by B. D. Gates
"Some toast," Tess remarked, smiling. "Good wine," she added after taking a sip.
"Oh, good, I wasn't really sure, but I liked the name," I said.
"What's the name?" she asked, as she took another sip.
"Dragon's Tail," I answered.
Tess snorted into her glass. "Really," she said.
"No, not really, I can't remember the name, I just liked the label."
Tess laughed again. I liked hearing it.
We set about eating and frankly, the conversation dropped off for a time while we made quick work of the steaks. I stopped long enough to get more butter and sour cream from the kitchen, bringing both out to the table along with the salt and pepper.
"This is delicious," she said, as she added more butter to her baked potato. "What kind of rub did you use?"
"Well, no rub, I just threw on whatever I found in the cupboard, except for the cinnamon," I answered. "You should probably savor this, because I'll never be able to duplicate it again," I added.
Tess laughed and took another swallow of her wine. "Dragon's Tail," she said aloud, then giggled.
I began to wonder if the diminutive detective was getting a bit tipsy.
"So, Detective, how was your day?'
Tess considered her answer. "Well, to start with, we've had another break-in out on Worthy Road. Tool shed, unlocked, no one home at the time, power tools and a small generator. After that, we had a short staff meeting about the break-ins. I got back some crime scene evidence from Forensics regarding an assault-and-battery that had occurred about three months ago, damn lab takes for-freaking-ever to get our results back to us. So, I had to have an arrest warrant issued for the jackass who swore up and down that he had not taken a baseball bat to his best friend who'd had the nerve to eat the last of the Crispy Crunchies cereal, since we now had the evidence we needed to put him at the scene and holding the bat. Hopefully, that'll go to court fairly quickly, unless he plea-bargains, in which case I won't have to deal with it, and then, I had to go over to check on my Witness Protection participant, who can be a real pain-in-the-ass, but was nice enough to invite me to dinner."
I laughed. "Pain-in-the-ass, huh?"
"Usually," Tess answered, waving her fork a bit for emphasis. "But a very good cook, so it's a wash."
I laughed. "Well, good, I'd hate to think that I'm completely unbearable to be around."
"Oh, Bishop, I'm just kidding. You have been the least of my problems, now that you're healed and establishing a new life for yourself. I heard you found Annie Jefferson's dog, Miz Dottie. That was a really great thing you did for her, you know."
I smiled. It was nice to be recognized for something good where Tess was concerned.
"Yeah, well..." I said.
Tess sat back and took another swallow of her 'Dragon's Tail.' "No, Bishop, really, you have no idea what an impact you've made on Annie's life, by saving someone she loved. Most people would have never taken the time or made the effort to pick up that little dog, but you did. And that made all the difference in the world for her."
I looked closely at Tess. She was pensive, peering into her nearly-empty wine glass. There was something there, something painful, in the distance of her gaze.
I quietly asked,"Would you like some dessert?" snapping Tess out of her reverie.
"Oh, no, Bishop, I'm very full, I don't think I'd have room and I'd hate to ruin this beautiful dinner with a bellyache," she replied with a small smile. She still held the wine glass, as if she couldn't decide whether to take that last swallow or not.
I sat back and picked up my own glass, taking a good swallow myself. Tess was a mystery to me and, like most mysteries, I wanted to know the answers to the questions I had. Some would say it was a character flaw that had gotten me into trouble, big trouble, and landed me here in this town.
Maybe I hadn't quite tamed my inclination for not knowing when to quit, but I was getting better. I knew that because, instead of questioning Tess, I let her be.
Tess looked up at me and smiled, somewhat shyly, then finished her glass and put it on the table. We sat quietly for a while, not speaking, and just took in the falling twilight. When it was full-on dark, she spoke.
"Thank you, Bishop, that was a lovely dinner," she said quietly, pushing back from the table and standing up.
I stood up with her. "You are very welcome, not just tonight, but any night you'd like to join me, us, then please do."
"Oh, no, I couldn't...impose..."
"Tess, from tonight on, you have a standing invitation to dinner. Any time you feel like it, come on."
Tess smiled and nodded, not speaking.
I had a sudden urge to hug her. I stopped myself.
Her sweet smile was still there, and her eyes were soft as she gazed at me across the small expanse of deck. She nodded again. "Have a good night, Bishop."
"You, too, Tess."
She turned and made her way down the steps. Looking back, she gave a small wave and let herself through the gate. Within a minute, I heard the roar of her car as it started, louder still as it rolled away from the curb.
Sitting down with a sigh, I pulled a small cigarillo out of the case in my shirt pocket and lit it. Leaning back in my chair, I let out a long trail of smoke. I didn't do it often, but I did enjoy a good smoke after a nice meal or a really good date. Tonight, it was a nice meal with a smart, funny friend. I don't know if I would say it was a date because we'd eaten dinner together plenty of times before, but...now that it was over, it kinda...felt like a date.
I thought about Tess. She was a puzzle. I liked her, she was a good cop, dedicated, but there was something else, a distance she had put between herself and everyone else. I knew that she had a history, we all do, but I wanted to know hers, because it had affected her so deeply, because it made her who she was.
