Music City (2 page)

Defining moments
.  His father had called the moments that put all your character to the test defining moments.  “They build character,” he always said. 

Derek Stewart had reached his limit with such moments in the past three years
, thank you very much.  Quite honestly, he could do without anymore, he thought as he paced. Stopping mid-stride, he glared at the watch on his wrist and tapped the shiny face impatiently. It did not seem as though the hands were moving at all today.

With a
deep sigh, he turned on his heel and began stretching—rolling his shoulders, loosening his nerves as he approached his new office window. Still twenty minutes yet to spare. Derek raised his hands above his head and stretched to allow his fingertips to graze the bright white acoustic tiles of the office ceiling.

He stretched his neck to the right then left, relishing the release the gentle crackling of bones brought. Derek
then resumed his activity of the past half hour—pacing the hallway of their brand new office, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The office still smelled like fresh paint and carpet glue and the pungent odors brought back memories of simpler, happier times.

There
were so many relaxed Sundays, part of the day spent painting the rooms in their house the newest color Beth decided was ‘perfect.’ The rest of it spent watching old movies on television with Beth curled up next to him on the sofa.

In the morning, t
hey would brew a full pot of coffee and sit at the dining nook in the kitchen. Beth would read, occasionally aloud, from the latest bestseller that she was enjoying, and he would go through the
Lexington Herald Leader
from front to back. She would lean towards him in her chair, hugging her bare knees, her hair pulled back in a lose braid as she helped him with the Sunday crossword.

Just the thought of her natural and easygoing beauty made him a little breathless.
The last Sunday they spent together, they had lazed on the couch all afternoon nibbling on cold pizza from the night before, his hand never straying far from her slightly rounded belly. 

Derek reached the opposite end of the hallway and stopped in front of the window that looked east over First Avenue. His own reflection was all that he could see for a few seconds, the freshly cleaned panel of glass reflected the median of his outward appearance for the past year
—longer than normal black hair curling over his ears, cocoa-rich brown eyes highlighted by dark smudges, testifying to too many sleepless nights. As his tired reflection lost focus, Derek frowned and folded his arms. With a distinct awareness of being trapped on the outside, looking in, he studied the view of the city he now called home.

Near the busy street
below sat Riverfront Park, now filled with people enjoying a respite from their hectic lives.  They were eating lunch and just soaking up the fresh air and sunshine of the late spring day. Beyond the picnic tables and benches that dotted the community area, in the lawn space, a large group of teenagers enjoyed a game of touch football, they must be on Spring Break, he thought.

The Cumberland River, dotted with recreational boaters enjoying themselves on its glistening waters, snaked lazily though the park just beyond the teenagers, forming the park’s eastern border.

Across the expanse of the wide Cumberland River, Nashville shined in all of its glory. To the left sat LP Stadium, home of the Tennessee Titans, proudly guarding the riverbank.

When he turned his distracted gaze to the right, the Shelby Street Pedestrian Bridge beckoned residents, as it had since 1909, to enjoy both sides of the river that divided their city. Off in the distance the residents of East Nashville went about their daily lives. So far he was enjoying Nashville. He would enjoy it a lot more if this interview went well.

Derek never dreamed it would be this challenging to hire a secretary when he and his partner, Alex, decided to open their own private investigation firm. They had received an overwhelming response to the help-wanted ad they took out in
The Tennessean
. The resumes had flown in, but none of the candidates they’d interviewed so far were the right fit for them or the job.

As Derek stood watching the scene outside the window, he thought
again about the defining moments that had brought change to his life in the past few years.

Beth. His beautiful wife’s image came to his mind clear and bright, a perfect smile on her face, freckles dotting her nose and cheeks, giving her a sun-kissed glow, her auburn hair swept back in a messy ponytail that did nothing to tame her wild curls.

It was a Monday and Derek had left early to go to the precinct, where he and two other investigators met every morning to review the cases they were working on. Beth was preparing for her day at the salon she owned, she had two perms scheduled, but would have the afternoon free. As he was heading out the front door, Beth asked if he would meet her at a baby shop at the mall. She had seen a wonderful round crib that she knew their baby girl was going to love.

Derek remembered asking her how she knew Baby Girl would love a round crib, Beth had patted her rounded belly and said with a grin, “She told me so.”

Derek remembered laughing and asking if Baby Girl also told her she was a girl. Beth chuckled, smiled that brilliant smile and quipped, “of course she did.”

His thirty-third birthday
was the weekend before. They’d celebrated until Beth begged to go home. She was in her fifth month, and the pregnancy had slowed her down a little, but not enough to keep her from enjoying the apple juice champagne the server kept pouring and the matching leis they both wore. The server had taken pictures of them and Beth had stayed up long enough to upload them to their computer and email them to all their friends with the message: “
Life begins at Thirty!
” and included the announcement that they were finally pregnant.

The irony wasn’t lost on Derek—Beth hadn’t made it to thirty.

Beth’s death nearly destroyed him. For a long time, he wasn’t sure he would ever feel again, much less feel normal.

Derek
remembered looking down as the men lowered the casket with his wife and unborn child into the dark ground and not being able to remember a time before Beth—as if he were born in high school. As if his life was now over.

Derek looked up and noticed Alex watching him from the doorway of his office, and he smiled halfheartedly as their eyes met.

