Title: A Case of Murder
Author: Bluebirds_sings (Tina)
Genre: AU/AU
Pairing: Jack/Ennis
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: the characters belong to Annie Proulx; no profit from this
Feedback: yes, please! Your comments are the fuel to my writing :-)
Summary: Ennis is a detective who is investigating the murder of a retired professor. He has a witness for the crime, a certain Jack *fucking :)* Twist.
My heartfelt thanks, as always, to dear Beth (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
bcatjr) for her huge and astounding work as beta.
Chapter SEVENTEEN
CHRISTMAS GIFTS
Index:
1. ONE NIGHT, AFTER DARK http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/41
2. A SPARKLING
3. THE WORLD’S GREATEST LOVER http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/91
4. CRUSHING A BUG http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/10
5. A PUZZLING GUEST http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/11
6. NOISES IN THE
7. RANDALL MALONE http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/14
8. OVERCOMING DOUBTS http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/15
9. ON THE WINGS OF A KISS http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/15
10. PARKER’S NEAT HOUSE http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/16
11. UNWELCOMED DUTY http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/17
12. A BRUISE AND A BUTTON http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/18
13. JOHN TWIST http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/19
14. A HARD TRUTH http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/20
15. WHAT A DIFFERENCE A DAY MAKES http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/21
16. THE DAY OF THE TRIAL http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/23
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Chapter SEVENTEEN
CHRISTMAS GIFTS
PART ONE: http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/24
- Mood:
bitchy
today
Chapter SEVENTEEN
CHRISTMAS GIFTS
PART ONE
The place used to feel comfortable to Jack. Fine ornaments, blue china, silver candelabra, antique furniture, old master’s paintings and colorful lithography, all used to speak to him of a good job and an unruffled life. It had been a long trip since he’d shrugged off his father’s callousness but Jack had finally gained the contentment he wished for. Still, his art shop wasn’t feeling like home anymore, nor could Jack reckon that he was going to be happy here ever again. In fact, he was wondering if he was ever going to be happy again at all.
What am I supposed to do now? Angst was rising in the back of his throat, memories of Ennis threatening to choke him.
- Mood: bitchy
today
Title: A Case of Murder
Author: Bluebirds_sings (Tina)
Genre: AU/AU
Pairing: Jack/Ennis
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: the characters belong to Annie Proulx; no profit from this
Feedback: yes, please! Your comments are the fuel of my writing :-)
Summary: Ennis is a detective who is investigating the murder of a retired professor. He has a witness for the crime, a certain Jack *fucking :)* Twist.
My heartfelt thanks, as always, to dear Beth (bcatjr) for her huge and astounding work as beta.
Index:
1. ONE NIGHT, AFTER DARK http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/41
2. A SPARKLING
3. THE WORLD’S GREATEST LOVER http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/91
4. CRUSHING A BUG http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/10
5. A PUZZLING GUEST http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/11
6. NOISES IN THE
7. RANDALL MALONE http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/14
8. OVERCOMING DOUBTS http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/15
9. ON THE WINGS OF A KISS http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/15
10. PARKER’S NEAT HOUSE http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/16
11. UNWELCOMED DUTY http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/17
12. A BRUISE AND A BUTTON http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/18
13. JOHN TWIST http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/19
14. A HARD TRUTH http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/20
15. WHAT A DIFFERENCE A DAY MAKES http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/21
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Mr. Parker _ a retired professor who lived in the penthouse suite of a four story building on
Mrs. Bridges _ an elderly lady who seems to have heard a gate clicking in the night.
Mr. McKentzy _ that night heard a car roaring away.
Jack Twist _ who lives at n.17
Cassie Cartwright _ an officer at the same police district of Ennis
Mrs. Collins _ married to a construction engineer who got along well with Parker, used to invite him for dinner two or three times a year. Then, about five years before, he started to turn down the dinner invitations, saying that he was planning to have a friend living with him. A friend they never met.
Randall Malone _ the operative special agent that escorts the witness Jack Twist in his commuting, who is openly gay and frequents the Blue Bear Café, a gay friendly bar in Abbey Road.
John Twist _ left the falling down ranch he grew up on when he turned twenty for a job in town. After having made good money selling second-hand cars and repairing their engines, he married and had his only child: Jack, with whom he doesn’t see eye to eye. He is a member of The Bull Rider.
Richard Landon _ the friend that introduced Parker to The Bull Rider.
Lawrence Daniel Newsome _ president of The Bull Rider, owns Bronco, a winner bull, and wrote an official note to ban Parker and Landon from the club.
Joe Aguirre _ the janitor who takes care of the building in front of the one in which Parker lived. He called the police early the next morning to report the murder.
Chapter SIXTEEN
the day of the trial
http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/23
- Mood:
cheerful
today
Chapter SIXTEEN
the day of the trial
A gust of chill wind blew through the risen collar of Ennis’ raincoat as he took the last few steps toward the Court.
The early December sun wasn’t providing him with much warmth. The bright memories that he conjured, that were circling endlessly around in his mind weren’t helping in warming him either.
The events of the last two months were marred by several unanswered questions about what really happened the night of the murder, but the ones that mattered the most to Ennis were those revolving around Jack. The fact that these ones were going to remain unanswered haunted him deeply.
( Read more... )
- Mood: cheerful
today
Title: A Case of Murder
Author: Bluebirds_sings (Tina)
Genre: AU/AU
Pairing: Jack/Ennis
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: the characters belong to Annie Proulx; no profit from this
Feedback: yes, please! Your comments are the fuel of my writing :-)
Summary: Ennis is a detective who is investigating the murder of a retired professor. He has a witness for the crime, a certain Jack *fucking :)* Twist.
My heartfelt thanks, as always, to dear Beth (bcatjr) for her huge and astounding work as beta.
Index:
- ONE NIGHT, AFTER DARK http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/41
81.html - A SPARKLING
59.html - THE WORLD’S GREATEST LOVER http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/91
50.html - CRUSHING A BUG http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/10
635.html - A PUZZLING GUEST http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/11
853.html - NOISES IN THE
789.html - RANDALL MALONE http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/14
533.html - OVERCOMING DOUBTS http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/15
224.html - ON THE WINGS OF A KISS http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/15
801.html - PARKER’S NEAT HOUSE http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/16
215.html - UNWELCOMED DUTY http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/17
656.html - A BRUISE AND A BUTTON http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/18
224.html - JOHN TWIST http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/19
058.html - A HARD TRUTH http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/20
326.html
Chapter fifteen
What a difference a day makes
Jack looked out his shop’s window, his gaze drawn to the blur of people rushing by. All the commotion that he used to see as pointless felt reassuring today, as if it could be a safe cocoon against the ambush of the man whose identity he still didn’t know, and most of all an assurance that life was going on as usual. Morning had drifted to afternoon, and was now giving place to evening. Even the rhythmic shifting of the neon light that had him wincing in annoyance every time he looked at the bookstore across the street now felt lulling, like a welcome sign that time was flowing and bringing him closer to meeting with Ennis again.
- Mood:
frustrated
today
Title: A Case of Murder
Author: Bluebirds_sings (Tina)
Genre: AU/AU
Pairing: Jack/Ennis
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: the characters belong to Annie Proulx; no profit from this
Feedback: yes, please! *makes puppy eyes*
Summary: Ennis is a detective who is investigating the murder of a retired professor. He has a witness for the crime, a certain Jack *fucking :)* Twist.
My heartfelt thanks, as always, to dear Beth (bcatjr) for her huge and astounding work as beta.
To make up for my delay in posting I present you with the cast of characters we already met in the story, hoping it could be of use.
CHAPTER FOURTHEEN
A HARD TRUTH
Ennis was slowly making his way down the austere police department corridor, his mind unfocused and exhausted from dragging information out of Jack’s father, and even more so by bearing the weight of the very kind of information he acquired.
Knowing that Earl Parker had been banned from the Bull Rider’s Club only because they had found out he was gay, was much too close to Ennis’ personal life to be simply annoying, it was deeply disturbing to him. Ennis couldn’t stop thinking on Jack, couldn’t stop the sweet memories of the needy tangle of tongues and limbs that were filling all his senses. Nor could he deny that nothing in the world meant more to him than the thing that was starting to grow between them.
( Read more... )
- Mood:
happy
today
Title: A Case of Murder
Author: Bluebirds_sings (Tina)
Genre: AU/AU
Pairing: Jack/Ennis
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: the characters belong to Annie Proulx; no profit from this
Feedback: oh yes, I like it!!!
Summary: Ennis is a detective who is investigating the murder of a retired professor. He has a witness for the crime, a certain Jack *fucking :)* Twist.
My heartfelt thanks, as always, to dear Beth (bcatjr) for her huge and astounding work as beta.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
JOHN TWIST
Ennis glanced up from his small table and out the window of his apartment to see if the winter daybreak fog was shifting. Looking at the misty sky made his thoughts wander once more to Jack, who he supposed was going out at the moment, walking along buildings and streets that were of a same dreary shade of grey, doing his morning commute with Randall in tow. Heaving a frustrated sigh he resumed his digging into the stacks of paper on his table.
( Read more... )
- Mood:
content
today
Title: A Case of Murder
Author: Bluebirds_sings (Tina)
Genre: AU/AU
Pairing: Jack/Ennis
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: the characters belong to Annie Proulx; no profit from this
Feedback: oh yes, I like it!!!
Summary: Ennis is a detective who is investigating the murder of a retired professor. He has a witness for the crime, a certain Jack *fucking :)* Twist.
My heartfelt thanks, as always, to dear Beth (bcatjr) for her huge and astounding work as beta.
Dedication: Fridayblues kicked my butt to make me write something longish, so I made up my mind and tried to write a short AU/AU one-shot from Ennis POV. Then Beth (bcatjr) urged me to turn it into a multi-chaptered story. The result of my efforts is dedicated to them both.
To Carole (bmshirts).
While dealing with my grief, I’ve dug into Carole’s comments to my stories and found this line.
Speaking about Jack’s last moments she said, *I hope when it was finally over, he'd found the peace and love denied him in life.*
To find peace and love in the embrace of those ones that life took her away, is what I wish her as well, from the bottom of my heart.
For us, I wish that her loving and strong spirit will stay forever in the community.
CHAPTER TWELVE
A BRUISE AND A BUTTON
Leaning against the frame of his bedroom door, Jack let his thoughts wander a little.
Earlier, it had taken him only one minute to get out of bed, as he was already well awake and mentally replaying at least a thousand times every single gesture Ennis’d done the evening before. It took him as much as thirty more minutes though to take a shower, since he couldn’t stop sliding his hand fast along his throbbing dick at the same time as his mind was fantasizing about all the odd and intense feelings Ennis had given him, while working him into bliss.
- Mood:
sad
today
today
Title: A Case of Murder
Author: Bluebirds_sings (Tina)
Genre: AU/AU
Pairing: Jack/Ennis
Rating: very mildly rated NC-14
Disclaimer: the characters belong to Annie Proulx; no profit from this
Feedback: oh yes, I like it!!!