*****
Tess drove away from the carriage house, the small smile still on her face. It had been a nice evening. She liked spending time with Bishop, talking and laughing with her. Bishop was easy to be with, and the visits left Tess relaxed, happy. Tonight, Bishop had taken care of her and that was something that rarely happened for her in this life.
"Dragon's Tail," she whispered, smiling and shaking her head.
8
Tess had come by for her next walk-around two days later, and was sitting next to me on the porch steps while the dogs romped in the yard. They were being especially silly and Tess found them laughably funny. I told her that I thought she came over to play with the dogs more than to check on me. She didn't disagree. And since she seemed to be in such a good mood, I decided to tell her about softball.
I opened with "so, you know, Dr. Biggs has a softball team," and waited for Tess's response.
"Yes, I know, she's had one for about the past four years. Lost the championship game to Dr. Snellings' team last year."
"She's asked me to play."
"And?"
"So, what do you think about that?"
"Are you asking my permission, Bishop?" When we were alone, Tess seemed unable to call me anything but my real name.
"Well, no, yes, I don't know, I guess maybe I am. I mean, I'm not sure if I have to or not."
"Do you want to play?"
"Yeah, I do."
"Then go play, Bishop," she said as she patted my knee. "I think it would be good for you. After all, you live here now, that's part of making a life for yourself."
"Good. Okay, then it's settled. I'm playing for Dr. Biggs."
That was almost too easy.
Spring training began three days later under the direction of Dr. Biggs, now 'Coach' Biggs. In her T-shirt and sweats, whistle around her neck, clipboard in hand, she looked like a basketball coach I had in high school. And seemed to be just as strict. About twenty women had turned out for the practice, not including the four apparent associate coaches, distinguished by their own clipboards and whistles.
"Okay, everybody, listen up." The players gathered opposite her as s
he stood on the roof of the dugout so that everyone could see her. "Last year's players will assist with training and testing. They will lead new players in practice. I have divided the roster into four squads. Please check your name for the squad you've been assigned to and join that group on the base lines."
The announcement was followed by a mad scrambling to the bulletin board set up in front of the home team dugout. I did my best to quickly find my squad, but my name wasn't there. I scanned the lists again.
Oh, for fuck sake. I was looking for the wrong name.
"Lisa."
"Baxter!"
I was very aware that I was standing alone at the board, still frantically searching.
"You okay?" Coach Biggs had joined me.
"Yeah, uh, fine." How do I explain looking for the wrong name?
"You're right here, second squad. Go line up with Chessie's group," she said, as she turned and pointed towards a tall girl standing with her hands on her hips, her dark brown hair in a long ponytail threaded through the hole at the back of her ball cap swinging back and forth as she slowly shook her head.
"Right, thanks Coach," I replied as I jogged off towards the first base line.
Oh my god, I have just got to get better at this.
Once Chessie had us stretch and put us through warm up exercises, she divided us up into two groups and had us play "catch" with our opposites, fielding fly balls and grounders. As the catch developed its rhythm, I found myself listening to the pop of the softballs as they hit the leather gloves, taking in the warm sun, the greening grass...I had missed this more than I realized. Suddenly, I was sixteen, seventeen-years-old, and I was back in Baltimore. I threw the softball back to my partner, who yelped as the ball pinged her in the back since she was now walking away. She turned and glared, and I noticed that everyone in my group, now gathering around Chessie, had turned to see why she'd cried out.
"Oh damn, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hit you," I stammered, running to catch up to her.
"No problem," Alicia said, jerking my hand off her shoulder with a quick twist away from me, the rest of the group watching with looks varying from amusement to scowls of dismay bordering on what-the-fuck. I felt like I was young again, all right, about thirteen and a total dork. I stood at the back, face burning, as Chessie began filling us in on the agenda for the squads.
"We'll start every practice with stretching, followed by batting and fielding practice. Paired squads will play short games with the other paired squads each week, a three-inning game that will help the coaches decide positions for each player. You are expected to arrive promptly at the designated start time, and practices including games will last about two to three hours, so make time in your respective schedules. Missing more than three practices and/or games will affect your position on the squad as well as on the team, so I suggest you make it clear to whomever you need to that you will be busy on practice days, if you want to keep playing."
These girls were serious about their softball.
Chessie continued. "Our squad name is the Owls, and our colors are blue and white. Blue shorts or sweats and white T's will be our practice uniforms and you will be expected to wear them each practice. If you have your own equipment, we ask that you bring it. If you do not have equipment, we will furnish what we can, but just know that pickings are slim. And worn, so you may want to consider purchasing your own."
We had a short practice that night. The Owls sided up with the Badgers and we spent the rest of the time batting and fielding balls with the Cubs and the Tigers. I held my own at fielding, but batting sent a bit of a shock wave through my wrist and forearm. As the practice broke up and I was walking to the Jeep, Dr. Biggs stopped me.
"Hey, Baxter, got a minute?" Over time, Dr. Biggs had taken to calling me by my new last name.
Apparently, she got strangled on 'Lisa,' too.
"Sure, Coach, what's up?"
"I noticed you were favoring your arm while you were batting. You okay?"
