A Taste of Honey

by Tom Benson

  Connelly nodded imperceptibly to the man in the limelight, and with the hand that held her ISITV microphone she twisted her grip to give him a subtle ‘thumbs-up’.

  Kelly swallowed and briefly closed his eyes before he continued. He glanced at the two sheets of paper in his hand, then removed the top sheet to a pocket and focused on the second.

  He said, “I’ve asked for this press conference in an effort to stop some rumors that are being fed to the media.” He went on to praise the media in their efforts to keep the American public informed, but suggested that some misinformation had been leaked to discredit the NYPD. He did not hold the media responsible for the resultant negative publicity.

  The chosen representative of law enforcement explained that so far, there were no proven links between a variety of incidents. He listed: a house fire in Indiana, a horrific accident in West Virginia, the torture of a detective in Indiana, the mutilation of a detective in Michigan and the disappearance of a pedophile in New York.

  Cameras clicked, and questions were called out to the officer, but he held up both hands palm outwards and shook his head. When the baying pack quieted, he spoke.

  “When there is evidence against any persons, I’m sure the appropriate District Attorney’s offices will make statements accordingly. If there are any connections, they will be highlighted in any ongoing investigations.” He looked straight at Caroline Connelly before continuing.

  “I would also like to announce at this time that I will be giving an exclusive interview to the representative of ISITV when we have facts to report. Should any of the recent cases be connected, it will then be made public.” He was treated to the ghost of a smile and a faint nod from the brunette.

  Following the one-sided press conference, Captain Kelly made his way back into the department HQ, followed by a number of officers, both in uniform and civilian clothes. Some of his colleagues patted his back and congratulated him on a good call.

  In diners and delicatessens across the state, people watched the television coverage and the short pieces that were fed to the viewing public afterward. Rather than be satisfied with the information given in the broadcast, some producers highlighted a variety of theories, and as usual, they included cover-ups and department scandals.

  The ISITV producer sent out an urgent private message that he wanted to speak to his star reporter. Although he was pleased about the possibility of a scoop, something was going on behind the scenes. He was glad to have Caroline on the books, but wondered how she had pulled off such a coup - with the NYPD.

  *

  A deli was the chosen location for Honey and Bert to have a meal before they parted company. They had met in the corridor with their bags packed and left the hotel to pack their respective cars before finding somewhere to eat. They had watched the bulletin with interest.

  “Well,” Bert said. “That will be interesting, but Captain Kelly hasn’t cleared up anything for anybody has he?”

  “It will take time, but he’ll fix things I’m sure,” Honey said.

  The single word ‘Newsflash’ appeared on the television screen and caught the eyes of everyone in the diner. It was one minute after the press release by Captain Kelly. An all too familiar face appeared, gazing at the camera, but with a more sober expression than normal. The reporter was standing directly in front of the Police HQ on Park Plaza.

  “This is Caroline Connelly reporting for ISITV. Today, I’ve been allowed access to certain facts, regarding what we’ve come to know as the vigilante cases. I’ve had the privilege of a private interview with a high-ranking officer of the NYPD, but I’ve been sworn to secrecy.” She mixed truth and lies as smoothly as any professional reporter. There was no dramatic gaze into the lens. Unlike her usual delivery, the woman looked as if she’d just witnessed a national disaster.

  “At this time, I would like to withdraw my accusations of a conspiracy by the NYPD with regard to the recent series of incidents. I apologize unreservedly and personally to DI Kimberley Forest, whom I have portrayed in the public domain in a bad light.”

  Bert and Honey turned to face each other, both of them with furrowed brow. They turned to the screen to observe and listen to the dark-haired reporter.

  “The officer I have so cruelly haunted is out there somewhere right now putting her life in danger for the benefit of the citizens she has sworn to protect. Please forgive me Kimberley, or whatever you may be calling yourself at the moment. This has been Caroline Connelly reporting for ISITV, live from New York City.”

