The Definitive Albert J. Sterne

by Julie Bozza

  The frown was replaced in an instant with a broad smile. “That would be great! Do you think they’ll agree?”

  “Of course they will,” Albert said distantly. “The Bureau always teams the staff it perceives as potential problems. Thornton and Ash are a classic example. If things go wrong, there are plenty of people to blame.”

  “Ignore him, Mac,” Fletch said. “Albert is the biggest cynic I’ve ever met.”

  “Hell, he’s probably right. But we’ve already proved them wrong once, haven’t we?”

  “Yeah, we have,” Fletch agreed with a smile.

  “You’re not staying in Denver, Fletcher?” Celia asked the question lightly, but there was an unusual tone in her voice: pensive; unsure. Both Mac and Fletch turned to look at her. “Seems ridiculous, I know,” she continued, “but I’ve become used to having you here with me in New Orleans, Mac.”

  “That’s not ridiculous,” he said, almost in a whisper.

  “It is, seeing as it’s only been a few weeks. Shouldn’t be able to form a habit that quickly. Especially one I’ve been resisting for so long. Fiercely independent, that’s my trouble.”

  Fletcher found himself smiling inanely. He’d always had the impression that Mac and Celia’s relationship was far more casual than Mac would have liked it.

  As for Mac, he’d obviously decided words wouldn’t do. He slid closer to Celia, took her in his arms, and kissed her as if he were auditioning for the role of Clark Gable. Fletch let out a cheer.

  And then there had been all the rigmarole of Fletcher’s good wishes for the pair, and Mac and Celia making it quite clear that they could each move to wherever the other was based, and Fletch admitting he didn’t have the first idea where he might end up, but it would be a field office somewhere closer to Washington than Denver was. And Albert silent and uninterested through it all, not even reacting to this last piece of information and all it implied. Having decided that was enough of a hint, Fletcher restrained himself from commenting on the horrors of long distance relationships - instead, he bought a couple of bottles of champagne with which to celebrate and drank far more than his share.

  Three days after that dinner - a week ago now - Fletcher had flown back to Washington with both Albert and Mac in tow. And here Fletch was, in limbo, pruning and trimming the plants in Albert’s garden, which he supposed was an improvement on rattling around Albert’s beautiful house wondering what on earth to do with himself.

  The answer, at least immediately, was obvious. Albert was due home soon, so Fletcher would clean up and wait for him on the front steps as usual. It was a lovely day, with the first hints of that crisp fall flavor to the air that reached all the way up to the pale blue sky, with most trees still richly green and others beginning to stain their leaves gold. Fletcher sat there, wishing he could appreciate it like he used to, wishing he could appreciate even the rusty ache in his limbs from all this manual work. Limbo. He hoped he wasn’t becoming the kind of person who could observe but not feel.

  As soon as the Saab turned into the street, Fletch headed for the garage and opened the doors so that Albert could drive right in.

  “Pathetic,” was the man’s first comment once he joined Fletcher outside. “I thought you now had more productive tasks to accomplish.”

  “Done them,” Fletch informed him.

  This obviously surprised the man. After much begging and convincing on Fletcher’s part, the list of garden chores had been handed over that morning, along with detailed verbal instructions and much barely suppressed trepidation. It was now evident Albert believed that, if Fletch had managed to complete all the chores, the quality of the job must be lacking. Fletcher accompanied the man on a tour of inspection. His work was eventually pronounced, “Adequate.”

  “Is that all?”

  “This is satisfactory, Ash. What more do you wish me to say?”

  Fletch replied, “Nothing.” He began smiling. Given the man’s high standards, it was quite a compliment for Albert to describe something as satisfactory - for a moment, Fletcher had forgotten that.

  “Perhaps tomorrow you can buy two new shrubs for the border on the left there, and plant them.”

  “All right.” He added with a grin, “I’m sure you’ll tell me exactly what sort.”

  “Yes.”

  “Albert,” Fletcher said, while they were still wandering the backyard, amidst the peace of myriad greens. “Would it be all right if I stayed here while I’m on leave?”

  “What would be the purpose of that?”

  Fletcher sighed, looked around at the nearest flower bed. “Guess I’ve formed a habit, too.” But Albert wouldn’t appreciate recycled words. “I want to be with you. It helps. It’s really helped me to be with you.”

  “I see.”

  “I don’t mind that you’ll be working. In fact, I could be your assistant - at work, I mean.”

  “You’re suggesting that you tag along on my cases, both at headquarters and in the field offices, like a lost child? It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

  “I don’t want to be a burden, I just thought I could help you in turn. But if not, can I stay here, in your home? Next time you have to travel, I could go up to Idaho for a few days, or something.”

  Silence for a while. Presumably Albert was weighing the positives and negatives of having Fletcher live with him for a time. At last the man said, “It was my intention to take a period of leave to coincide with yours. I thought we might drive somewhere and you could sightsee.”