My heartfelt thanks, as always, to dear Beth (bcatjr) for her huge and astounding work as beta.
Dedication: Fridayblues kicked my butt to make me write something longish, so I made up my mind and tried to write a short AU/AU one-shot from Ennis POV. Then Beth (bcatjr) urged me to turn it into a multi-chaptered story. The result of my efforts is dedicated to them both.
A very special dedication today is to our beloved Heath.
I’m overcome by emotions right now. Anyway, I just wanna give you the links to some verses I already posted on different days but that I wrote during the same, sleepless night: the very first one without him. If you haven’t read them yet and feel like having a look, I’d love to have your comments on them as well as on the new chapter, of course. Hugs all around.
Your Voice: http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/21
Rest: http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/39
CHAPTER TEN
PARKER’S NEAT HOUSE
Ennis was feeling dizzy and oddly alone in his own house, now that the night was giving place to dawn and the hot wave of desire, burning so high when he kissed Jack, was subsiding to a memory.
- Mood:
nostalgic
today
Title: A Case of Murder
Author: Bluebirds_sings (Tina)
Genre: AU/AU
Pairing: Jack/Ennis
Rating: very mildly rated NC-14
Disclaimer: the characters belong to Annie Proulx; no profit from this
Feedback: oh yes, I like it!!!
My heartfelt thanks, as always, to dear Beth (bcatjr) for her huge and astounding work as beta.
Dedication: Fridayblues kicked my butt to make me write something longish, so I made up my mind and tried to write a short AU/AU one-shot from Ennis POV. Then Beth (bcatjr) urged me to turn it into a multi-chaptered story. The result of my efforts is dedicated to them both.
CHAPTER NINE
ON THE WINGS OF A KISS
Jack heard the low rumble of a pickup pulling into the parking lot, and he couldn’t help a huge foolish grin when he spotted Ennis coming forward, then ringing the bell at his door.
“I was waiting for you,” Jack said, swinging the door open. A gust of wind blew his hair every which way.
Following him into the apartment, Ennis brushed past him, his warm brown glance lingering on him way longer than on anything else around them. “Am I that predictable?” he asked, a tinge of amusement in his voice.
“It’s the fourth evening that you’ve come by, bringing with you pics of potential suspects. So yes, you are,” Jack countered rather pleased, losing himself into the sight of Ennis’ soft blondish curls. Those curls that made him seem so young when he was relaxed. And relaxed he looked just now, smiling his little shy smile, remnants of daily light dancing in his eyes.
When Ennis walked into the living room and threw down his black folder filled with snapshots and notes, Jack told him about his conversation with Valerie McKentzy.
“The chat was general enough, but as it proceeded, I felt more and more uneasy, as if she was fishing for information,” Jack said, sighing as he glanced at Ennis, who cocked an eyebrow at him and listened attentively, holding in one hand some papers he took from the office. Then pensively Jack added, “Don’t know, but by the time she bought the cigar box and left, I felt as if her husband’s outline could fit the figure I saw against the streetlamp that night.”
A muttered, “Huh,” followed by a companionable silence was all the contribution Ennis provided to their talk. But the caring attention that Jack felt embracing him, and that he knew was Ennis’ special gift for him, helped him greatly to gather his thoughts. So, when Ennis slid a glance in his direction, Jack asked in a low voice, “Did you ever find out who called the police telling them what had happened?”
Jack felt like it took ages for Ennis to answer, so he added dejectedly, “I know I was supposed to do it myself, but I didn’t. And I know that it’s pretty odd, but I was like paralyzed with shock. Not scared by the murderer actually, not simply petrified at what I saw, but overwhelmed by an uncontrollable flow of all the worst memories I had stored at the back of my mind from long ago. It simply seemed that I’m not yet done with my father and his hatred.”
Ennis stepped toward him, gaze so troubled that Jack felt as if he were searching for his inner pain and maybe try to heal what Jack’d been trying to hide for so long.
They stood in silence for a long moment, Ennis tenderly cradling Jack’s cheeks in his open palms. “Don’t you worry none, Jack,” he murmured reassuringly, “the medical examiner says the man died almost instantly. The force of the hit severely damaged his skull, knocking him unconscious as he fell to his back. Even if you had called, by the time an ambulance could’ve come along he’d had already drowned in his own blood.”
Confused and hurting, Jack couldn’t adjust to the idea of this man dying alone, his life ended by a guy who hated him so much to do something that neither him nor anybody else could undo anymore. There was something in the shock Jack’d had that night that was rooted in his childhood. He could almost hear in his head his father’s snorts of contempt, almost see his stony stare, his gestures of deprecation that constantly led to slaps. As a boy, Jack’d never been able to speak his mind, or to throw a punch back. And now, as a grown up, all those memories morphed into the helpless, silent plead he saw in Parker’s eyes.
Jack was shaken from his thoughts at Ennis’ pensive sigh. “Who called the police, anyway?” Jack asked again, calmly, while Ennis was brushing his cheeks with warm fingertips.
“The janitor who takes care of the building in front of the one in which Parker lived. He called us around six, as soon as he went out to sweep the sidewalk and saw the corpse,” was Ennis’ plain answer. Then he added, a note of concern in his voice, “Stop upsetting yourself, Jack.”
Taking a sharp breath, Jack couldn’t do anything but whisper. “I’m sorry, Ennis. It’s the only thing I have been thinking on.”
Ennis nodded. Then, as if he were concerned by the silence, he grumbled, “What’s the deal with your father, anyhow?”
Jack’s hand lingered for a moment, tracing a line on Ennis' shoulder. “He hates my guts. Always did,” he said, lowering his eyes and searching for the right words. “No matter what I did, he always yelled at me for something I might have missed. Or beat me for something I might have done different.”
Ennis hesitated, as if waiting for him to add something. Then with confidence he insisted on asking, “But why? How could he?”
Jack, who usually delighted in friendly chatter, found it really hard to unfold these memories that he’d struggled with and had kept buried for such a long time. It was hard for him to say what he needed to say. He was well aware of the imagined charm that a fatherly figure had to Ennis, who didn’t know what it was like to have a father in his life since that car wreck, that had taken his parents so many years before, when he was just a little child. Ennis had to have felt helpless that day, when someone came and told him that an accident had swept his previous life away. The same as Jack felt helpless for thousands of times in front of his father’s anger. So he was sure that it had to be tough on Ennis to realize that sometimes parents could make their children unhappy living as well as dying, and he had to summon all his courage if he wanted to explain to Ennis why his father’s rage made him seem like some monster to his young self, until he grew up and finally got tired of trying to make things work with the old bastard.
Moreover, in order to make clear what it really was all about with his dad, Jack needed to come out to Ennis. He needed to tell Ennis the truth in any case, or he was sure he’d be regretting that choice sooner or later. Up until a few days ago, pretending to be something else with Ennis seemed to be the best choice. Pretending that his feelings weren’t there so he could keep their friendship safe. But now, it had become harder than he ever expected it to be.
Tonight it wasn’t an option anymore.
So, with trembling lips he admitted his secret. “Ennis, I’m gay.” His voice faltered as he searched Ennis’ face for a reaction, his mind heavy with worry. “My father never acknowledged it. Always fought me, either thinking it was my fault or being afraid that having a son such as me was a shame to him. That me being this way made him less than a man.”
To his surprise, Ennis took his speech in quietly and in his gaze, Jack found a loneliness that matched his own. So he reached out with shaky hands and touched Ennis’s face.
Very slowly, while keeping a tight hold of Jack’s back, Ennis lifted his face. Jack’s thumb rested lightly on Ennis’s jaw. Jack lost himself in brown, soft eyes. Then his lids became too heavy to stay open. His lips played slowly and softly with warm, surprisingly full and wet lips of the man before him. Then Ennis kissed him back. Their lips crushed together and Jack’s throbbing crotch pressed and rubbed against Ennis’s own. Jack could feel the heat coming from Ennis and they kissed again, sweet moistened tongues sealing their first bright moment of bliss.
Jack slowly broke the kiss, and with a large smile, glanced at Ennis.
There was so much going on between them, so many feelings that Jack felt certain that Ennis had to learn how to acknowledge them. But, in the meanwhile, Jack would cherish this moment and take it in. He said in a soft, purring voice: “It’s alright, Ennis. It’s alright.”
Ennis stood with an almost childlike expression on his face while Jack’s heart was thumping madly. “Well,” he said faltering but smiling, his face flushed, “You’re gay and maybe me, too. Maybe. Don’t really know, Jack. It’s the first time I…” he tried to explain, Jack hearing the quiver in his voice for what was happening between them.
“I know,” assured Jack, needing Ennis so badly he didn’t know how to stand it if he was ever to slip away. “You need time to work things out. That’s alright.”
They ended up sitting and talking while they drank some whiskey. Jack twisted the glass around with his fingers, Ennis silently sipping.
The fire crackled in the fireplace while they looked over the pictures that Ennis had brought. Ennis was watchful and thorough, so much so that he asked Jack to look them over again a second time. Some half an hour later, when looking revealed nothing interesting or new to the investigation, Jack asked Ennis to a movie.
* * * * *
Darkness and noise gave Jack the opportunity to softly whisper remarks about the crappy story on the screen, Ennis’ short answers bringing puffs of warm breath to his ear which made it tingle. The narrow seats kept them close to each other, a nearness that Ennis seemed to appreciate as he lingered affectionately on Jack’s arm. Their hands constantly touched some spot on the other’s arms or legs. Jack’s hand drifted to Ennis’ thigh, and Ennis offered Jack a knowing smile, not moving his leg away.
Jack’s mind was a ball of emotions when they left the theatre and silently walked back towards Jack’s house. When they said their good-byes, Ennis simply stared into the dark with the unconcerned and far-away look of someone who was sailing through still waters after having survived a dreadful storm.
He ambled away without another word, Jack holding onto the sweetness of their newly shared intimacy.
TBC
- Mood: cheerful
today
Title: A Case of Murder
Author: Bluebirds_sings (Tina)
Genre: AU/AU
Pairing: Jack/Ennis
Rating: very mildly rated NC-14
Disclaimer: the characters belong to Annie Proulx; no profit from this
Feedback: oh yes, I like it!!!
My heartfelt thanks, as always, to dear Beth (bcatjr) for her huge and astounding work as beta.
Dedication: Fridayblues kicked my butt to make me write something longish, so I made up my mind and tried to write a short AU/AU one-shot from Ennis POV. Then Beth (bcatjr) urged me to turn it into a multi-chapters story. The result of my efforts is dedicated to them both.
chapter 1 - one night, after dark : http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/41
chapter 2 - a sparkling fire: http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/63
chapter 3 - the world’s greatest lover: http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/91
chapter 4 - crushing a bug: http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/10
chapter 5 - a puzzling guest: http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/11
chapter 6 - noises in the darkeness: http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/13
chapter 7 - randall malone: http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/14
CHAPTER EIGHT
OVERCOMING DOUBTS
The streets that twisted their way towards Sheep Flock Lane were a maze of narrow roads, already a bit crowded at about half past eight in the morning. Walking down one of them, Jack followed Malone, looking inquisitively at this policeman who was escorting him. His regular face, with curly blondish hair and thick beard, seemed that of a man you could trust.
