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“I did tell you. I also changed vehicles after the bookstore creep, put the tracker on my second vehicle, which is pre-transponder, just in case, you know,” Helen said.
“No, I don’t know, you scary little woman,” Azreal shouted. “You get a visit from the Fer de Lance and fail to mention it. You have a tracker placed on your vehicle those people are monitoring and you fail to mention it! I truly want to fly to where you are and beat your ass.”
“Mentioning it would have changed nothing,” Helen replied. “He came as a father. I dealt with him as a father. He did warn me, just as Kurtzwilde did, that people are watching.”
“They are, but the Fer de Lance has put out the word, but not your name or your specialty.”
“I don’t have a specialty,” Helen said.
“You do, and in the next four months, you’ll step fully into and embrace your gift,” the voice said. “Stay low. Learn. Minnesota is cold as hell. When you head to Sour Grapes, make sure you bring real winter clothing.”
“Roger that, Cranberry out,” she ended the call before Azreal could, and it felt good.
The boss had mentioned her specialty. As far as Helen knew, she didn’t have one. People liked to talk to her because they felt comfortable around her. However, she didn’t consider that to be a specialty.
She put her tunes on and made her way to Passion Fruit’s house, parking in the garage. Helen entered through the back door to find them both in the kitchen waiting. Even Candy the Cane Corso sat looking at Helen, sporting her new embroidered doggy coat for big animals. The toy Helen sent to her for Christmas, hung in the massive jaws and she gave a soft bark. She watched their faces, trying to understand the matter at hand, and then she smiled.
“You two got on each other’s nerves, didn’t you?” Helen asked.
Bryan spoke first, “Oh dear God, yes! Three weeks we’ve been locked in here together, and she’s done all of my puzzles!”
“Not all of them, plus the books you bought, he spoiled the ending of two of them for me,” Passion Fruit snapped.
“Kids,” Helen said. “I brought more books, puzzles, and even a few paint by number sets.”
Bryan offered a cheese eating grin and said, “Yay!”
The bandages were off his face, and considering all that had happened to the skin covering his mug, he didn’t look half bad. The staples had left a Bride of Frankenstein path along his hairline, but overall, Passion Fruit did well putting Humpty Dumpty back together.
Passion Fruit offered a sideways grin. “The Christmas presents arrived. Cute. Nice. Thanks. You are crafty. Candy loves that stupid jacket.”
“And I’m relaxed,” Helen added as she passed the bag to Bryan. “What’s the word and plan for ole Bryan here?”
He looked in the bag, excited at his goodies, and told her, “It is Calvin O’Grady. I’m Irish now, from Hoboken, and I got a better book deal with a signing bonus. My next of kin have been notified of my untimely death, and my cousins wanted to know how much money I had in my accounts.”
Helen said, “so, it was a money factor.”
“Turns out it was,” Passion Fruit added. “Cousin Joe was sifting off Mom’s accounts to pay for his online porn addiction. Evidently, his inability to get his rocks off had him angry enough to follow Bryan and put a bullet in him.”
Bryan asked, “Cranberry, how’d you know?”
“I have learned, it is always one of the three P’s of life: power, profit or poonanny,” she said. “A man will kill for all three.”
“I was raised that those three P’s for a man meant protect, procreate, and provide,” he spoke, feeling silly for mentioning it. “So, Cranberry, how was your Christmas?”
She smiled, pushing her suitcase to the side. There was lots to tell that she could share as well as the new recipes she’d received from Ruth. Passion Fruit needed a bit of variety in her diet.
Oddly, there was a reluctance in her to come back to this place. The vibe was wrong, but in her heart, she knew it had to be done. Bryan was waiting for her to come back, and she’d brought with her what he needed. Passion Fruit was waiting for her to come back, and she’d brought with her treats for the dark-hearted little woman. She had seen a need for connection, and she was able to provide it for them both.
On the stove was a pot of stew that looked as if it had been sitting there for a couple of days. Helen knew Passion Fruit ate what she hunted on the land. The stew was more than likely an animal that scavenged for a meal, which Helen wasn’t happy to put in her mouth. For shits and giggles, she brought the second bag to the table in the kitchen and opened it to pull out three very large turkey breasts. Both Bryan and Passion Fruit licked their lips. Helen also pulled out russet potatoes, carrots, and a stalk of romaine lettuce. She could almost hear them salivating. She tossed Candy a new chewy bone which the dig happily accepted.
“So,” she began, as she took the turkey breasts to the sink to clean and season, “let me start on Monday with the Christmas tree hunt and cutting, the eggnog making, and the tree trimming.”
They sat at the table listening as Helen cooked the turkey breasts like she’d seen Mustang do when her father was there. Carefully, she didn’t mention any names, nor the revelation of her cousin being her sister, or her father being a dick. At the end of the day, a man is either a good guy or he’s not. However, it didn’t matter; she understood the connections. Helen McDaniel Neary had a unique sense of how things connected together whether it made sense or not. After dinner, when Passion Fruit cleared up the plates, she pulled Helen aside.
“I don’t know how you’re going to take this, and I’m not comfortable saying it, but when the boxes arrived with the Christmas presents, Bryan and I both cried,” she said. “We missed you. The idea of you caring enough to send us presents to open on Christmas meant a lot. On Christmas morning, we both sat, eager to open our gifts. There were even presents in the box for Candy. It meant so much and neither of us realized the missing connections in our lives from having no one for so long. Him losing everything, me being bitter about life...getting cutesy shit with our names embroidered on them, that was really, thoughtful. You get it, Helen. You connect with others in a way I’ve never seen from people. Cranberry, what kind of Technician are you going to be? A cold-blooded killer, ain’t it for certain.”
Helen had had some time to think about Azreal’s words. She’d had time to put the pieces together to make the connections of what Bryan needed and the friendship Passion Fruit required. It was beginning to come together.
"I am a Technician who can make the connections," she said softly. "I am the protector of the defenseless and the women and children of the state of Indiana. I can see into the hearts of men and understand, we each must care for our fellow man in order for us all to survive. My handle is The Cranberry."
She sat that evening in front of the fire, reading the latest crime thriller, pissed at the lack of clarity in the details. She had first-hand knowledge on the disposing of a body and this author wasn’t on point with the writing. The quietness of the evening was broken by the sound of a fax machine in the other room. Bryan’s eyebrows went up, Candy the Cane Corso barked. Passion Fruit sighed, and Helen simply closed her book.
“Time for the ladies to go to work,” she said looking at Passion Fruit. The Cranberry was about to learn how to stage an accident from start to finish. Helen was ready for what came next.
- The End -