  “Yeah?” Fletcher found he was grinning broadly at this unexpected offer. “That would be wonderful. Why didn’t you say before?”

  Albert seemed impatient. “I assumed it was obvious. I am finishing a variety of tasks at work, I’m in the process of closing up the house, and you have just assisted me with the garden.”

  “You should have said,” Fletcher insisted. “You can be such an idiot.”

  “Compared to what?” the man asked, distant. Then, more directly, “I have made some unwarranted assumptions.”

  “No, you haven’t. At least, I have, too. I never thought you’d want to come with me. Hell, the last time we took a few days off together - remember?”

  “Yes, I recall.”

  It had been when they’d first become lovers, and they’d headed to New England for a crazed long weekend of driving and sightseeing and sex. In fact, Fletcher now realized their first anniversary had passed him by while they were in New Orleans, and he’d entirely forgotten it. “That was a year ago, love, a year and a few days,” Fletch said. “Seems appropriate we’re going to take some time off again.”

  Albert seemed uninterested. Fletcher reflected that the bastard had no doubt remembered the exact date, and hadn’t bothered to remind Fletcher of it. Though he supposed they both had other things on their minds at the time.

  Rather than accuse him of this dereliction, Fletch continued, “Let’s just get out on the road and see where it takes us. In fact, how about we aim for Idaho but take a couple of weeks or more to get there?”

  “You wish to visit your family.”

  “Yeah, I do. And if you’d come with me, that would be perfect.”

  “Perfect,” Albert repeated, as if he were unsure of the word in this context. The silence threatened to return.

  “Please, love. It won’t be too painful. If it is, just let me know and we’ll keep driving, won’t stop until we hit the Oregon state line. Well, Nevada, maybe - too many memories in Oregon for now. But I want to see Dad and Harley and Beth and the kids again.”

  A nod, which might have been acknowledgment but that Fletch chose to interpret as agreement.

  Before he could have second thoughts, Fletcher blurted out, “And you can ask Dad for my hand in marriage.”

  Silence again. Albert was apparently trying to decide whether the lawn had been mowed evenly. But eventually he said, “Such an alliance would require a substantial dowry to make it attractive. I doubt that your father could afford it.”


  Fletcher grinned. “I’ve missed your insults, you know that?” But that wasn’t enough. He felt like hugging the man, so managed to shepherd him inside despite a lack of cooperation. Once behind closed doors, however, Albert drew Fletch into his arms with only the smallest display of unwillingness. They held each other close for a while, they even kissed - during which Fletch could sense that Albert was holding back, was restraining an eagerness.

  It had been so long since they’d made love. And Fletcher felt he could do it now, if he wanted. If he wanted to bring himself to the act, to give himself to Albert. But he couldn’t quite want that. Limbo. That was crazy, when Albert was here and ready and eager. Imagine Albert being the one missing out, Fletcher reflected - that was a turnaround from the usual.

  Fletch let the man go, and offered a smile. “I’ll call Dad.” Then he quickly amended, “I’ll call Dad tomorrow.”

  Albert didn’t seem to notice the change in plan. He headed for the kitchen, and began to prepare a meal. Sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee, Fletcher considered this man. Albert was so reliable, yet so full of surprises, and as Fletch felt that both these traits were essential in a lover, he figured it was really no wonder that he loved Albert so much.

  Within half an hour, Albert brought dinner over, and they ate in silence. Until at last Fletcher said, “Thanks for trusting me with the garden.”

  Albert merely nodded once in reply.

  As soon as Albert left for work the next morning, Fletcher collected Albert’s bike from the garage, rode to a phone booth some distance away, and called Peter Ash. “Dad, it’s Fletch.”

  “Hello,” Peter said, apparently both surprised and relieved. “I missed talking with you, it’s been two Sundays. Your boss said you were in the middle of a case.”

  “Yeah, sorry. Things have been a little crazy lately.” Before his father could ask for details, Fletch continued, “Actually, the reason I’m calling is that I have some leave and I thought I’d come visit for a while.”

  “You know you’re always welcome, as long as you can put up with us working the diner most of the day. How long can you stay?”

  “I don’t know, my plans are pretty open-ended.”

  “When do they expect you back at work? Don’t worry,” Peter added with a laugh, “it’s safe to tell me. I won’t expect you to spend all your leave with us.”

  “I just have time off,” Fletch said, knowing he sounded uncomfortable. “Whatever time I need.”

  Silence for a moment as Peter realized the ramifications. “What’s happened?”

  “It’s all right, they haven’t fired me.” Sighing, Fletcher asked, “Remember that old murder case I was working on in my spare time? Well, I solved it. I’m getting time off for good behavior.”

  It was soon evident that Peter realized there was more going on than Fletch was prepared to tell. “All right, that’s fine, Fletcher,” he said, reassuring. “You’re welcome, of course, for as long as you need. In fact, I’m flattered you thought of coming to us.”