"Well, it kinda stung a bit. Nothing I can't deal with. I'm going to ice it when I get home."
"Okay, but let me know if it keeps giving you trouble. You may want to wear your splint tonight, too, to keep it in position."
"Okay, good idea, Coach, I'll do that." While we were talking, I squinted to watch a lone figure running on the track surrounding the soccer fields opposite the ball field. A woman, running with a nice, steady stride. Nice figure, too. Coach Biggs was watching as well.
"That's Hayes," said Biggs.
I looked at Biggs.
"That's Tess," Biggs clarified. "She's out here every evening."
Out here every evening. Well, that explains why she was so quick to tell me to "go play." She'd still be close by and could keep an eye on me.
"She's got good form," I remarked.
"She should," Coach Biggs replied. "You know her story, right?"
I turned and looked at Biggs, shook my head.
A look of seriousness was on her face now. She continued. "Tess was a track star in high school. Had a scholarship to the University of Virginia and was all set to go, was going to get her law degree. Then her dad was shot and killed in a robbery at the grocery store he owned out on the highway. Two guys came in as he was closing one Saturday night. Rick managed to get off one shot with his pistol, but he took one in the chest and was gone before EMS could get to him. Tess had been in the back, in the cold storeroom, when she heard the gunfire. She was holding Rick when he died. Her mother had passed away when she was five, it had just been the two of them.
"Tess should have gone on to school, but she stayed for the trial. Law Enforcement Officers had caught the guys about fifty miles down the road with the cash and some things from the store, trying to get medical care for the one Rick shot. Well, those men got some hot-shot attorney out of Richmond and he turned that trial into a damn circus. He filed every pretrial motion he could think of, delaying the inevitable for months. By the time it was all over and done with, and those men went to prison, Tess had lost her scholarship.
"She lost the store, too, couldn't pay off its debt. It was auctioned off on the courthouse steps and some corporation bought it with the idea of turning it into a gas station convenience store, but that was about six years ago, before the big bust, and they have yet to start any work. The store's still there, just the way they left it.
"Tess had worked there after school and on weekends so she had to find something else. I was told that the two detectives who worked her dad's case took her under their wings and got her a job at City Hall, secretarial stuff, you know, filing and so on."
Whyte and Fowler, I thought to myself.
Biggs went on. "I guess she decided law enforcement was her calling because, within about two years she'd finished her courses out at the community college and had gotten her degree. Joined the force as a patrol officer and worked her way up to Detective. She still lives in her parents' house out in the Henderson Road subdivision, her mom's life insurance had paid off the mortgage years ago, but that was all she had left at the end of it. We put on a fundraiser for her after the trial and that's most likely what kept her above water while she finished school."
"She never tried out for UVA again?" I asked.
"No, she stayed, though most anyone else would have packed up and gone, if you ask me. Honestly, losing her dad was devastating to her. She had been a really happy, funny, beautiful girl growing up, everyone loved her, and her dad. She pulled away from us, kept to herself. She'd had a boyfriend, Jackson, all through high school. He tried to help her, as much as he could, but she broke up with him and he went on to school in Maryland. As far as I know, there's been no one else. You know, there's nothing the people in this town wouldn't do for her if she'd let them, but she doesn't let any of us in."
We both watched as the runner took the far turn. Tess's history was spinning through my head. I recalled the tongue-lashing she had given me about dealing with my circumstances. She had done everything she was suppo
sed to all her life, had worked hard to achieve the best for herself that she could and, in an instant, it was all gone.
Everything, everyone that meant anything to her, was gone. I stood silent, the aching pain I felt for Tess penetrating my bones.
Biggs clapped me on the shoulder, broke my train of thought. "See you tomorrow, then," she said, her face still solemn.
"Yeah, sure, tomorrow," I replied, still preoccupied with the information I now had about the young woman running that track.
Biggs walked on to her car. I opened the Jeep door, taking one more look over my shoulder at the solitary figure running in the darkening evening, before climbing in and driving home.
Tess.
I'm so sorry.
9
Over the course of the next three practices, it became apparent that I was not performing as well as I'd expected. My batting was improving, but covering right field, I found that I was having a bit of difficulty keeping my eye on the ball while running, tripping over my feet and allowing a base hit on two occasions. Chessie advised the other fielders to cover my plays, calling me off catching any balls headed in my direction. Coach Biggs caught on after watching the plays unfold over the fourth night's practice and had a discussion with Chessie who, in turn, rescinded her orders.
The following evening, I sat on the bumper of the Jeep as I changed out of my work shoes to my 'play' shoes. Coach Biggs walked over and sat down next to me. I had a feeling that this was going to be the conversation I had dreaded, given my performance on the field, the one where Coach Biggs cuts me loose.
"Baxter, we need to talk," Coach Biggs started. "You've done well in the practices, considering your age, and your recent injuries, about as well as I'd expected."
"Yes, ma'am." I kept my head down, paying great attention to how I tied my cleats.
"But I think you could do better," Coach Biggs continued. "In fact, there are a few other girls that need a little more work, too, so I'm putting together an 'after-practice' practice. How does that sound to you?"
