By K_Denney All Rights Reserved ©

Mystery / Thriller

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

When Rose spoke in the hospital I felt a small piece of me die. She sounded so sad. So hurt. I had never heard her sound like that before. She was always strong. Even on her worst day.

She refused to talk or to even look at me on the drive home. I could practically feel the rage burning through her. Burning through my chair and sizzling though my jeans on my backside. Still we did not speak. I was left with my thoughts.

I never really knew about her family or anything about her really. Our topics were always about the recent past or a case or about who we are now. The more I thought the more I could see all the times she had slipped up and I had never even noticed. Yet, I could not help but feel happy that she is opening up to me. About her age and her name. I suppose the rest would come with time.

We entered her house when the phone rang. On her birthday I was definitely cutting the phone wire. The last thing we need is moody here having a job on her birthday. Not after last time.

"Hello?" She answered with a sigh. There was also a bit of a growl. I knew that she was angry about James but I had never seen her this bad. Maybe I should hide her gun for a while.

If she ever gets her claws into the murderer then she will become the next murderer. In the hospital she was muttering about how the murderer will pay. I was beginning to think that she should just send a medical bill and leave the poor fellow alone.

Even murderers did not deserve to be attacked by this woman.

"Yes?" That was her 'Yes, this is Rose Blossom' tone.

"What would be required of me?" She searched for a pen and paper. I handed them to her.

They discussed the prices and exchanged numbers before Rose put the phone down. She left the pen and paper and did a full circle of the room. It was her version of angry pacing.

"Well?" I asked as we sat down. Rose was still fuming. I was hoping that Rose didn't have her gun on her. Yet again I hoped she did, then I had a chance of a quick death.

"A new case. Mr Andrew Weinstein wants us to find someone who is stealing weapons from his armoury." Good. Something to take her mind off blood. As well as mine. I could not take anymore. I had already fainted. That had done a lot to my manly hood. None of it good.

Thunder sounded from outside, it sounded like ten bins falling over and rolling down the street. Then a flash of lightning that was blinding. Not a second later did I find myself sitting on Rose's lap.

"Matt!" She yelped. I stopped.

"Do you have your gun?" I asked.


One second I was on Rose's lap, the next I was upstairs in my house. More thunder and lightning.

I appeared under my bed.

If you could not guess, I hated lightning.

I closed the door to my bathroom with a bang, grumbling. The storm had knocked a tree - a small yet long tree - over last night so that a branch was now sticking right through my window and into my shower. My routine was ruined. Without a shower and a cup of coffee in the morning I would be even more clumsy than I already was. That and Rose would lose her temper and send me home.

I might want to put an ice pack in the fridge.

I walked down to Rose's. If she was in a good mood then I could use her shower. If not then I would have to use the sink. How girls could wash their hair in the sink in under five minutes was beyond me. How Rose could do her make-up in less than that confused me even more.

Rose walked down the hall drying her wet hair with a towel. She was also wearing... gulp... a towel.

"Matt?!" She shrieked.

"Sorry!" I turned around with my hands up. "I need to use your shower 'cause mine... well... it has a tree through it." I finished lamely.

"Fine use mine but go straight there and then come through for breakfast." She threatened. I was fine with that.

As soon as I entered her bathroom my inner detective came out. Without make-up Rose looked 25. There were no anti-age creams anywhere. Then I saw it.

A postcard.

It was of her mother, I think. They looked similar but this woman had some wrinkles and a few grey hairs. If she was Rose's mother than she would need to be in her 50s to 60s.

So the young look was a family look. Good to know.

See? Inner detective!

After my shower I headed downstairs. Everything seemed fine in the kitchen.

The news was on the TV. Rose at the cooker cooking. The clock was ticking. Wait.

Rose... was... cooking?

Without the microwave?

I took a double take.

She was cooking pasta and swearing in Italian. Her pronunciation was perfect. Of course it was. She is from Italy.

"Who are you and what have you done with Rose?" I asked awe struck.

"I am Vivian Moon and Rose is a made up character." She answered. Okay, she had a point.

"You're cooking." I said.


"You're cooking." I repeated. She sighed.

"I use to love cooking but I can only cook Italian food and I swear a lot because I always burn myself. I didn't want to give myself away so I became Rose twenty-four-seven. It is actually a relief that you know because now I can be me again." She smiled. It was one of those rare smiles that just stated that she was happy and would be for a while. Now would be a good time to cut the phone wires.

It was that smile that made me realize that for the first time we were having a proper friendship with no acting. That thought made me smile back.

My manly hood went down a little more at my sappy thought but I didn't care.

Now I really was sappy.

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