  The camera remained focused on the woman’s serious expression for several seconds. It then panned left to take in the front doors of the building behind her.

  Bert said, “That was a nice gesture. I just hope the detective in question was able to hear it.” He smiled at Honey as he handed her a clean white handkerchief to wipe her eyes.

  *

  Saturday, June 28th, 2003

  Indianapolis, Indiana

  “Hi Mike,” Honey said. “I wondered if you’d like to invite me to lunch.” She was looking gorgeous in a red mini-dress which had a high neckline, but a hemline that stopped halfway up her thighs. Her black high heels accentuated her shapely legs, and her make-up and hair were perfect.

  The photographer and owner of the business stared in disbelief for a moment and then with a gentle shove from a colleague he stepped forward, his face lighting up with joy.

  “Honey,” he managed as he approached her. “I never thought I’d-,”

  “I’ll take that as a yes then,” she said and stepped closer to whisper. “If you make lunch special for me, I’ll give you the room number of the hotel I’m staying in tonight.”

  “Could we meet here at say ... 12 noon?”

  “It’s a date,” she said and winked at him. She handed him a small envelope and then turned to leave, swaying her hips as she made her way to the door. She saw a reflection of Jerome licking his lips and shaking his head. She glanced over her shoulder and winked at him. Mike remained in the same spot, his eyes wide and his lips parted.

  Earlier, from across the street, Honey had called the store and asked Jerome how Mike was doing in the companionship department. Jerome assured her that his boss still used dedication to his work as a reason for not dating, although Jerome suspected something much deeper.

  Once Honey had disappeared along the sidewalk after the short visit, Mike went into Studio 1 and checked the contents of the envelope that Honey gave him. It was the ‘Wanted, Dead or Alive’ photo of his stepfather, but it was in two pieces. The words ‘Wanted’ and ‘Alive’ were both crossed out in heavy red marker pen.

  Mike called Kathy immediately. After a two-minute conversation, the photographer broke down and cried. He called the best restaurant he knew and booked a table for two. Mike couldn’t know that Honey had already visited Kathy’s salon to tell her that her stepfather had permanently disappeared. She asked the young hairdresser not to let her brother know that he’d be receiving a personal visit too.

  *

  At 7pm, having left work early to shower and change, Mike knocked on the door of Room 103 at the Indiana Plaza Hotel. He was wearing what Honey had told him to wear when they parted after their lunch date. Mike was in his best suit with shirt and tie.

  Honey looked through the peephole and then opened the door and stepped back.

  Mike walked in, looked around the door at her, and gasped. Her hair and make-up were immaculate as they had been at their lunch date only a few hours earlier, but she had changed her outfit.

  Honey pushed the door closed and stood back. She was wearing black high heels, but her only other clothing was a sheer, black baby-doll and tiny black lace panties.

  Mike said, “Honey, you are edible.” He started to take off his coat, but she reached out and stopped him. She kept both of her hands on his arms and shook her head.

  “I hope you have an appetite,” she said. “We’re going to have a glass of wine and then I want to strip you slowly of all your
clothes.” She watched him swallow hard, and his lips parted as his breathing increased in rate and depth. “Maybe when I’ve got you naked I’ll let you enjoy me,” she said and led him to a small table with armchairs either side.

  “I’ll do anything you ask,” he said in a hoarse whisper, barely able to control his desire. He gazed at her and swallowed hard again.

  “We have one night together Mike,” she said and handed him a glass of chilled wine. She raised her glass. “I need you to make love to me, and make me feel like a desirable woman.”

  Mike nodded slowly because he was overcome and unable to speak. He was looking forward to the night ahead. There was a sense of sweet anticipation coursing through him.

  *

  New York

  Maria Delano got back to her apartment after work on Saturday evening and flicked through her mail, dropping one envelope after another onto the breakfast bar. She had been thinking of her dear friend, colleague, and flat-mate all the way home. There would surely be a card, but no; still nothing.