“Oh, I see,” he said vaguely, politely answering Malone’s lame chat.
This guy was a big, good-humored man for all Jack could see. And a good-looking guy: a muscular man, who walked briskly and seemed to frown very rarely. He was friendly enough, even if there was something about his friendliness that rang odd to him. His demeanor was cheerful as he was trying to impress him bragging about some previous exciting event that turned out well thanks to his nerve, but then he was making too much of a fuss of his protective role against the bad guys and he smiled amiably at him with suspiciously high frequency. If Jack’s instincts were right, he was almost… gallant. That made Jack wonder if maybe he actually was more interested in men than in women.
As soon as he became aware of his own thoughts, Jack decided that it wasn’t his business. But he found this way of thinking oddly annoying. He was gay, after all. And perhaps it should be his business, since he was very much alone these days. At first, he urged himself to believe that Randall was among the people he, as a mere matter of taste, didn’t much want to be familiar with. Except that lying to himself was generally difficult for Jack, and even this time he failed right away.
Many dark years had followed Jack from that ride on Larry’s bike, when he got, loud and clear, the message his body was sending him and he learnt the hard way what being gay meant. Too many years had passed to try and fool himself now. Casting one more glance over at Randall, he was certain that this guy didn’t deserve his dislike.
Jack shook his head having to admit that he was putting the truth off, instead of confronting it head-on. And the truth that he obviously couldn’t avoid was that he had fallen head over heels for Ennis, just in the short, sporadic time he had spent with him. Fighting his longing for him seemed more and more futile with each passing day. Jack knew all too well that the night before, Ennis had aroused his interest and much more than that. In a beat of heart his entire world had been turned upside down, yet Ennis went away without saying a word about what transpired between them and had left him alone. But, nonetheless, this morning his greeting had been affectionate. So, who says that you don’t stand a chance with your handsome Casanova? Jack scolded himself, torn between doubts and hopes.
As Randall spoke, turning corner after corner, his deep voice echoed in Jack’s ears making him ache for a lower, more rumbling voice; one that could be so tender and wrap his soul in an enduring embrace without even knowing it.
Sighing deeply, Jack acknowledged that he couldn’t help it. He was going to be foolish enough to let his heart take the lead and try to believe that in no time, he and Ennis would get closer.
It had taken him until age thirty-four to finally find a man who interested him so much to risk it all: the difficulties, the heartaches and whatever else to be okay with himself. Thinking back, he knew there had been a time when he should have been braver. He should have challenged the other boys’ bad words to him and he should have stood up to his father’s mistreatment of him, instead of putting up with his father’s disdain when he’d been figured out. But he was way too young then, didn’t have the mental strength to do that.
Then the time came to be on his own, which meant lots of lonely nights, thinking about what he’d done -being out to his parents and trying to be honest with himself- often wondering if it really had been the right thing to do, or if it had been useless, as he was alone.
Jack tried to cope with his discomfort. He seldom went on dates, and every time he was to meet somebody, he tried to tame his distress with a mantra of, “it’ll be all right.” Each time, at last, all he could think about was getting it over with. But now he was beginning to feel as if he could ride a raging bull, like those his father loved so much. No matter how many kicks he’d have to endure in life, these days he was sure he could try and reach for happiness. And happiness couldn’t be found in pretending. He had learnt it by now, after those few casual encounters and as many disappointments. It was only in the real thing. It was all inside the golden brown gaze of the one who had deeply touched his soul.
He and Randal kept walking till they passed a small antique bookstore arriving at Jack’s own shop, where shiny crystal lamps and small china statues greeted them from the shop window.
Randall lingered, gazing at those valuable knick-knacks. He seemed unwilling to leave but Jack didn’t return the sentiment and agreed to meet him again at half past seven in the evening, when he’d close his shop.
A kid was sitting on the front step of Jack’s shop, playing: collector cards scattered all over the step. As soon as they approached, startled, he rose up hastily collecting his stuff. The little boy stared at them, a glint of embarrassment in his eyes, most likely being shy. But to Jack it was almost as if the kid had feared them yelling at him, and Jack felt like his own young self was mirrored in this kid’s discomfiture. Too many time he had silently asked to be spared being forced to do something he would avoid instead, only to have his father bitching or mostly slapping him.
It hadn’t always been that way. One of the very first memories Jack had of his life was of his father playing rodeo with him, helping him to ride a rocking horse that he judged huge and frightening. He marveled at his dad’s ability to swing and turn the stuffed horse and trusted his strong arms to be safe on saddle. But these happy times lasted only a few years, than all turned into misery and troubles, into spanking and grounding. His father grew so angry with him that one night, as he pissed himself in bed, he beat him within an inch of his life. “Pansy ass! You don’t even know how to use your dick.” Jack was about four at the time, but he could still hear his father hissing those words before hitting him. The words even more painful than the blows.
The son of a bitch put the blame on me for being a faggot even before I could understand what being male or female meant. So damned simple for him to judge, to condemn, to despise me. Jack shrugged trying to rid himself of these thoughts, only wondering why all these memories were coming to him so frequently these days. No mystery in this, he scolded himself. In fact it was simple enough: these days he was once again upset and insecure, having witnessed what he had witnessed and having Ennis so close and yet possibly out of reach.
After a few minutes of thinking, he got distracted by the front door opening. An extremely blonde woman entered the shop.
“Howdy, madam,” he said absent-mindedly. But as soon as he greeted her, he realized she was Valerie McKentzy. She and her husband lived in the neighborhood, their house had one of the largest gardens on
“Good morning, Mr. Twist,” Valerie said incredibly chirpy.
“Hello, Mrs. McKentzy. Sorry I didn’t recognize you, think I was daydreaming,” he said with a large smile.
Mrs. McKentzy shook her head, “never mind,” she answered good-naturedly. “I’m looking for a Christmas present for my husband. I know it’s quite early in the winter, but I hate having to do my shopping at the last crowded minutes.”
Jack didn’t even know the name of her husband, but tried to summon some memories of him. “Doesn’t your husband smoke cigars, Mrs. McKentzy?”
“Oh yes, at least once a day after diner. It’s a habit he got into before we married, never could talk him into stopping,” she said more for the sake of conversation than because she really was annoyed by Mr. McKentzy’s routine. So Jack suggested a cigar box as a present. “Here you go, you can choose between silver, cherry wood or ivory boxes,” he told her, gesturing to a series of small containers he kept on a shelf.
She looked at them with mild interest, but her eyes begun sparkling as soon as she said, “This is a terrible thing to have happened to poor Mr. Parker, don’t you think?”
Seemed Jack was going to have a conversation about the murder whether he liked it or not. This was perfectly clear, so he answered resigned, “Oh yes, Mrs. McKentzy. Terrible, indeed.”
Emboldened despite Jack’s bored answer, she hastily added, with mock indifference, “I heard you saw the corpse before they carried him away. I’m afraid it must have been a great shock to you.” Her dark eyes lit up with childish excitement as she finished talking.
Valerie’s behavior was at complete odds to everything that had happened that night and Jack marveled at her knowing that he’d seen Parker’s body. Might she know as well that he saw the murderer in the face? No way, by now she would be dying to tell me, he mused. Not if her husband were the man I saw that night. Jack turned pale as soon as the thought took shape.
He tried to call to mind a clear picture of the murderer. His build could fit that of McKentzy, as Jack registered with alarm. All of a sudden he wasn’t so sure anymore that he could recognize who the man was right away. At the same time, testing further his memory, Jack could recall that the murderer hadn’t hair as thick as McKentzy had.
But a lock on the murderer’s forehead was curly plus the man had a moustache and both features fit.
Yeah, but McKentzy has coppery hair, while those of the murderer were dark. And what if the streetlamp simply didn’t allow you to see well enough? Now Jack was really confused and somewhat dismayed.
Taking a closer look at the silver box, Valerie went on. “When I left the house quite early in the morning there was already a little crowd and the police was there. Mr. Parker’s body had been removed by then, but a large red stain was still fresh on the concrete.” She put the silver box down on the counter and leant forward conspiratorially. “Who knows who was the first to see poor Mr. Parker there and call the police?”
Was she fishing for information? “Have no idea, Mrs. McKentzy. I’ve heard nothing about it,” Jack answered politely. But suddenly he wasn’t interested anymore in making sure if it was nosiness or being an accomplice that was driving Valerie McKentzy’s conversation. In fact her words hit him hard, a threatening bundle of insecurities and regrets growing inside him.
That night, seeing that poor man beaten to death had brought up old memories, putting Jack in a mind-set that was most numbing. He felt as if he would fall apart. Oblivious of the time passing, he spent hours lost in far away recollections of the punishments his father inflicted on him as a child, fighting hateful ghosts evoked by experiencing fear again after so many years. Gritting his teeth, he felt as helpless as the victim must have felt. And what if his life could’ve been saved, had I called an ambulance? I really am a good for nothing fuck-up. Bet dad was right on that one. Now, Jack couldn’t stop rebuking himself cause of what he did, or better cause of what he didn’t do.
Jack hadn’t call the police. A pale sun had already risen among the cold mist when he’d heard cars roaring by with sirens but still into some sort of a trance, he hadn’t bothered to look out the window. He’d slowly gone back to the kitchen and had poured himself a cup of black coffee, waiting for the panic attack to subside. Waiting till the coolest official ever came and pounded on my door. Thinking about Ennis soothed Jack, making him momentarily forget all his previous worries.
“Don’t you think this silver box is lovely?” Valerie said, shaking Jack out of his reverie.
“Sure thing, Mrs. McKentzy,” he nodded, smiling, and reached into his desk drawer for a sheet of paper with his art shop brand on it.
As soon as Valerie McKentzy left his gallery, Jack let his gaze wander over the painting of
TBC
- Mood: peaceful
today
Title: A Case of Murder
Author: Bluebirds_sings (Tina)
Genre: AU/AU
Pairing: Jack/Ennis
Rating: very mildly rated NC-14
Disclaimer: the characters belong to Annie Proulx; no profit from this
Feedback: oh yes, I like it!!!
My heartfelt thanks, as always, to dear Beth (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
bcatjr) for her huge and astounding work as beta.
Dedication: fridayblues kicked my butt to make me write something longish, so I made up my mind and tried to write a short AU/AU one-shot from Ennis POV. Then Beth (bcatjr) urged me to turn it into a multi-chapters story. The result of my efforts is dedicated to them both.