Derek had not initially liked Alex the first time that he walked into his office. Alex was arrogant, cocky and reeking of whiskey. Alex’s friend, Jessica Alverez, was mercilessly murdered, found in her car at the university where she worked, by a completely hysterical student. Alex, current boyfriend and housemate of Jessica's had no alibi and immediately became a suspect. Alex came to Derek, who was the lead investigator on the case and explained that he wanted, more than anything, to help find the killer, the real killer.

Jessica and Alex had
shared a home for more than three years. She was a professor at the University in their Forensic Science Department. Many of the detectives on the force, including Derek, had taken one or more of her classes throughout the years and took her murder personally.

When Alex stormed Derek’s office, he admitted that in his previous life, he had worked for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Immediately, Derek called the Louisville Division of the FBI. After being cycled from one person after another, finally with the mention of Alex’s name, a jovial voice came on the line and announced that he was Ross Skinner, the Special Agent in charge at the Louisville division.

Derek quickly discovered that Alex was telling the truth—up to a point. Alex had not elaborated on his experience with the FBI, only mentioned that he had worked with Evidence Response Teams. How Agent Skinner had laughed when Derek asked if Alex indeed had experience on an Evidence Response Team! Agent Skinner had bellowed, “Lieutenant, he is or was one of the foremost Forensic Specialists in the entire country—he was the Assistant Special Agent in Charge of the Evidence Response Teams for the entire east coast. He’s got degrees in Criminal Justice, Psychology and a Juris Doctorate—all from Harvard. Alexander Howard is the real deal.”

Derek had pictured the disheveled man sitting in his office in bafflement. Alex’s short cropped salt and pepper hair askew; his gruff face well past a five o'clock shadow—he was in desperate need of a shave; his wrinkled shirt barely tucked into his frayed jeans. Derek had a very difficult time believing the man he had just heard described was the same person.

During the course of the investigation, Derek learned that he and Alex had more in common than he ever would have imagined. Like Derek, Alex had lost his own wife and his daughter in a gruesome murder, a murder that remained unsolved. Alex shouldered the blame for their deaths because of his position at the Bureau. Alex believed their murders were the act of a criminal with the misguided thought that they were obtaining retribution against him for something done in the line of duty.

Instead of drowning himself in work like Derek had done, Alex had taken a leave from his division at the Bureau, somehow landed in Lexington with Jessica Alverez, and tried to lose himself in alcohol
while writing murder mysteries to pass the time.

The
Bureau wanted Alex back. They had made that abundantly clear, but because he was so valuable to them, they were willing to let him work everything out on his own for as long as it took and come back when he was ready. Alex had turned them down more times than Derek could count since he had known him, so Derek believed him when he said that phase of his life was over.

These days, the drinking had stopped, but he still didn’t shave with any regularity or use an iron. Alex and Derek had become unlikely friends. Alex had indeed proved invaluable in solving Jessica's murder and Derek was grateful to him for the different perspective he had brought to his own life.
In the back of his mind, Derek still worried just a little that Alex would pick up and go back to the Bureau one day, but according to Alex, that was never going to happen.

It was because Alex was so adamant that Derek had agreed to open the investigative firm with him and move to Nashville. So that both of them could have a fresh start—new career, new city, new lives.

Derek looked at his list and sighed. This was the last interview that they had scheduled. Tracy Shepard. She was last on the list and he hoped against hope that she would be the person they were searching for.

Derek turned from the window and glanced at his watch—again—it was quarter to three, she would be here any minute. He shook his head and laughed to himself, wondering if Tracy would be yet another young starlet waiting for her big break, hoping to work as a secretary so she could eat until all of her dreams came to fruition? Over half of the previous interviews
were just that. While they were nice people and he supposed they could make do with one or two of them if they had to, they really needed someone who was going to stick with them long term.

Alex interrupted his thoughts, “Stop worrying about it; either she’ll be the right fit, or she won’t. If she’s not, we’ll find the right one, everything has a way of working out.”

Derek smiled at his business partner, “I know you’re right,” Derek slapped Alex on the back and laughed. “Hey, look at us. Who would’ve thought when we first met that we’d become friends, much less partners?”

Alex shrugged. “We’re friends?”

Derek laughed again. “Nice. I was just thinking about the first time I met you a few minutes ago, actually.”

“All good, right?”

Derek hid a grimace and walked away, leaving Alex with his thoughts.

Alex thought back to the day he had met Derek. Alex briefly looked up at the light fixtures in his office and recalled that he was prompted to seek out Derek because of one almost exactly like it.

That fateful day Jessica
was murdered he needed to do something to stay busy. His hands shook as he pulled a utility ladder from the hall closet and carried it into the kitchen. Jessica asked him a few weeks ago what he thought about buying new light fixtures and he ignored the idea for the most part, saying something about how they only needed a good cleaning. He  never got around to the actual cleaning, of course.

With a grim expression on his face, Alex climbed the fold-out ladder and unscrewed the cap that held the round light cover in place.

When he held the globe in his hands, he realized that the darkness he had thought was dirt was, in reality, an envelope folded in half, and then in half again. He unfolded it and recognized Jessica’s elegant writing across the front. ‘Alex’ was written in her bold, slightly italicized script on the outside.

Alex had stared at the creased envelope for an indeterminate amount of time before he finally tucked it carefully into his hip pocket and then he had replaced the globe, his teeth gritted as he noted with chagrin and regret that the globe had not needed
a good cleaning he first thought. He slowly stepped down the ladder, gripping the rungs to steady himself as he went, and then with jerky movements, had folded the ladder and put it back inside of the hall closet. He glanced back into the kitchen and grief overtook him as he quietly pulled the door shut.