  There was a New York picture postcard that said simply, ‘Meet me at Luigi’s’ at 8pm’ She didn’t recognize the handwriting, and then realized that there was no postage stamp or markings. Maria would consider the idea, but if she went, she would be armed.

  As she stood in the shower, she thought about the television coverage being given to the strange incidents occurring in different states. She was impressed and intrigued by both Captain Kelly’s press statement and Caroline Connelly’s televised apology.

  Maria wondered how much of the strange goings-on were down to the intervention of Cindy, the strange Englishwoman, who worked for Captain Kelly. She was also trying to come to terms with her new impression of Cindy. Was the woman for real?

  *

  On Monday 23rd, when Cindy had cornered Maria in the locker room, the brief conversation had felt strange to the Italian, but not as strange as the one that followed. Maria met the PA in Central Park as requested and immediately insisted on knowing why she should trust a glorified secretary with any sensitive information.

  The Italian’s eyes had widened when Cindy admitted calmly that she had spent most of her life working for the British Secret Service. At the age of 43, she had given up her job because she had killed too many people in the course of her work. To press home that she wasn’t a glorified secretary.

  Maria was still having trust issues and told Cindy that it was a wonderful background story, but she could have plucked it from the pages of a paperback. As other people wandered past them in the middle of Central Park, the Englishwoman’s response had been to hand a manila envelope to Maria.

  The Italian looked inside and after a quick look around, lifted the items out one at a time to inspect them. The envelope contained a cell, a charred leather wallet with a detective’s shield inside, and a wristwatch with an engraving from the Sniper School to Kim.

  Maria said, “How the hell-,”

  “That’s not important,” Cindy said. “What’s important is, they are no longer in the Evidence Room in Indianapolis. I paid them a secret visit a few days ago.”

  Maria decided at that point that it would be safe to let Cindy borrow Harriet’s journal. The two women walked a while and the Italian asked how an Englishwoman ended up doing the job she was doing.

  Cindy explained that she had arrived in New York and applied for the post of PA for Captain Kelly when he set up his new, elite unit. In a short time, she had made herself indispensable to her boss. More than once she would out-think and out-plan people who had been in similar jobs for many years.

  Maria was enlightened and amused to find out that for the first two years working together, John Kelly was unaware of his PA’s background, believing she was simply an efficient PA. He had apparently told Cindy that she had a delightful English accent, but never commented on her appearance.

  The Englishwoman had come clean about her background only because she was helping Kelly solve a riddle. It was a matter of life and death concerning a member of Kelly’s team. Cindy’s plan worked, and the officer survived the situation. Since that day, there had been a mutual trust between a man and his PA.

  *

  Now with all that behind her, Maria stood in the shower and wondered how life would be without her best friend. She also wondered who had delivered the postcard.

  After her shower, Maria walked through the apartment in her robe and felt the world closing in on her. She walked through to what was now a spare room. Kimberley had gone forever, and it was doubtful if she would ever risk staying over with her old friend as Honey.

  Maria wondered what she would suggest to anybody else in her position. It took her only two minutes to come up with an answer. She got herself dried off, dressed, and at 7.45pm went out to the restaurant about two blocks from the apartment.

  As the detective came out of the block, she paused and looked up and down the street, before setting off to Luigi’s. Maria was making such an effort to calm herself that she wasn’t employing her usual powers of observation. If she had, she would have realized that there had been a man following her from the moment she left the apartment block.

  Maria was studying the menu and became aware of somebody approaching and then standing beside the table, set for one. She spoke almost absently as she turned to look up.

  “I’d like to-,” she stopped in mid-sentence and stared at the handsome dark-haired man who was grinning down at her. He was about her age, but no more than 30.