CHAPTER SEVEN
RANDALL MALONE
The late-October wind had begun to pick up. Leaves were drifting through the air while Ennis went down
As it turned out, Malone was the only operative special agent at their district who wasn’t stuck on some huge patrol and could take the task of protecting Jack’s way to and from the art shop; a circumstance that Ennis’d rather avoid if only he could. In fact, the tidbit of information that he gained by chance one evening, while having tea in a café, was enough to leave him uncomfortable every time he had to interact with Malone. And enough to make him greatly dislike not having any other choice in finding someone to watch out for Jack. Being himself the one to lead Jack to make the man’s acquaintance, and possibly becoming friends with him, had Ennis feeling deeply unsettled, even if he was trying hard to ignore the very reason of his aversion.
That one evening, Ennis was walking up
Looking out at passers-by, Ennis’s wandering glance had come to rest on the familiar shape of Randall sporting a thick beard, brown hair, and a broad face. He was standing at the corner on the other side of the street, smoking and apparently waiting for someone. He had just taken two or three puffs of his cigarette when a guy had come up to greet him.
Ennis had a moment to wonder why his colleague was there. As he watched Malone and the other man cross the street and enter the very café in which he was sitting secluded in a corner, he wondered if his colleague was looking after some people who had something in common with the case Ennis himself was inquiring into. After they entered, they had sat far from his table, taking no notice of him engrossed as they were in their conversation.
For the first two or three minutes, Ennis could hardly tell what was happening. Every now and then the other guy would chuckle and give Randall a glance and it seemed as if Randall couldn’t stop from returning his own and smiling back. Then, all of a sudden he saw them kissing and he realized that he had to face an unexpected, and clearly embarrassing truth. Startled, he hastily scanned the place. He couldn’t believe he had entered such a place without knowing, but now there was indisputable evidence that the Blue Bear Café was a gay friendly bar.
Ennis’s train of thought derailed. He sank down further in his seat, blanching, as he looked around: people seemed to be conversing and laughing and enjoying themselves, while it seemed his world was just a blurry shadow. Afraid of someone possibly hitting on him, he hurriedly left and went out again into the pouring rain.
From that point on, every time Ennis had to work with Randall he felt awkward. At first, what bothered him the most was that Randall could have seen him being there. Rumor could spread that he was… that way. He froze at the very idea. So he paid great attention to Randall’s behavior, searching for signs that he knew that he was at the Blue Bear and might think that he was gay. He never found any, but what begun to strike him was that this guy seemed to be an ordinary fellow. He couldn’t stop asking himself how could this man be such a reliable colleague and still be queer as a two dollar bill. How could he be strong, steadfast and dutiful at work and then, in his free time, date a guy, take him to a café, and kiss him?
Ennis felt a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach thinking on it. The more he conjured images of them kissing the more he felt the hair along the nape of his neck stir with the awkwardness of it all, and his groin stir with an indefinable need.
He had spent several years convincing himself that he wasn’t as eager to date as the other boys because he was shy and not because he wasn’t interested. But after that chance meeting with Randall, the glimmer of doubt had unavoidably come to mind. So Ennis surprised himself with some alarming, disquieting questions. Wincing with embarrassment, and against his better judgment, he forced himself to put those questions aside unanswered. Till he met Jack.
Spending time with Jack made something open up inside him. Collecting his thought in the darkness of his room at night, he felt that the silence seemed to be rather oppressive and full of anxiety than merely empty and quiet. He got upset knowing that Randall was peacefully living his own life, even if it was another man he was in love with. In the meantime he was afraid that he would never be able to overcome the shame working in his soul, afraid he wouldn’t ever be clear with his decisions as Randall seemed to be.
Now, while walking toward Jack’s place, Ennis was playing with all these thoughts when Randall addressed him trying to impress. “Well, I have seen plenty of violence in my early career. You never know when to expect the suspect to show up again. Maybe at dusk, unless he is too frightened to wait,” he said emphasizing his words with a sharp nod. Ennis fought the urge to shake his head and smile at his words: Randall was a vigorous and alert man, he had the right mix of skills to be a fine special agent with operative tasks and one could trust him to jump on each single detail with total dedication, but he could never be able to see the whole forest beyond the single trees. He had neither the tactics nor the strategies of a chess player. Just the qualities Ennis had and valued best.
But then, is it worth fretting over moves that are in the future instead of focusing on the ones that are here and now? ‘Make long time plans and don’t be ruled by your dreams’, that’s always been my golden rule, I know. But what if my precious plan turns out to be just ‘don’t lose your game’, simple as that? Not such a clever approach in the end, as it means just having no strategy at all. What if Randall’d let the shame to be considered any less from people who know he likes men rule his life? He wouldn’t move his chess piece out of fear of losing his game, and the match would be lost already. Maybe he’s right after all: play your game a single move at a time, without putting the horse before the cart. Ennis thoughts swirled around in his mind. Getting to consider his brand new rule, he gave out a husky groan.
“What?” Randall asked and Ennis shrugged, pretending it was the wind that bothered him. But his mind didn’t stop. Why won’t you just trust life enough to let it be, to let yourself simply sail through hopes and dreams without any blueprint for the long haul? Before Ennis’ mind could acknowledge the stuff of which his hopes and dreams were made, and register the image of affectionate blue eyes glancing at him or the feeling of soft trousers and firm ass rubbing against his crotch, he went on thinking. Well, since I like to play games so much in my head that might confront possible threats, how about trying to play a checkmate on Randall and see how he acts in response?
Ennis felt himself in a sort of trance. At last his lips moved and he muttered, “What does your wife think about your job? Or is it a girlfriend you have?”
Brown confused eyes met brown inquiring ones. For an instant they both remained silent, then Randall answered in a level voice. “No girls in my life to worry about me. I’m gay,” he admitted half-smiling. “I thought you knew it.”
Ennis blinked. So, did Randall see him at the Blue Bear that night?
Ennis followed Randall in silence, staring down at the ground. “What do you mean?” The question was on his lips before he could take it back. How could Randall dare think… Ennis felt himself burst, feeling that his question to Randall had backfired on him and now he had to explain himself, to clarify how things really went, to deny him being queer, a possibility he couldn’t help considering hardly tolerable.
“A lot of people at work know it, although I doubt it is any business of theirs,” Randall said with a smile.
Letting loose the fear that he had held in, and along with his breath, Ennis was taken aback. He had completely misjudged this guy. Hiding the fact of being queer clearly wasn’t a priority in the main game that was Randall’s life. Ennis couldn’t help but admiring this guy for his self-confidence and friendly demeanor. Randall would tell someone plainly that he was gay as if it weren’t a big deal. And maybe it really wasn’t, after all. Then why am I pretending so much to be somebody else? He hadn’t the time to contemplate the thought, startling at its consequences, because he found himself in front of Jack’s door, having to introduce Randall to him.
He looked at Jack lifting his head and turning to him when he introduced Randall. Being unaware of his own relief, Ennis sighed contentedly taking in the sight of Jack who looked slightly annoyed while greeting Malone.
“Alright, let’s go,” Jack said to them, standing with his back to the door. Then, after locking it, he took Ennis’s arm. His hand seemed awfully pleasing to Ennis, who let Jack pull him nearer. Grudgingly prepared to leave, they said their goodbye leaning briefly forearms and shoulders, Jack so near to him that Ennis felt puffs of warm breath over his cheek, a lock of Jack’s soft hair sweeping his forehead. For a split second Ennis’ world stopped spinning. Fuck Randall for looking at them. Fuck him for possibly thinking that he had a right to be at the Blue Bear. Better still: Randall knowing that Jack was his and forbidden ground.
A few heartbeats later, Ennis was kicking at the ground, annoyed, while looking at Jack and Randall walking away together, talking. His gaze followed them for some moments, noticing that Jack seemed okay with the arrangement, a flow of lively chatter going on between the two of them as they walked on down the street. He smiled in spite of his jumpiness.
Passing the corner of Jack’s house, the last on the street, Ennis walked down the lane and found himself in front of the big park, where the man who’d tried to enter Jack’s house the night before had disappeared. A mess of soft leaves and bare trees in the chilly autumn air greeted him as he entered by the first gate and walked along, still confused by his own thoughts.
Finding a bench, he sat for some minutes, despite the cold autumn weather. He felt like an island in the sea of leaves that swirled around him in all kind of colors, shades from light brown to heavy crimson. An island beset by stormy weather, as he was overwhelmed by the whirlwind of thoughts assailing him. It was ridiculous, what he was thinking, that he could be as blatant as Randall was, that he could ever be out as a gay man. Recognizing his own feelings and acting on them? Impossible.
For the first time in his life, Ennis craved sailing towards uncharted seas. Now it seemed that he’d never had any day really brilliant in his life, a day worthy of repeating if he only could. Nobody had ever enlightened his existence as Jack was unconsciously doing these days.
Ennis pictured in his mind’s eye Jack’s shape, the fine figure he liked so much even if there seemed no reason for it; no reason other than… having a crush. Ennis froze helpless, then braced himself and let the memories of the night before surface in his mind. Being near Jack was pure bliss. Having to deal with something unfamiliar like this was the last thing he wanted, but how could he deny that when they leaned upon each other, his heart and body were both mad with anticipation?
This was an unexpected, startling and yet exciting discovery Ennis was making. He stood stunned, shaken with his own anticipation of how things could build up with Jack if he wasn’t unwilling to give it a try. The wind was blowing with less force now. Perhaps it was going to get warmer once the day progressed.
TBC
- Mood: amused
today
Title: A Case of Murder
Author: Bluebirds_sings (Tina)
Genre: AU/AU
Pairing: Jack/Ennis
Rating: very mildly rated NC-14
Disclaimer: the characters belong to Annie Proulx; no profit from this
Feedback: oh yes, I like it!!!
My heartfelt thanks, as always, to dear Beth (bcatjr) for her huge and astounding work as beta.
Dedication: fridayblues kicked my butt to make me write something longish, so I made up my mind and tried to write a short AU/AU one-shot from Ennis POV. Then Beth (bcatjr) urged me to turn it into a multi-chapters story. The result of my efforts is dedicated to them both.
CHAPTER SIX
NOISES IN THE DARKENESS
Having Ennis here with him made Jack’s evening feel rather pleasant and thoroughly enjoyable. His handsome guest, wearing a soft wool red sweater and his blond halo of soft curly hair framing his face, was now drinking a second cup of coffee.
“Ennis…” the name echoed as the most pleasant sound in the world to Jack’s ears. And the warm brown eyes that met his gaze were the most fascinating thing on earth as far as Jack was concerned. “It must have been a long day, what about something for dinner?”
Ennis’s little doubtful frown made him look almost childish. “Uhm –can you manage…”
“Ennis, I’ve made meals for myself since I came to live in this house –five years ago,” Jack scolded playfully, then added on second thought with a beaming smile, “well… tell you what, I can’t cook worth a shit. But I’m pretty good with a can opener.”
“Can’t be no worse than me then, friend,” Ennis countered promptly, clearly enjoying himself.
Friend. It seemed to come so easy on Ennis’s lips, and honestly in Jack’s mind it was the most that he could ever expect. Making an effort not to show his feelings, he spoke with an unemotional voice. “While I try and make some soup, do you mind telling me what’s the matter with your case?”
