Thanks again!

[revolos55.livejournal.com]

Wow, I wanna give Nora a hug