Traverse, Inc.

by Sells, W. G.

  “Yes, Abigail,” Sheila replied and winked at me. “How are you?”

  “Sore. Has my boyfriend been here?”

  “No,” said the nurse. “I don’t think he’s able, from what I hear. He’s still being questioned by the police. By the way, they are outside waiting for you to come to.

  “Oh.”

  “Do you feel like talking to them?”

  “No, and I don’t want to talk to them.”

  I pulled the card out of the envelope. It was the cheapest card I had ever seen. On the front was a picture of a goat. On the inside it said, Goat well soon. It was signed, TI. Bastards. It’s not even a Hallmark card. A note was inside.

  Dearest Julie was crossed out and My Dear Peggy Lipbleed was written next to it. I’m so sorry I beat you. I didn’t really beat you, but that’s your cover. Please don’t forgive me and while you are at it, tell Abigail not to forgive her boyfriend and to press charges against him. He really did beat her - again. It will get him into jail and he needs to be there so we can do something while he’s doing time. He’s a real sleezeball and you’d be doing her a favor while we accomplish our goal of ending his drug lord reign. I am truly sorry we didn’t tell you what was going on, but there wasn’t time and…well…as you know, we suck. Love, Tree. PS. Tear up the note, make a scene and give the scraps of paper to Sheila. xxxooo

  As I swallowed my pride, I watched as Sheila tended to Abigail’s IV and the beeping finally stopped. The creep had beaten her really well.

  “You should talk to them, Abigail,” Sheila said. “He gave you a concussion, and almost broke your jaw.”

  Abigail sniffed and I could tell tears were welling up inside her. She shook her head.

  “Can’t,” was all she said.

  I ripped up the note with enough flair to get a plug on World Wide Wrestling.

  “Son of a bitch!” I shouted. “If he thinks he can give me flowers and a card after he beats the crap out of me….” I threw in some crying for good measure as I threw the wadded up paper at Sheila. “Prick!”

  A detective peeked inside the door of the room.

  “Can I come in?” he asked.

  “No,” I yelled and tossed the flower vase at the door. It just missed his head and crashed in a million pieces. “Stay the hell out of here!”

  He looked at me like he couldn’t believe what I had just done. Sheila picked up the wadded paper and winked at me.

  “Give these gals a few more minutes, officer,” she said. “And give me a moment to clean up this glass.”

  The cop disappeared, mumbling some cuss words and Sheila called someone on her cell phone. She gingerly stepped over the glass and headed for the door. She turned before leaving.

  “Someone will come and clean this up,” she said. “You have a few minutes before any visitors come in.”

  “I don’t want any visitors,” I said, “especially my husband.”

  “Sure thing,” she said and closed the door behind her.

  Abigail sniffed a few times and moaned. I waited for her to say something, but she didn’t.

  “Is this the first time he beat you?” I asked.

  “No.”

  I waited some more. The beeping started again. Beep…beep…beep…

  “What about you?” she finally said.

  “This is the first and the last time,” I said. "I'm done with him."

  Abigail moaned and cried some more.

  Bastards…

  Ding Dong

  [Previously in Traverse, Inc. – Peggy Lipton comes to in a hospital and finds out she has to convince the girl in the bed next to her that she needs to press charges against her boyfriend for beating her so that the team can ruin his drug business while he is behind bars.]

  Beep, beep, beep…

  “Hi Julie!” I recognized the voice, but my unwrapped eye was a little blurry having just woke up.

  “Annette?”

  “Yes. I hope I’m not disturbing?”

  “No, not at all. We were just about to play hopscotch and…” I looked over at Abigail’s bed, but it was empty and stripped of sheets and blankets. Sleeping off the drugs and the stress, I hadn’t heard her leave. I wanted to wonder what happened, but…

  “She’s gone. Oh, well. How did you find me?”

  “I called your number and your aunt told me you…ah…that you were here.” I could tell she had wanted to say ‘you had been beaten’ but she took the tactful, slower road. I helped her ambling.

  “Did she tell you what happened?”

  “Yeah. You okay?”

  “I’ll be fine once I talk to a good lawyer.” Her mouth smiled, but then her eyes turned quizzical.

  “How come the name on your bed says Peggy?”

  Oh, crap. Because I lied to you and so did my aunt who’s not my aunt…

  “Can you keep a secret?”

  She looked at me like she was up to her neck in secrets, but since this noose was around mine, she could handle it. She shook her head. I wanted to scratch mine.

  “I have a fake ID. I didn’t want my husband or his side of the family to find me here.”

  “Oh. Damn, you’re gutsy.”

  If you only knew…

  She smiled and so did I. I was about to do my job of finding out where the boyfriend was so we could find the Russian girl’s child, when things all kind of came together. When I think about this moment, I just have to smile at the way the Traverse, Inc. team works. Did I say team? Bastards!