Jack’s question made Ennis hesitate a moment, his soft gaze landing on the curtain at the window in an attempt to focus his attention.
“So, it’s only been five years that you’ve been living in this neighborhood, uhmm?” Ennis’s remark was spoken distractedly as the information Jack asked him to convey was of no importance. So Jack took it as a sign that he wasn’t all that interested in his own investigation at the moment.
It felt good to think that Ennis was engrossed in his past and wanted to hear more. Thus Jack nodded and said with a smile, “Yes, my uncle Harold helped me move in. He taught me almost everything I know about the art dealership as well. He was my mom’s brother. A great man, if you ask me; at least cause he despised my father.” Jack’s lips turned upward at his joke, but he couldn’t help a chill in his voice, nor he could repress a small shiver, full of his suppressed anger towards his father.
“I see,” Ennis said thoughtfully. Clearly he registered Jack’s icy mind-set as far as his father was concerned and wasn’t ready to dig more in such a painful subject. In fact, he simply murmured a further question. “So you never noticed any change in Parker’s behavior, did you? I mean, I’m thinking about this conversation I had with that neighbor of yours. That Mr. Collins, you know, the engineer whose wife is a chatty box. They live only a couple of blocks away from the building where the murder happened.”
“If you ask me, Parker has always been an old bear,” Jack said, chuckling wholeheartedly. The painful thoughts about his father totally dismissed by staring at Ennis.
“Well, for the last few years I think your description fits. But I can quote you Collins’ exact words,” Ennis stopped, trying to remember, “All of a sudden, he said, about five years ago, he started to turn down our invitations. Then his wife added that he’d been friendlier in the past. She also assumed that of late he had a tenant. Did you ever see someone living with him?” He added, considering that thought for a moment.
Jack shook his head in surprise. “I’m more than a little doubtful about it,” he answered.
It seemed that Jack’s notion reinforced Ennis’s own from the way he nodded. “Did this fellow vanish into thin air, or was he only a figment of Stella Collins’ imagination after all?” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than for Jack’s benefit.
Jack took on his distress and tried to elaborate further. “If he does exist, then in my opinion it’s a fairly reasonable conclusion that the circumstances under which he and Mr. Parker met were not quite pleasant, if he wanted to hide the fact that he ever lived there.”
“This makes him the perfect potential murderer, of course,” Ennis went on.
“Simple like that?” Jack asked in dismay. “Then you have already figured it out and in a few days you’ll catch him and close your case.” Jack was sure that the disappointment was written all over his face, but he was too distressed to care. At the moment, all that mattered to him was the he was going to lose Ennis very soon.
Ennis must have noticed his frustration as he gave a mocking chuckle and countered: “I doubt you’ll get rid of me that easy.”
Jack felt immediately warm inside.
“If you’re serious, anyway, you should try and look for Parker’s will. I bet he left everything he had to this Mystery Man,” he said half-jokingly, getting involved with the mystery.
“So you don’t believe that Parker was broke?” Ennis asked right away.
Then he rose to follow Jack to the kitchen voicing his doubts. “You don’t think that the woman could be right? I mean, in a certain sense you said something to that effect yourself when you told me Parker acted weird.”
Jack shrugged raising his hands. “I’ve no idea, Ennis. No idea at all. All I know is that he once was a member of a club my father still belongs to. Then, one day, I asked him why he left and he said he’d had a nasty experience with the Club a few years back. He told me that they wanted to be rid of him, said it apparently without any indignation or distaste, just said it with a bit of poorly hidden impatience. Didn’t even give me any hint of what the reasons were.”
Ennis was quiet, folding and re-folding the hem of a napkin absentmindedly.
“Well, now I guess that while you deal with your can of worms I can deal with a can of beans and some stew,” said Jack jokingly, while busying himself with a large pan.
After a while, taking care of their meal by mixing the food from time to time, Jack found himself standing close to Ennis. He was near; so near that it was damned hard for Jack to breathe steadily as he was surrounded by the musky scent of Ennis’s body. He turned his back to him, afraid of giving his mind-set away and at the same time not willing to take even a single step away from him.
“Make hay while the sun shines, my mum used to say. Maybe I’d better ask around some more about this mystery guy,” Ennis whispered at Jack’s shoulders, stretching his neck over him to smell the scent rising from the pot.
“No sun out there, right now. You’d better relax and enjoy your meal,” Jack heard his own voice saying and then it happened: the timeless moment that Jack was dreading and longing for at the same time. He couldn’t say if it was Ennis who leaned into him unaware, or if their bodies were softly drawn to each other. It was less than embracing, but way more than bumping by chance; it felt warm, and sweet and right.
Jack cast himself into the caring cuddle. And Ennis slowly slipped his arm around his chest, resting the other hand on his hip, almost nuzzling his neck. As he drew nearer, Jack could hear him humming an old childish song about a lazy cock sleeping in a barn throughout summer dawns. A merry song that even Jack knew, having learnt it a good many years before, but Ennis’s husky voice made it stirringly sexy.
Overwhelmed with sensations, neither of them took notice of the dull sound of something hitting the door, till the same noise was heard again, louder than before.
“What’s that?” Ennis asked startled, taking a step back. Jack woke up from his reverie, turning toward him. His crotch bumped briefly with Ennis’s, not enough time to register Ennis’s eyes closing shut, or his own heart beating faster.
Then, Ennis ran outside in a flutter. He looked in agitation out on the long, dim road and saw a figure in the shape of a big, dark dot wrapped in a large scarf. “Who are you? Stop running!” Ennis yelled out of breath. A matter of seconds and the phantom was gone. Ennis scanned the road, then went back into Jack’s house.
“Did you see who he was?” Jack asked him, standing at the window.
“No, it was too dark. I didn’t see him well,” he answered.
Jack was surprised at Ennis’s anxiety as much as from what happened. “Not a big deal, anyway. Just a rock that hit the door, I suppose,” he said with a smile. But Jack’s attempt to lighten the mood got lost on Ennis, who countered frowning.
“It is a big deal, Jack. For what I could see before he disappeared behind the barrage of trees and shrubs over there, that man was tall and fat, as you said the murderer was. You might be in danger. I’m going to put one of my men to protect you,” he ended unhappily.
Jack looked at him in faint surprise. “Ennis, I don’t need protection! Firstly I’m not sure at all that the man you saw was the one who killed Mr. Parker. Besides, it was dark in the house while I stood at the window that night and the murderer had the streetlamp on his face, so I don’t think he saw me. Moreover, I’m well protected already: tonight I turned off the alarm cause you were here, otherwise it’s always on when I’m alone. And I have another very reliable one at my shop, as I keep there a bunch of precious items.”
“I don’t know, Jack. Anyway, you’re not going to commute without a guard. Sheep Flock lane is in the middle of a labyrinth of alleys and dead ends. Tomorrow morning I’ll come here before you leave, bringing with me the colleague who’ll take the job.” The look in his kind eyes seemed rather dejected, even if it was all settled now.
“Well, this solves the whole problem,” he said giving Ennis a glass of red wine that he accepted with obvious relief. “Damn, I’m starving,” Jack added smiling, trying to dismiss his own bewilderment in front of what happened.
They sat and ate their dinner in companionable silence. The mood was predictably ruined, but Jack felt safe sitting by the fireside, comfortably resting near Ennis. He let out a long breath like a sigh he didn’t know he was holding.
TBC
- Mood:
flirty
today
Title: A Case of Murder
Author: Bluebirds_sings (Tina)
Genre: AU/AU
Pairing: Jack/Ennis
Rating: PG (at least for now)
Disclaimer: the characters belong to Annie Proulx; no profit from this
Feedback: oh yes, I like it!!!
My heartfelt thanks, as always, to Beth (bcatjr) for her huge and astounding work as beta.
Dedication: Fridayblues kicked my butt to make me write something longish, so I made up my mind and tried to write a short AU/AU one-shot from Ennis POV. Then Beth (bcatjr) urged me to turn it into a multi-chapters story. The result of my efforts is dedicated to them both.
chapter 1 - one night, after dark : http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/41
chapter 2 - a sparkling fire: http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/63
chapter 3 - the world’s greatest lover: http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/91
chapter 4 - crushing a bug: http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/10
CHAPTER FIVE
A PUZZLING GUEST
His house was neat. The façade was a pale yellow and the small lawn was well taken care of with skillfulness and love. The inner walls in the living room were white, and held a walnut dresser and a square table with four chairs. The bedroom was painted a pale blue, and was furnished with a cupboard, a nightstand and a solid bed.
The whole place showed a quiet strength that fit well with the owner. And here the owner was, sitting at the table in his living room trying to persuade himself that he was gaining useful insight on the case at hand, reading the notes he had scribbled day in and day out since the investigation started.
Ennis knew that a few sentences written in a simple way couldn’t do justice to a man’s life, but knew that they might help do justice to his sudden death by leading him to the murderer who stole his life. So, following the row of notes on the paper with a finger, he examined once again each annotation he took about this disquieting case.
The growing isolation of Mr. Parker’s life made it easy to investigate the few relationships he‘d had. He seemed to have been a shy and withdrawn individual, so it had taken Ennis just a few days to explore the man’s life, seeing him as a poor retired professor instead of a beaten and broken body found on Colombo Street.
Assessing each bit of information Ennis had, he felt he was gaining a quite satisfying picture of this ordinary guy’s life and the main point was that the man hadn’t had any resentment towards anybody.
Yet, during one of the three times Ennis revisited the neighborhood to take and compare information, he met a chatty woman married to a construction engineer, who lived on the other side of Colombo street not far from the house of Mr. Parker. She had given him some interesting facts that might point to a twist in the straight, plain road of this man’s life.
By instinct, Ennis felt encouraged in carefully listening to Mr. and Mrs. Collins’ remarks, as Mr. Collins’s job had to do with the building of bridges and viaducts while Mr. Parker had taught mathematics for many years. So Ennis bet the two men would have gotten along well, even if Mr. Collins was at least ten years younger than the other man. In fact, the guys surely shared their interest in the tricky process of formal reasoning: Parker being fascinated by seeking out abstract patterns of numbers ruled by simplicity and beauty and Collins seeing math as a friendly tool to use in overcoming problems while projecting constructions. But then as it turned out Mr. Collins wasn’t a big talker, his wife on the contrary seemed so anxious to help with the investigation that Ennis thought what she really cared about was the excitement of having the chance to help out the police, not bothering to keep a check on the accuracy of her information.
“We try to be friends with all our neighbors,” Mr. Collins said. “So, we used to invite Mr. Parker for dinner two or three times a year. Then all of a sudden, about five years ago, he started to turn down our invitations.”
“He told us he was feeling poorly,” Stella Collins continued when her husband stopped speaking, shaking her head. “Said he was growing old and feared having a stroke or something while being alone, so he was going to put up with a friend. This guy and Mr. Parker were going to take good care of one another, as he told us. Of course, we invited him to bring his friend along, but it never happened. Anyway, while he was talking, his eyes were telling quite a different story. Both my husband and I thought he was lying,” she said, looking dubiously at Ennis. “At a guess,” she added, almost whispering, “the most likely reason to have this guest was that he was paying him rent. Mr. Parker sure had to have been awfully short of money to have decided on having a tenant.”