  Before his father could go as far as rolling out the red carpet, Fletch said, “There’s one other thing. Remember Albert? I want to bring him with me.”

  The slightest hesitation before Peter replied, “That’s fine. He can come up here and be ‘vastly bitter and rude’ to his heart’s content.”

  “Yeah, I hope so. I have to warn you about something, though.” Fletcher took a moment to feed more coins into the phone.

  “What is it?”

  “Me and Albert, Dad. We’ve been more than friends for a year now. Not that there’s anything more valuable than friendship. I mean, we’re lovers. More than that, even. This is it for me, Dad.”

  “I see,” Peter said. “You’re telling me Albert is your … spouse.”

  Fletcher closed his eyes. He’d love to be able to agree with that statement, especially as Peter was being so good about this. Instead he continued, “So I thought I should warn you. And ask if we’re still welcome.”

  “Of course you’re still welcome.” The tone was hearty, betrayed by only a hint of uncertainty. “You’re very welcome here, both of you. We’ll be glad to finally meet him.”

  Something like a laugh escaped Fletcher. “I also want you to give him a chance before you decide you don’t like him.”

  “We’re not going to like him?” Peter asked, at last beginning to sound a little dazed.

  “You’d better warn Harley he’s a vegetarian, too.”

  And Peter did laugh then, though it seemed born of surprise. “I think we’ll cope with that as well.”

  “All right.”

  There was a silence, perhaps thoughtful, perhaps simply reeling. Eventually Peter said, “This must be difficult for you. I mean, difficult in all sorts of ways - but especially working in the FBI.”

  “Yeah. Albert’s kind of paranoid about it. That’s why I’m at a phone booth.”

  “I understand. Well, I understand as well as I can from this distance.” Another pause. “Fletcher. Are you happy?”

  “Happy with Albert, yeah. You probably won’t see why, but I am.”

  “So what is it that’s wrong? Why is the FBI giving you all this time off? Or don’t I want to know?”

  “You don’t want to know,” Fletch said. He sighed, and added, “Except that it’s over now, it’s all over, and I just have to find the pieces and pick them up.”

  “Maybe,” Peter Ash said, “maybe we can help you with that.”

  “Maybe you can,” Fletcher agreed, though he knew he could never share the blood-guilt with anyone but Albert, because no one but Albert would ever quite understand. Fletch said goodbye, and hung up the phone.

  Imagine that - he’d just come out to his father, and Peter Ash had been as accepting of that as of all the other things Fletcher had thrown at him over the years. They weren’t close, he and his father, but Fletch knew Peter would always be there for him. Still, Fletch knew this phone call was only the beginning. Peter would have to think it through, Beth and Harley would need to be told, and then they’d all have to deal with Albert himself. Oh joy, Fletch thought with bleak humor. He had no idea how Albert would, in turn, deal with the Ash family.

  Fletcher had another phone call to make but, before he did so, he climbed onto the bike and rode it around the block, legs pumping furiously. There were some things he didn’t want to have on his mind when he rang headquarters. When he finally called, he located Mac, and asked the man out to lunch.

  “So I guess I wanted to apologize,” Fletcher said to Mac over their usual meal of steak and chips. “I need some time away from all this, I need to deal with what I’ve done.”

  “You had no choice -” Mac began in standard reassurance.

  Fletcher waved that topic away. “Caroline will look after you for me while I’m gone. If she can’t kick-start our careers for us, no one can.”

  “That’s fine, Fletch. You didn’t have to take me out to lunch to explain.”

  “Well, I might not be back for a while, I just don’t know. I need to figure out where all this leaves me.”

  To his credit, Mac didn’t comment on that last statement. “Where are you heading?”

  “We’re going to get in the Saab and see where the road takes us, but we’re sort of heading for Idaho.”

  “Who’s we?” Mac looked askance at him. “You’re not taking Albert.”

  “Yeah, I am. He offered before I thought to ask, believe it or not.”

  Mac said lightly, “Figured it was time he met the family, did you?”

  Fletcher looked up at his friend, and tried to match the bland expression - the trouble being, Mac was betrayed by curiosity, and Fletch by amusement. “Exactly what are you implying, Mac?”

  “I’m not going to say it,” the man protested.

  “You think I’m crazy enough to say it?” Fletch retorted.

  A taut moment, before Mac began laughing. “What a ludicrous notion, I don’t know how I could even have imagin
ed it in the first place.” He put his cutlery down. “I’ve lost my appetite. If it’s true, you are crazy.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Fine, we can play it like that.” The man leaned forward. “But I’m your friend, Fletcher, you can tell me what’s going on.”

  “No, I can’t. Albert would kill me if he knew you’d figured it out.”

  “God preserve me, it is true, isn’t it?”