  The door flew open and in ran a man with flowers in one hand and a policeman grabbing at the other. The man struggled with the cop with his back to the beds.

  “Abigail!” The man shouted. “Don’t do it! I promise I’ll never…”

  He finally turned and saw that Abigail’s bed was empty and that she wasn’t in the room. He started to yell again.

  “Where is she!?! What did you do…” and then his jaw dropped when he saw Annette. He stared at her and she stared back. The cop was finally joined by two others and they wrestled him to the ground and put him in handcuffs.

  “What are you doing here?” he said meekly to Annette. Annette froze. Holy shit!

  “She came to see me,” I blurted out.

  The cops were going to drag him out when they stopped and saw Annette’s beaten features and me all bandaged up.

  “Well, well,” said a policeman, “just one big happily bruised family. Wait here ladies. I’ll be right back.” They dragged boyfriend out the door and closed it behind them. Annette plopped down on my bed and sniffled; tears welling up in her bruised eyes.

  “He beat you too?” I asked. She looked at me as if I meant he had beaten me. “Not me, Abigail,” I added and pointed at the other bed. The tears came gushing and the sobbing intensified. Nice.

  That afternoon, Sheila wheeled me out of the hospital with Scooter by her side. We made our way towards a car parked in the loading/unloading zone. I hadn’t said a word to Scooter the whole way down and out, and wasn’t sure if I was going to say anything to him ever again.

  “You did great, Julie,” he said. “We wrapped up the whole thing in one fell swoop. We got the kid back and the drug…”

  “Shut up!” I cut him off. “Sheila, thank you for your hospitality, but I can take it from here.” I put my foot out to stop the rolling and stood up. I fumbled trying to get the bandages off of my head so she helped me.

  “Thanks,” I said, and then caught a glimpse of my hair in the reflection from the hospital doors. I looked like the unwrapped mummy bride of King Tut after five centuries of lying in a sealed tomb. Bastards! I tried to straighten my hair as Scooter tried to smooth out my feelings.

  “We have a new place for you and…”

  I punched him hard in the gut. He doubled over and struggled for air to finish his sentence.

  “…and…I…have…your…check.”

  “Good. Now open the door, get in, and drive me home.” I winked at Sheila and she smiled back.

  “Bye
, sweetie,” she said. I waved and waited for Scooter to open the door.

  Later that night, as I sprawled on my new living room sofa with clean and still damp hair wrapped in my new cotton towel drinking from a new mug the black coffee I had made from my new coffee pot, I held the check in my hand and sighed. I was Peggy Lipton and had a brand new life in front of me.

  I had helped put away a sleezeball Senator; had reluctantly, but none-the-less deservedly, shot and killed a badass mafia kingpin; had put away a drug lord; had returned a kidnapped child to his relieved mother, and helped two abused women find some peace in their lives. Not bad for a couple of weeks’ worth of work. What’s next?

  The thought barely made its way into my brain when the doorbell rang loudly. I jumped and spilled black coffee on my brand new white terrycloth robe. Damn! I didn’t even know I had a doorbell.

  Knock! Knock! Knock!

  [Previously in Traverse, Inc. – Peggy Lipton spills coffee and…]

  Knock! Knock! Knock!

  Knock! Knock! Knock!

  Someone was persistently rapping on the door while I was daubing up Café Bustelo with a tissue.

  Knock! Knock! Knock!

  I hope you brought ginger ale to this party cause I have stains here…

  Did you ever not want to answer the door – maybe had the flu – or simply felt like playing hide-n-seek with the world and only calling out when the coast was clear – or wasn’t? I sat there and thought through whom it could be, why they were there, how long would they….

  Knock! Knock! Knock!

  Crap! I jumped again and almost spilled my coffee. I set it down on the table, my hand shaking badly and my brain berating itself for thinking too long. Get Up! NO! Stay Down! You’re comfy cuddled up and if it was someone from the team they would call and, crap, now I’m scared because now I’m hiding from someone I don’t know and…

  Knock! Knock! Knock!

  Is there a NEW gun in this NEW jones? I am gonna…

  “It’s me!” a voice called from outside the door. I know the voice.

  “What do you want?”

  “I brought you something.”

  “Chocolate?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Chocolate covered something?”

  “Close.”

  “Something c o v e r i n g chocolate?” I say slowly.

  “Yep. Give up?”

  “Nope. Is it bigger than a bread basket?”

  “How big is a bread basket?”

  I can’t play anymore and open the door. Scooter holds out a Christmas tin. He nods his head back and I see Queen Bee standing on the sidewalk. She waves.

  “Just a little something to say sorry and thanks,” Scooter hands me the tin and turns to leave.