The conspiratorial way in which the woman told her story made Ennis smile at the time. But now he was rethinking the whole situation, trying to make sense of it all. Jack had told him that he sensed that there might be some problems in this man’s life, although he couldn’t name them. Maybe being broke was the main reason.
“Damned if I know,” he said out loud, breaking the silence. Living alone, he was used to brooding and confronting problems with noisy curses. Usually, he liked the soothing quiet that answered his angry remarks, but since he met Jack Twist the silence echoing around the walls of his house had turned from comforting to annoying, without Ennis even taking notice of it.
He waved aside the image of blue eyes and soft, black hair and dwelled on the thought of going back to ask Mrs. Collins some more questions, but then immediately dismissed it. She surely had a good deal of notions about her neighbors, but all them were related to something she hardly saw or something she barely heard. And the outcomes of her reasoning were reached using a logic so lame that only she knew the odds paths her mind followed. In spite of it, she reported her fancy conclusions as pure objective facts.
Ennis wondered then if it would be useful to go back once more to Mr. Parker’s house and see if he could collect some evidence hinting to the presence of this mysterious roommate.
He already went to inspect the murdered man’s house, being standard procedure, while the coroner ended his investigation examining the inside of the house of the victim, even though the murder had happened out on the street in front of the man’s house.
* * * *
Ennis walked inside Mr. Parker’s house the day after he questioned the neighborhood, the day he met Jack for the first time. By now, he was so accustomed to having Jack mingled in his thoughts that he didn’t mind anymore.
Parker’s house was tidy but impersonal, so much like Ennis’s own home. When he went there, Ennis stood still a moment looking around and his eye caught on an ornate lamp on an Empire writing desk –a fake one, Jack would surely add, Ennis teasingly mused. Some open newspapers were sticking out from the stack of papers on it, but there were no personal pictures either on the desk, or hanging on the walls. Ennis looked around some more, checking for something unusual but found nothing at all. To him, it looked like an ordinary house of an old man who lived alone; very similar to how he pictured his own house would be when he himself was going to be at that age.
So thinking about someone living there, other than old Parker, was puzzling. Very likely, Mrs. Collins’s imagination had a big part in all this. However, he decided to check things over again, out of duty.
Or maybe… before that he would pay a visit to someone that could be of some help…
Jack thinks that Parker often felt uncomfortable with his neighbor, sparing himself the trouble to stop and say a word with acquaintances on the street. I wonder if he could relate Parker’s withdraws into close walls with him being uncomfortably short of money as Stella Collins says. On the other hand I wonder if he knows something about this mysterious friend of Parker, although I don’t think so, because he never mentioned him to me. Maybe he could find a connection with a person he had seen around, or with an event of some kind which took place there.
It was late in the afternoon. Ennis pondered on going to Jack’s art shop, at No.14 Sheep Flock lane, one of the narrow, winding roads of the old part of town, where shop windows were so bright and full of glittering things that one could be satisfied with just looking at them. But he could keep me waiting, because he might be busy. Maybe this isn’t the right time or place to have a friendly talk. Better wait and meet him later at his place. Ennis hesitated, embarrassed and more than a little baffled by his own thoughts.
Why on earth would I want to be friends with this guy, anyway? Ennis asked himself, not for the first time. I never had time for friendships. Not at the ranch, when I was still a boy, with the winters passing doing chores that the place needed so bad, or during the summer months tending to the cattle and horses, harvesting and threshing. Not even now when I‘m always dealing with unfinished business and the never ending developments on so many cases. I‘ve always felt making small talk was the hardest thing to do, and besides, I always hate being in the spotlight. I like my own company and don’t want to be bothered with the trivialities of social interaction. Friendship‘s never been my thing, at all.
It was an hour and a half later and detective Del Mar was sitting down on Jack Twist’s sofa, looking into the fire crackling in the fireplace, smiling, suddenly in a remarkably good mood.
TBC
- Mood:
tired
today
Title: A Case of Murder
Author: Bluebirds_sings (Tina)
Genre: AU/AU
Pairing: Jack/Ennis
Rating: PG (at least for now)
Disclaimer: the characters belong to Annie Proulx; no profit from this
Feedback: oh yes, I like it!!!
My heartfelt thanks, as always, to Beth (bcatjr) for her huge and astounding work as beta.
Dedication: ![[info]](mhtml:http://83.224.70.134/83.224.70.66/multipart/20080918/16/52/prinston-girl93.livejournal.com_1_4fb1a76e3b9168e40cad70618faf965e.mht!http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
fridayblues kicked my butt to make me write something longish, so I made up my mind and tried to write a short AU/AU one-shot from Ennis POV. Then Beth (bcatjr) urged me to turn it into a multi-chapters story. The result of my efforts is dedicated to them both.
chapter 1 - one night, after dark : http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/41
chapter 2 - a sparkling fire: http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/63
chapter 3 – the world’s greatest lover: http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/91
CHAPTER FOUR
CRUSHING A BUG
Wandering through Jack’s gallery, Ennis seemed to be gazing into vacancy. He liked old masters’ paintings of country sceneries well enough, but these highly modern canvas’ displaying spirals, splashes of color and indecipherable shapes had him dumbfounded. Luckily, not all the drawings in the art shop were futurist or whatever you like to call contemporary –for all that mattered to Ennis, they all belonged to one and only set which name was garbage. Jack had an art gallery with some great, old pictures besides a lot of modern stuff. So when Jack noticed him, he was still frowning thoughtfully at a nice picture of
Jack walked unhurriedly towards him, sipping in the sight of blond, slightly curly hair and wide, muscular shoulders. “You know, I just bought it yesterday at the auction,” he said softly.
“I like it,” answered Ennis, a bit of homesickness in his voice that didn’t go unnoticed by Jack. “I know that it’s all kinds of different from where I was born,” Ennis went on, “still…. there is quiet and a sense of peace on the sunbathed water of those canals, and you can feel yourself surrounded by nature as it was in the meadows where I used to go as a child, when I wanted to make myself scarce from ranch chores,” Ennis added, a slight smile on his lips.
“I used to live in a grimy suburban district,” said Jack, who was treasuring the first glimpse of friendship between them. “When I was hardly more than a child I often dreamt about leaving my parent’s house. Wished to escape.” He sighed, the unwarranted appearance of memories about his father’s deliberate nastiness standing on his mind. “I don’t know if I wanted to run from my old man’s bitter retorts or from that loneliness. Nonetheless, I never succeeded in breaking away from that. So I dreamt a lot about crawling on a train and getting off only when I’d find myself in the middle of an endless green meadow, a gentle breeze blowing in the summer evening.”
Ennis wanted to tell this city boy about the clouds of voracious mosquitoes that would be everywhere at every hour of the day and night on those summer evenings. He wanted to let him know how broken you could feel after long hours of work in the sunny meadows, or after spending a whole night trying to assist a mare that was giving birth or while helping a calf to live. But the odd mixture of sadness and hope that was dancing in the eyes of this nice-looking guy made him speechless. He hardly grunted and muttered some garbled words, then shook his head almost solemnly and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
Why the hell does it matter so much to me what he did as a child or where he came from or anything like that?
Time to get back to the investigation. Time to break the spell.
Yet, Ennis couldn’t stop himself from smiling. This handsome man was so different from him, and yet just in this short bit of time they had spent together, he had come to feel himself being surprisingly close to him. Underneath the stern and matter-of-fact behavior with which Ennis used to deal with the world, he knew that there was an uncharted course of puzzling feelings he never dared to face. And deep down in his soul, he even knew that Jack Twist threatened to unveil them with every flap of his lashes. Totally unwilling to acknowledge all those things, Ennis allowed himself to realize at least that Jack shared his own aspirations, as they both were dreaming of making the world a better place to live in. Ennis was trying his best to do so by digging in the dirtiest and nastiest corners of society, while Jack was aiming at it by searching for everlasting beauty in the brightest spots of humankind. This very difference made Jack all the more charming in Ennis’s eyes.
Jack basked in Ennis’s affectionate pat and tiny smile, although he knew that they weren’t supposed to talk about cherished, sweet nothing, but to dig into his uneasy recollections. “So, anything new with your case?” he asked in a tender voice, not wishing for the silence to stretch any more.
“Umm… The hammer has been found in those bushes where you saw the slayer drop it. A pretty heavy one, if you ask me. No finger prints on it, of course.” Then Ennis considered for a moment. “Are you pretty sure you are able to recognize that man, once you see him, aren’t you?”
The sudden gloominess that turned the sapphire color of Jack’s eyes into a faded cerulean, answered Ennis’s question even before his own words. “His terrific strength while he knocked that poor man over can’t be forgotten, Ennis. He was a sturdy man and I can distinctly remember his features.”
The purple moist patch on the victim’s forehead and temple, and down on the front of his dark vest coat flashed on Jack’s mind, as his eyes widened.
“Anyway,” Jack carried on like a dreamy man, “it’s mostly his gaze that I can’t forget. It was so awful that it’ll stick in my mind forever.”
Jack told Ennis that he’d wondered why in the hell that man hadn’t looked at his victim with irrepressible rage. That was something you’d expect, what someone was supposed to feel, hating somebody so much to want him dead. Instead, that man simply stared at the old, scared guy with despising eyes, full of disapproval. He acted as if he was crushing a bug, freeing the world from one more ugly thing.
Ennis didn’t know what to say to that. “Well , Jack, most of the time I deal with people who get stabbed or shot by a jealous partner. And you are right, when this is the case, usually you can see that rage flying around in the air like a damned tornado. But it isn’t always like this.” Then, trying to make himself clearer, almost without thinking about what he was going to say, he added, “Alma, for instance, gave me the cold shoulder for a week. Then, one day, she simply said: it’s over. There was no shouting and no crying either, but her icy gaze was detached and her staring simply meant despise.”
Jack wasn’t listening anymore. A black cloud of worries was taking shape, turning into an iron grip attacking his stomach.
He sprawled on a chair, gesturing for Ennis to do the same. “Who is
“We were as good as engaged for nearly a year,” Ennis said, shrugging. “Then, a couple of years ago, she broke it off abruptly and ran off with a well to-do grocer.”
Pushing aside all his worries, Jack was thankful that was all the information Ennis had to offer. A stretch of time passed without any more words. After a few more moments, Jack said, “Two years, you say. Then there must have been a lot more girls after.” Jack leaned forward and tapped Ennis on the knee, trying to be cheerfully friendly but at the same time, he couldn’t stop himself from mulling over what his father told him too many times to go forgotten. You are a sorry excuse for a son ‘cause you are a sorry excuse for a man.
Jack shuddered with disgust as he recalled the very first time his old man uttered those words, spitting on the ground just a few feet away from him.