  “Hello Maria,” the man said in a Scottish accent. He was about five foot nine tall, and his white T-shirt filled with a body that was solid in all the right places. His arms were muscular and his shoulders broad. A black leather jacket was folded and draped over his left arm, and his right thumb hooked into the pocket of his jeans.

  “Is it Jake?” Maria managed to get out as she stood. She was somewhere between laughing and crying. “When did ... how did-,”

  “You obviously got my card,” Jake Carter said, his Scottish accent wafting over Maria like a breath of fresh air. “I’ll tell you all you need to know if you’ll come and join me.” He turned and nodded to the waiter that he’d briefed a short while before.

  Maria was still standing staring when the waiter approached and ushered them to a cozy corner booth set up for two diners. A chilled bottle of white wine was waiting for them. Maria and Jake followed the waiter, and they took their seats. The attentive waiter filled their glasses and stepped back.

  The grinning man left two menus, nodded to the diners and left them.

  “Right,” Jake said as they both made themselves comfortable. “May I just clarify that I’m not stepping on anyone’s toes by having you join me this evening?”

  “No,” Maria said almost trance like, “no, I’m on my own.” She didn’t know why she said it, but she added, “I’m not seeing anyone at the moment.”

  “Great,” Jake said and raised his glass to his companion. “Let’s toast, the keeping of promises.”

  “The keeping of promises,” Maria mimicked and stared into his blue eyes and smiled as she raised her glass. It had to be nine months earlier when she had first met this lovely man.

  Jake suggested that they ordered food and then they could talk without interruption. As soon as the waiter was on his way with their order, the Scotsman rapidly reminded Maria of his promise that he would look her up if he ever returned to the US.

  Maria said, “When ... Kimberley and I got back from the air-show last year, she told me that you might not write, but you would probably turn up out of the blue.” She paused. “I got your cards, from three different countries, but you didn’t mention that you’d be visiting.”

  “It was a bit of a short notice thing,” Jake said. “When I got the opportunity to spend a weekend here, I thought I’d better get over and keep my promise.”

  “You get around,” she said, “so I’m starting to think that you’re not a run-of-the-mill soldier.”

  “Where is Kimberley
now?” he asked, ignoring her observation. He watched her reaction to his question about her flat-mate. He saw her features dull a little, but he was prepared to wait and listen.

  She said, “There was an incident-,”

  “Leave it,” Jake said, “you can tell me when you feel ready.” He’d noticed her eyes wandering up and to the left, indicated that she was probably trying to imagine a circumstance. It wasn’t a guaranteed sign, but combined with her tight-lipped expression and slowness to speak, she was being guarded. He didn’t want to force her to lie. He liked her too much.

  Jake explained that he was in the US with a few colleagues on a fact-finding mission, but it had finished early, and they had been given the weekend to do whatever they wanted. He told her that he left the other guys in downtown New York so he could look her up.

  The conversation was light and with the occasional humorous comment. Jake had Maria laughing, even if she couldn’t forget her inability to lie about Kimberley. Jake insisted on walking Maria back to her apartment before he set off back to the city.

  Halfway back to the apartment they were walking along the sidewalk and passing an alleyway. Opposite the entrance to the alley, a tall, pale-faced guy in a hoodie and jeans leaned against a lamppost. As the couple passed, he turned and produced a gun at waist level.

  “Into the alley now,” he said and motioned with the gun.

  As the pair turned to face the alley, a short dark-haired man stepped out of the shadows. He was brandishing a knife, and the blade glinted in the lamplight.

  Shortie said, “In here quick. We want watches, cells, and cash.”

  Jake whispered, “You go short-,”

  “Now,” Maria shouted, hoping that she had understood her companion.

  In the milliseconds that the two muggers took to look at their victims, they sealed their fates.

  Jake spun and gripped the tall man in a wristlock. When he turned the man’s hand upward and pulled on the arm, the gunman’s body responded naturally by turning away to prevent the arm being broken. He let go of his pistol and ended up facing away from Jake.