  “Wait!” I shout and run into the dining room to fetch something. I run back and right up to Scooter and slug him in the stomach.

  “Owww!” he doubles over.

  “That’s just a little something back.”

  “You thought she had something for ya, didn’t ya?” said Queen Bee to Scooter. Well, she did.” I mouth thanks to Queen and shut the door. Two seconds later there’s a knock.

  I open and Scooter grunts out “Call Herman in the morning.”

  “Sure.” I close the door and head for the coffee cup to bring it back up to adult level. As I pour the pot, there’s another single knock at the door. It scared me. It didn’t feel right and the hair on the back of my neck stood up like a gentleman stands for a lady entering the room, only they stood like Groucho Marx wooing a wealthy widow. Sproing!! I was immediately on edge and spotted three new kitchen things I could use as a weapon – two of which could also be used to make waffles.

  Knock! Knock! Knock!

  Crap! I go to the door and peep out the window. Three guys. Three?!!? Three young guys. Cute. Go on…

  I open the curtain and show myself drying my hair.

  “Hello,” I say with a raised voice and smile.

  “Hi,” the closest one - brown/brown, over six feet, nice smile (good teeth), there are three of them…three guys…not teeth, replies. “We are having a party tomorrow night and since you are new to the neighborhood, we thought we’d be neighborly and invite you.”

  “Thanks, what time?”

  “Seven-thirty,” he said.

  “Or now is good too,” added another shorter, stronger one. Don’t look at him…

  “I’ll see if I can make it,” I shout and turn away from the window.

  “You can bring friends,” the third one said. Don’t answer…fix coffee…dream good tonight.

  As they walked back across the street, I went to the kitchen and grabbed my cup and headed back to the bathroom to brush my hair.

  Knock! Knock! Knock!

  Crudocrapola! "Is there a flashing sign outside…Geeeesh!"

  Back to the front door to look out the window and…..nothing – nada – zip. There’s no one there. Pranksters? Neighbor pranksters with great smiles and muscles and…I’m about to turn to go back to the bedroom when I catch a shadow – something definitely moved by the tree next to the trellis – no it’s not a shadow but a reflection in the glass – Someone is not in front of me, but behind…where is the damn waffle iron? Ceramic plate…heavy…flies…

  I spin with the plate in my hand, and spotting the form of the shadow out of the corner of my eye, Frisbee fling the plate with full extension as hard as I can and it completely decapitates the new blender in the corner by the new fridge. Annette stands to the other side of the fridge with her mouth and eyes wide open in amazement, horror and utter relief that I missed. She’s paralyzed and grabs onto the sink counter to her left and the fridge to her right.

  “You could have killed me,” she almost cried.

  “What are you doing here? How did you get in?” I’m somewhere between fear, defiance and anger, but leaning more and more toward anger. She stares mutely.

  “Well!?!?!” I shout and already feel bad for doing it.

  “I followed them,” she finally says. “Your friends, or one of them I guess since you didn’t punch both of them.”

  “You followed them?”

  She shakes her head. “I saw him wheel you out of the hospital and then I saw him with her at the police station talking to the arresting officer. Since I’m not with, you know, not with….”

  “Your boyfriend, yeah…”

  “Well,” she continues, “I don’t have anywhere to go and I think you are more than meets the eye and I want to do that kind of stuff and…”

  “What kind of stuff? There’s no ‘stuff’ here and you don’t know…”

  “I know you put him away, and by the looks of you, I know you weren’t beat up. And since you were in from the onset, you must have been working me in the jail too.”

  Now it was my turn to have an open mouth and eyes, though I preferred not to show her. Inside I was like…damn.

  “So, why the hell are you sneaking up on me?”

  “I wanted to show you that I was good enough to be a part of your operation.”

  “There’s no operation,” I say.

  “Maybe, but I still don’t have anywhere to go. If I help you clean up this mess can I stay for a while?”

  My brain is trying to find a reason why she can’t stay and the only thing I can think of is… everything is new and I should be the one breaking it all in. Somehow, that excuse doesn’t cut it.

  “You like parties?”

  “Yeah.”

  “There’s one across the street tomorrow night.”

  “I can stay? All right! Can I be on the squad? I mean in the squad? Company? Troop? Gang? Whatever you call it. Mission Impossible crew? A-Team? I don’t know. What do you call yourselves? How many of you are there? Have you been doing this for a long time and when did you….”

  Geeesh, I kinda liked her more when she was quietly in the grip of the fridge.

  No, No, Annette!

  [Previously in Traverse, Inc. – In her new place, Pegg
y Lipton is visited by Scooter and Queen and then meets her new hunky neighbors. Annette then drops in (through a window) and Peggy nearly kills her before agreeing to let her stay in her place. Annette has figured out that Peggy works for a unique outfit.]