He was only fifteen after all, but yes he had been weak. He didn’t look straight ahead nor kept walking with his father, while those boys abruptly laughed out loud and one elbowed the other having shared a highly funny joke indeed at his expense. He’d been a pathetic coward instead, a good for nothing son of a bitch as his father callously put it, and he knew it but couldn’t stop himself from running away cringing and whining.
Twenty years had passed and he never said a word about this to anyone, but it stuck at the back of his mind to set fire to his insecurities. Now, while asking Ennis questions that couldn’t give him the answers his heart was hoping for, that memory unavoidably surfaced, with his sequel of bad feelings.
That son of a bitch, maybe he was right, after all-- thought Jack, glancing absent-minded at the rainy evening sky out of the window.
“Umm…” Ennis was now working his jaw, feeling uncomfortable about the turn their conversation was taking. “No… not many more girls. I only dated Cassie Cartwright, an officer at my police district, for a few months. She soon got bored. I was probably no fun, anyway.”
“Girls don’t fall in love with fun, Ennis. Nor do boys, for all I know,” Jack replied in a pitch so cheerless that it sounded out of tune with his mocking intention.
With a sinking feeling that seemed final, it appeared that Ennis wasn’t an option, never had been, nor probably ever be. Nonetheless, he tried to lighten the mood. “Well, of course boys don’t want to fall in love more than they want to have a tooth pulled.” Then, on second thought, he added: “It’s only fair if you wanna have some distraction in your spare time. Your job is a hard one.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s only that I’m used to my lonely, even way of life.” Cloudy brown eyes were now searching nonexistent spots on the light grey fitted carpet.
TBC
- Mood: content
today
Title: A Case of Murder
Author: Bluebirds_sings (Tina)
Genre: AU/AU
Pairing: Jack/Ennis
Rating: PG (at least for now)
Disclaimer: the characters belong to Annie Proulx; no profit from this
Feedback: oh yes, I like it!!!
Huge thanks, as always, to Beth (![[info]](mhtml:http://83.224.70.6/multipart/20080918/16/52/prinston-girl93.livejournal.com_1_4fb1a76e3b9168e40cad70618faf965e.mht!http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
bcatjr) for the accurate and insightful beta work she does.
Dedication: fridayblues kicked my butt to make me write something longish, so I made up my mind and tried to write a short AU/AU one-shot from Ennis POV. Then Beth (bcatjr) urged me to turn it into a multi-chapters story. The result of my efforts is dedicated to them both.
chapter 1 - one night, after dark : http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/41
chapter 2 - a sparkling fire: http://bluebirds-sing.livejournal.com/63
CHAPTER THREE
THE WORLD’S GREATEST LOVER
Saturday evening, Jack’s thoughts definitely weren’t focused on the antiquities auction he was attending.
A painting done by an apprentice of one of the most famous Venetians artists was going to be sold and having a pupil of Canaletto’s would greatly improve the gallery’s Old Master’s collection, for sure. It been two years since Jack inherited the art shop from his uncle Harold, his mother’s brother who’d died after a long neglected pneumonia. Two years were spent learning the market value of precious art stuff, making big plans, picturing himself as a successful dealer.
Up until three days ago, he was eager to spend his time on the auction and possibly his money on that fine painting, the Canals of Venice portrayed on a sunny, spring day.
Three days ago, indeed. Jack swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. It’s almost shameful how I stood rooted to the spot that night, unable to move, unable to scream, even; I just stood there, staring while death was taking that man by the hand. I can’t believe I saw his stunned eyes in his last moments by the light of that streetlamp.
It seemed likely that Jack’s distress was caused by what he saw. But if he resisted the lure of kidding himself with the all too easy answer, Jack knew that those eyes that accompanied his nights weren’t scared eyes panicking; on the contrary, they were soothing brown eyes pleased to play with life.
Three days, he came here three times. Despite the circumstances, I’m only too glad to have him in my house again.
“These things are not fakes. They were done by somebody who knows how to blow glass.” The old lady’s remark broke Jack’s train of thought. They were now in the over-furnished room where the auction was soon going to take place and the woman was pointing at a wonderful pair of glass pots with thousands of shades of color pleasantly blending together. They were undoubtedly old vessels that came from Murano.
“Yes, madam, these are quite fine pieces, if you ask me. Their value in collection must be high,” Jack answered enchanted by the faintly iridescent colors of the beautifully blown Venetian glass.
Sitting in a comfortable armchair, surrounded by tables, plates, pictures, and a candelabra, Jack felt as if he were in the middle of the eighteenth century. He could picture in his mind Giacomo Casanova stepping out of a gondola, could almost hear the golden damask of his cloak rustle, could almost feel the soft tips of his fingers as he lightly traced the outline of Jack’s jaw. Jack caressed the air with his hand, the image of deep brown eyes staring at him, a sweet smile on those lips, a light wig crowning his features. Oh yes, Ennis would have prevailed over any Venetian adventurer. Ennis’s shy, quiet, but determined demeanor would have got him to be the world’s greatest lover without making much effort. Ennis was Jack’s Casanova, indeed.
“I’ve asked as much as a thousand for less important works than this. Come on, nobody wants to offer more than seven-fifty?” The auctioneer was now presenting a nice bronze sculpture.
Jack wasn’t afraid to know that he was longing for Casanova, not longing to be him. That was old news to him. He discovered the hard way the fascination that strong arms and stubble on a man’s face can have for him, long ago.
He was fourteen years old when it happened. Larry, red curly hair, eyes the color of ice surrounded by a sea of freckles, a blue sweater over pale skin. One day, after school, this boy offered to give Jack a ride back home on his bike. Jack sat on the back seat, and at every bump in the road, he firmly clutched Larry’s hips. A bit of skin shown as the short pullover crept up and the palm of Jack’s right hand lowered, as if it had a mind of its own, to touch, slightly caressing, savoring the heat of this boy’s body. When Jack’s thumb rubbed over Larry’s skin, under his sweater, the boy hastily stopped the ride. With a defiant look, and harsh words, Larry refused to continue riding with Jack. As time passed, Jack endured the humiliating smirks and the half jokes Larry addressed to him, and shared with some of the other boys. During this time, his father sensed something different about Jack, too, and made his life hell. All these things haunted Jack for a long time. Guilt filled Jack as his father became angrier by the day. After his parents divorced, his mama going to live with Uncle Harold, Jack finally gained the long needed freedom to be himself.
What Jack was afraid of was falling for Ennis Del Mar. Feeling different is difficult enough, why the hell does it have to be this way? A straight guy would never have to face something so tough. He could happen to fall in love with a married woman, of course, or with a gal that isn’t sweet on him at all. But that would be a whole lot easier than what I have to endure now. He could get himself to do something, anyhow. He could knock on that door for a long time, hoping it would open for him someday. But falling for a straight guy like Ennis is like walking into a fucking wall. There is no room for me to go but down hard. Only way to get through would be that of a ghost.
Jack’s thoughts were interrupted when the auctioneer bellowed, “You must remember that you are making a very good investment here. Owning Eighteenth century Venetians are on the rise.” It was time to pay full attention to the auction. “Seven,” said a thunderous voice at the back of the room. “If I had any capital to spare…” whispered the old lady that was now sitting beside Jack. “Seven-fifty,” said Jack smiling at her, and the pretty landscape was handed to him.
Jack left the auction with the soothing and at the same time disturbing dream of gliding down Venice’s canals gazing at Ennis. As the imagine burned bright behind his eyelids, he wondered if it were a blessing or a curse having met Ennis, having to help him find that old man’s murderer. The question he didn’t have an answer for going round and round in his mind.
Tbc
- Mood: cheerful
today
Title: A Case of Murder
Author: Bluebirds_sings (Tina)
Genre: AU/AU
Pairing: Jack/Ennis
Rating: PG (at least for now)
Disclaimer: the characters belong to Annie Proulx; no profit from this
Feedback: oh yes, I like it!!!
Huge thanks, as always, to Beth (bcatjr) for the accurate and insightful beta work she does.
Dedication: fridayblues kicked my butt to make me write something longish, so I made up my mind and tried to write a short AU/AU one-shot from Ennis POV. Then Beth (bcatjr) urged me to turn it into a multi-chapters story. The result of my efforts is dedicated to them both.
chapter 1 - one night, after dark :
CHAPTER TWO
A SPARKLING
Cold air met Ennis at the threshold when he left from
The bald man was almost embarrassed by not having any helpful information to give to this young and firm detective about the murder that had taken place so near his home, but still too far from his life to make him feel concerned.
Ennis looked absent-mindedly around him. Another row of homes filled with nameless people living down the road that he had to talk with. Walking moodily, he sighed, feeling like he was pointlessly losing time precious to the investigation. Ennis wasn’t upset by hard work, nor by high pressure put on him by his boss, but nevertheless, every time he had to face the truth of a promising life turned by a nameless shadow into a cold body he was hit by all the burden of his parents' loss, always badly feeling the need to have a well rehearsed plan to promptly catch the culprit: the one task he never could accomplish after his parents drove off the only curve on Death Horse Road, cause you can’t send fate to prison.
It was a believable strategy that Ennis felt lacking in this unsettling chess game with a ghostly murderer. “No way can I find the answers I need asking these people,” Ennis kept telling himself under his breath.
As he walked a woman was staring down from a window, making him feel even less at ease.
The house next door had a large garden and a man was busy gathering leaves near a rose pergola, now bare of flowers in the sharp autumn air.
Without listening to the sound of his voice –while repeating the same few, worn out words for the hundredth time— Ennis introduced himself to the man and explained once again: “I’ve come to you to ask for some information that may help me with the investigation of a murder that happened last night. Did you happen see anyone or hear anything last night?”
The man regarded Ennis for a moment, not so anxious to help out the police. “Just a car that had roared away then crossed the street breaking the silence, momentarily lighting up the dark,” he answered while pausing from brushing little branches from his neatly kept lawn.
Another bit of nothing to help.
“And how about this neighbor of yours that has just been murdered? What do you know of him?” Ennis prompted, contemplating with dissatisfaction the scarcity of his notes.
“I know that it may seem absurd as we live next door to one another, but we seldom spoke,” said Mr. McKentzy –as the man introduced himself; a red moustache sported together with curly, thick, copper hair. “He had neither friends nor church companions,” chimed in his wife –a blondish middle aged woman, name of Valerie—while taking a step or two forward and introducing herself to Ennis.
“Umm… so, do you think he was a loner, Mrs. McKentzy?” Ennis asked after a pause.
“Well, I think this is a good portrayal as any,” the woman added, almost apologizing with her gaze for the intrusion. “Don’t get me wrong, the few times we did speak, he seemed to be a strong man with a clever mind, and for all I know I don’t think he had any enemies,” she added with confidence.
Ennis gazed at her without moving, as if collecting his thoughts.
“Has the body been robbed?” Valerie McKentzy asked then, being undoubtedly nosy.
