My Favourite Muse

CHAPTER THREE

  The morning light hit Nicole's sleepy face. The emotional trauma she went through the previous day made her forget to draw the drapes of her bedroom window. So she ignored the faint illumination even though it's penetrating her eyes. She was weak but calm and refreshed. Thanks to Joe.

  The phone broke into an annoying shrill and her eyes jolted open. She sighed, cursed stretched a hand to reach for the receiver. She’s comfortably nestled in Joe's arms, reluctant to move.

  "Dr Ingermanson." she said in a sleepy voice.

  "Good morning; Owen Craig here. Sorry to wake you, I got your message about Maggie's death."

  "Oh; morning Owen; sorry, I couldn't get through to her granddaughter and didn't know who else to call."

  "I understand. It's sad and I'm deeply sorry for the loss, I know you two were close." a pause. "If there's anything you’d need me to do, beside my legal obligations, please let me know."

  "Alright, I will. Thanks."

  "So what time should I drop by the hospital to see you?"

  "Seven."

  "Alright then, I'll be there. Please accept my condolence once again. See you later."

  "See you." She held on to the receiver until she heard the click, then the dialling tone.

  "Who was it?" Joe asked.

  "Owen Craig. Maggie's attorney." she said, putting down the receiver.

  "Oh" he sighed. "What time is it?"

  Nicole had no idea. The alarm clock was still quite; it's not yet seven thirty. She checked the time from the black digital clock beside the bed, hesitated, watched the green figures on the screen counting down; ten seconds later, the alarm set off.

  "Seven Thirty." she said; grabbed a robe and got out of bed.

  Joe walked into the kitchen and saw Nicole sitting at the table looking out the window with a glass of juice before her. She sat still; her mind obviousely farther than the sea of Carson City sky scrapers in her view. He knew she still harboured hangovers of grief and sorrow from Maggie's death. He thought her blond hair, though a little rumpled, looked golden in the illumination coming from the window.

  "Morning sweaty." and what the hell are you thinking about. "Can I bring you back from the land of far far away?" She turned, smiled weakly. "Morning."

  "How are you feeling?"

  "Good. I'm glad you came over."

  "I had to; you couldn't stop crying." He pointed at her eyes "Your eyes are still sore."

  "Yeah, I know. They'll clear off in a short while. It happens whenever I cry."

  There was a little pad on the table just beside her glass of juice. Joe saw what she had scribbled on it.

  "PABLO. Who's that?" he asked; sitting opposite her. She followed his gaze to the pad.

  "I'm looking for clues"

  "Clues?"

  "It's Maggie's last word and I’m trying to figure out whose name it is- that's if it's a person. What does it mean if it's an abbreviation?"

  "So what did you get?"

  "Nothing; I mean, she never mentioned it to me. So I don't know where to start. It could be anything; a security code, a password, a nick name, a grandfather's name, a lover's name..."

  "A husband's name?" he added

  "I doubt that. Her husband’s name was Fletcher. Edward Fletcher."

  "So if it's an abbreviation, what would it be? Let's see... I got it! Party At Bobby's Later On"

  "Get out of here; that's ridiculous." She smiled.

  "No it's not; I'm serious." he joked. "Well, my best guess settles on a security code."

  "That's what I thought too. It's a possibility because she never mentioned it. People don't speak of their security codes the way they speak about their matrimonial fiascos"

  "So what do you think the code would be securing; that's if it's a security code?"

  "I have no idea, Joe. The way Maggie struggled to say it a few seconds before her death is puzzling. She used to tell me almost everything whenever we are together, but this..." She sighed and rubbed her face. "I don't know. I knew someone of her age must have lots of skeletons she's hiding or protecting in her closet. That's why I need to know what that name is all about."

  "How are you going to do this; are you going to start by ripping her house apart?"

  She shot a glance at him; his statement hit on her. The house, she thought.

  Yes, the house!

  She stood up and hurried out of the kitchen.

  "What; what are you doing? Nicole!" Joe called.

  "Going for a ride?" She yelled in a serious tone.

  Here we go again; he thought. Joe sat there and waited; murmured 'wow, this is great' under his breath while he toyed with the pad.

  Sometimes Nicole's obsessions worry him, a lot. By definition, she stands out a diehard go-getter who stops at nothing to quench an obsession. Of course there's absolutely nothing wrong with that. But everything is wrong if it leads her to trouble. And sometimes, she never sees it coming until when it happened, then she looks for a solace and that's where Joe comes in. The thought is killing him.

  He loves her, but it seems she doesn't see that; he thinks she 'pretends' not to. But they hug, kiss, make love and cry in each other’s arms in turn whenever situations get complicated for either of them. What sort of life and living is that? And worse; she's got a new obsession now, this means trouble has already began tapping him on the shoulder.

  Nicole appeared shortly, dressed up in blue jeans and a thick coat over a black T-shirt. Without a word, she headed for the door, whisked her car keys from the key stool.

  "Wait; are you supposed to be doing that?" He asked, stepping into the living room just when she was working on the locks.

  "Yes, because that's what Jesus would do."