Ennis stared intently for a time at a pine tree that was standing tall in the far corner of the garden, avoiding answering her: no use in disclosing that bit of information to the woman. However, he knew pretty well that the answer was no. No robbery at all. No thief in the night. No casual murder of a stranger so unlucky to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The murderer must have had some wicked reason for attacking and killing. Problem was to find a clue, to have some believable evidence to start with. The interest Valerie and her husband took in Ennis’s questions unfortunately didn’t reveal any meaningful information.
Ennis’s luck was running out. I might as well stop and try another approach, he thought parting from the McKentzy place.
Before leaving the road, at the far corner of the street, he tried one more door and rang the bell at No.17. The garden here was large also, lying on the empty edge of the suburb as the house was the last in its line of buildings.
A pale sun was now slowly creeping through the clouds, and the rolling shutters were slightly shaking in the late morning wind. A lanky young man, almost his own age, leaned against the frame of the door looking askance at him with the deepest blue eyes Ennis had ever seen. The glow of his gaze held Ennis’s eyes and made him sink deeper and deeper into them. “Ennis… –detective
Jack Twist, that was the man’s name, had been awakened by a noise as he told Ennis. He got up and looked out the window: a stout man in his fifties had a hammer in his gloved hand. When the body of the poor prey collapsed lifeless, the heavy man –who had the lamplight on his face—dropped the hammer into the bushes nearby and hurried away.
For some reason, Ennis trusted Jack Twist. His dimples, framing an almost childish smile, spoke of reliability to Ennis. So did his shining and unexpectedly sympathetic blue eyes.
He now had his witness.
Problem was, he felt in his gut that he was going to have to deal with somebody a lot more unsettling to him than a mere witness. In fact, from the moment that Jack answered, “Nice to meet you, detective
Usually, Ennis was keen on assessing the people he questioned in a quite detached sort of way. He tended to watch them as he would watch insects moving across a smooth surface and some things he observed in a dry and impartial way. There were days he’d compare his job to a science experiment where he had to deal with natural events involving the actions of humans instead of some microscopic creature.
But this surely was not how he was feeling now, looking on Jack Twist’s sparkling eyes and smiling lips. To Ennis, Jack was like a night fire, a red spark on the huge black mass of far away mountains. His presence oddly reminded him of the Del Mar family ranch that extended through the greater part of a long slope of mountain, the ranch that was so far away from this suburban district and grimy towns, the one that was equally buried so deeply in Ennis’s mind. This old, rusty memory was one that he hadn’t expected to retrieve from the dustiest corner of his brain, as he supposed it had nothing more to tell him, now that he had moved on with his life.
Still, he felt the caring gaze of this man on him, and suddenly Ennis felt as if he were sitting in the outer court of his childhood’s house after sunset watching a small stove on the flagstones, embers gleaming within the fire.
* * * * *
That distant day, Ennis had stopped short while he was brushing Nero, the young colt that his father had trained not long before the wreck that took his parents' lives. The black colt was the pride of Ennis’s deceased mother and of Ennis himself. Nero’s agility and his eagerness to learn any new trick the
When the roar of tires came to a halt on the gravelly courtyard, Ennis’s siblings stopped their chores and joined him, while a stranger approached them with papers folded under his arm. K.E. had to sign their ranch away.
There was no doubt that Ennis would have stayed in the country taking ranch jobs if he could have, but instead he came to this ugly town doing a job that he hardly felt was rewarding. But deep down, he knew that his sister had reason to urge him to use his part of the money that came from selling their ranch to get a college degree and take his chance to better himself.
What was totally odd was being hit by these lost memories all of a sudden, in Jack Twist’s lounge, surrounded by some china and having a cuckoo clock chirping eleven in his ears on a Thursday morning, after a murder had taken place during the night. Jack fucking Twist, a couple of words and I feel as if I’m at home, like when I was established in a family circle.
“May I have a glass of water, please?” Ennis’s words were hardly uttered before a big smile was on Jack’s lips. Jack went straight to the kitchen. “Beer is better, isn’t it?” he said carrying two cold bottles and a bottle-opener.
“The murdered man was a mystery,” Jack said quietly. “There must have been a shadow in his life.”
“What makes you think that?”
“I don’t exactly know. Of course, I’m not at all sure. Nothing was really weird, or totally unusual,” Jack replied. “He was shy, but had something of the rebel in him, even if I can’t exactly put a finger on what the problem was.”
Ennis enjoyed himself while listening to Jack. He enjoyed himself while letting a companionable silence, filled with the clock’s faint ticking, stretch between them, and he enjoyed himself while his eyes roamed around the room, tidy and cozy.
Jack’s chatter was useless in improving his investigation, but nonetheless, Ennis couldn’t bring himself to leave the quiet and harmony of this house, the friendly behavior of this man in order to carry on his search for the hammer Jack Twist spoke about, or –worse— to go back to his cold and lonely room on the other side of the town.
TBC
- Mood:
excited
today
Title: A Case of Murder
Author: Bluebirds_sings (Tina)
Genre: AU/AU
Pairing: Jack/Ennis
Rating: PG (at least for now)
Disclaimer: the characters belong to Annie Proulx; no profit from this
Feedback: oh yes, I like it!!!
Huge thanks, as always, to my dear beta Beth (bcatjr) for taking the time to correct my mistakes and for her constant support.
Dedication: fridayblues kicked my butt to make me write something longish, so I made up my mind and tried to write a short AU/AU one-shot from Ennis POV. Then Beth (bcatjr) urged me to turn it into a multi-chapters story. The result of my efforts is dedicated to them both.
A.N. While I was thinking about “Perspectives”, the Muse played a trick on me and I was stuck with this story. This doesn’t mean I won’t go on with my drabbles. It just means that I’ll write even some lighter AU/AU from time to time. I hope you’ll enjoy!
CHAPTER ONE
ONE NIGHT, AFTER DARK
White raincoat taken in against the chill wind,
The grey building was so ugly that it was hard to believe that inside its unappealing walls, murder and violence could be punished, good could win against evil and ultimately humankind could achieve justice and social harmony. Nevertheless, Ennis had been trying to accept it as true for more than ten years now. It was his job to look with detachment at the ups and downs of other people’s lives while trying to solve cases of murder and it eased his mind to think that it was worth it, that his efforts made society a better place to live in.
This one, however, was the most unsettling murder trial Ennis ever collected proofs for.
His eyes squinted in the chilly early December air. In a flash, he replayed all that had happened in the last two months.
****
The old man was found battered to death on a narrow road in the suburbs.
Ennis turned the corner to
Ennis had to start looking for witnesses, nonetheless.
He made his way down the street, almost unwillingly knocking on doors. It was a rather small, old woman who opened the door, two buildings from the corner of the street.
Her concerned, warm smile brought to his mind memories of a time long ago; of his mother, smiling at him while holding out a cup of chocolate, just as this old lady was now holding out a cup of coffee for him.
Both Ennis’s mother and father died in a car wreck when he was still a child, and he took being orphaned as a fact of life, something to be endured, as there was no way to fix it anymore. May even be that his current state of anxiety to quickly find the guilty and have him in prison in no time, was borne out of his need to somehow fill that sense of loss which seemed to always follow him each time that he found himself all over again eye to eye with Death.
“Madam, … uhm…” –Ennis focused on remembering the name printed over the doorbell’s tag. “Mrs. Bridges, I‘m investigating the death of a man that happened last night not far from here.” And he pointed to where the man had been found dead. “I need to know if you happened to have seen or heard anything last night,” he said, trying to gentle the raspy tone of his voice.
The elderly lady halted in concentration, passing a hand over her light grey robe. But it turned out that Mrs. Bridges, who seemed to have heard a gate clicking in the night, was half deaf. In addition, she had an over-spoiled kitten, who was supposed to be sleeping on the couch but had probably wandered out to the neighborhood during the night, picking and choosing his favorite spot in the garden between the freshly fallen leaves. Therefore, Ennis was wondering if this was what she had heard.
Ennis left Mrs. Bridges house moody, and caught himself repeating the medical report he had read less than an hour ago. The deceased man had three lower fractured ribs and had sustained severe contusions all over his body. The right side of the skull had been highly injured as well. It seemed that that last, vicious strike must have caused death to the elderly man. Passing a hand through his short blond hair, his tawny eyebrows wrinkling, Ennis reminded himself that only a healthy and strong man could have done all that damage. So, an aged woman couldn’t be seriously considered as a potential murderer.
There were a dozen other doors to knock at, so Ennis went from one to the other through the misty autumn weather.
“A cold morning, isn’t it?” said a bland voice welcoming Ennis when he rang the bell at No.11.
“Yeah.” Being non-committal was the main trait of Ennis’s character and he did the most of it with his line of work. “
This was just one more of the thousands of times in which he tried to ignore the resentment that he almost unconsciously felt towards his parents. In Ennis’s mind, having a first and second name, as both his siblings had, carried a kind of distinction. “Kenneth Edward Del Mar”: yeah, he surely would have swapped with his brother.
“Well, what did you come for?” asked the bald man, slightly amused at the absent-minded behavior of this tall, young agent.
“I’m investigating a murder,” said Ennis matter-of-factly, as this unruffled guy seemed to be unaware of being a next-door neighbor to the murdered. “I’d like you to tell me if you’d seen anything, or heard anything that happened last night,” Ennis muttered thoughtfully, not minding to ask the same kind of question one more time and trying to prevent himself shifting from foot to foot. He couldn’t help it, shuffling every time he felt nervous and ill at ease, a habit that didn’t fit the unreadable attitude which depicted what he believed should be the second skin of a successful detective.
Ennis frowned at the floor as this man --age of sixty-two, square face and sad eyes-- said that he didn’t see a single thing as he was dead to the world.
The victim, however, was an acquaintance.
“Had he ever hinted to you about any problems he had?” The man shook his head no. He’d only played chess with him a couple of time in the last six month, or so.
Not much to go on with the investigation. It was pretty unlikely that a chess player, losing a game would grow so angry with the elderly man to kill him in cold blood. Ennis had almost chuckled at this thought, suddenly evoking the images of his childhood: he and his big brother propped on the kitchen table, playing chess and shouting each other’s names for cheating; his elder sister –Margaret Jennifer, Meg, her more friendly nickname-- yelling at them while boiling eggs for breakfast, trying to calm them but succeeding instead in riling them up more.
Maybe the killed man was as stubborn as him, ‘cause he surely had to be stubborn in order to take pleasure in challenging unforeseen moves while forcing them into the well known pattern of some mental scheme, as a player has to do while playing chess. A obstinacy that could put someone in danger in real life, or that could turn into a blessing when a detective is asked to deal with unexpected events and things that may be seen from other angles and in other moods than his own.
And maybe the murdered guy was quiet as well, ‘cause he’d have to like long stretches of silence to let the mind take chances in weighing expectations, opportunities and hopes.
Hell, knowing that the victim played chess couldn’t help much in the inquiry but it surely gave Ennis a reason to feel a connection with this ill-fated human being, making him wonder with a vengeance why anybody disliked him so much to take his life with such brutality.
TBC
- Mood: excited
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