DISCLAIMER: Rizzoli & Isles and its characters are the property of Tess Gerritsen, Janet Tamaro and TNT television network.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
The Journal
By Minion of Solitude
Part 1
I'm not sure what drew me to watch the procession. They fled with such vigor from a barely rising yet still unseen sun to nip at various long shadows further down the lane, only to fade from sight as they entered another bit of mist. Other than the clomp of hooves and the Gulls' Call of their bells, some quoted as being 10 pounds and more of Cold Iron, or Brass, you felt them more than heard them. Though, `they` being the horses and carriages, mounts and riders, the odd hound, and those bells, all off to battle a conflagration. With what the stars told me last night...
Though it was more apt one was to feel the chill of that morning, and know that Death's Handmaiden would be upon their wake before either a Surgeon or Priest could discharge their duties.
A different note keens over the morning air. From the Shipyards...
Ah, I remember now. So, so very long ago, indeed.
We were a stones' throw from the river, and far closer to the docks, than I am now.
A young, almost gentle breeze of a girl beseeched one and all of her gaggle of friends, scattered about the Pavilion, to come closer and acquaint themselves with Her Man, who I saw as a strapping but ungainly fellow easily a head taller than the next in height, so very resplendent in a Midshipman's colours.
Barely had he drawn breath as nigh on a dozen pixie creatures descended upon the pair, all atwitter, as she stood to his side and announced a pledge. Between her father and that of Francis Solomon Justin Klein, of the State House of Illinois, for his nephew, Jackson Ulysses Porter, Midshipman in his 3rd form of the Naval Academy, to accept a petition of courtship be addressed from him, the Midshipman, to Abigail Marie Stone. With said father's blessing.
I Agreed
Such a noise those ladies presented drove birds away-
-before certain bell-claps rent the air on that steamy day in late May.
Mind you, the lad had yet to tender any proper speech, til those notes.
"Good Ladies, please. I shall have SILENCE!" he barked so very well. And he got it...
"Abby, my sweet, I must take my leave. I'll send word this evening. Good Day and Fair Winds, Ladies."
And with that he dashed off as only the very young can. That was 3.. no, nearly 40 years prior. I had been in the employ of the Pictmanns as a Governess, and useful as a chaperone. Early on, like so many others, over a year or 2 would find me moving slowly down the coast, performing on many a stage; Stable, Hearth, orchard, back alley, workshop, apothecary or a handful of another. Other times...
For a fair span of years I was secure in my place in the world, simply known for simple means. Then, events moves me along, and time, being what it is, I can just as easily choose to march up country, up river, or with how I had conspired, up out of the throes of this wretched, common existence.
I believe the last fork in my road now shall turn me towards either Concord or to Rochester, but to travel north with it near winter I'm almost of a mind to take the herbs that would appear to leave me addled of wit. Some fine Christians will find me, signs will augur blessings upon their house were they to offer Charity, and I can repose til the thaw.
"Maur, have you come across Any names she went by in the twentieth century? Hell, we still don't have any names, period!"
Dr. Maura Isles finished her second long pull from her choice of the morning. Some concoction with carrots, ginger, and turmeric, which, as Jane Rizzoli stated quite clearly, is why she'll stick with a beer for lunch.
"It has been fascinating reading, Jane. She has mentioned proper firefighting equipment, whomever `she` is, and I have to believe it would amount to more than a bare paragraph if it was regarding the Great Boston Fire, and since such vehicles didn't start being produced with a suction engine as of 1822, we've narrowed our time-frame. She sighed...
She also noticed they'd stopped moving, as Jane opened her door and got out. "Jane, where are we?" as she got out her side, stepping onto green grass and saw the line of trees before her, and checked her watch.
"I just pulled off. We're on the end of Fisher Ave, thats north, and over there is the Brookline Reservoir behind us," Jane said as she came down her side as Maura mirrored her, and they leaned back on the trunk just taking in everything around them. Jane hugged herself.
"Boylston St. has certainly evolved over its what, two hundred plus years. Christ, parts of it go back to the 1740's, right?"
"First traces are as far back as 1722, Jane." Maura considered where she was, and 'pointed' to the right, not quite in front of her friends' face. "You go a ways before it becomes Worcester st." And 'pointed' left, "You pass High st., this becomes Washington st., then Huntington Ave, then it splits and divides, east-bound is Stuart st..."
She drew in the air, letting the song only she was hearing play out as she mapped-
"You were paying attention to me." Clearly amazed as she looked at the profile of the taller woman beside her. And began to make her tingle just a bit more throughout her being.
"What else, Jane?"
"Let me clue you in, my good Doctor." Then she reached around the blonde's shoulders while she broadened her stance, slipped her friend to the open spot now made, and embraced her from behind. Her face being caressed by golden locks. She felt her hands, then her forearms held as Maura crossed her arms to strengthen their connection. Warm sunshine bathed them as they heard the traffic nearby.
"That there is Brookline, sitting beside a hunk of drag that is Boylston. That was dug when, Doctor?" "1848, Jane," came out more like a whisper into the air, and sent more wonderful sensations all over the brunette. "Yes, it was. And I quote from the Good Doctor: `Reservoir Park is a historic park on Boylston Street in Brookline, Massachusetts. Its principal feature is Brookline Reservoir, formerly an element of the public water supply for neighboring Boston. The reservoir was built in 1848 with 2 main buildings; Influent Gatehouse (west end) and Principal Gatehouse (NE end).`" And the sigh from the blond in her arms was the only reward she needed.
"That quote, Jane, is from a conversation we had last year."
"Yes, words came tumbling from your lips like a drizzling rain... which, you'll remember, is exactly what the day was like. Though I do like to think anything you say feels more like manna from Heaven. So, onwards, Dr."
She twisted to their right a fair degree and pointed over the trees and homes. "Northwest of us, 'bout quarter mile as a crow flies, you'll see Chestnut Hill Reservoir, established in 1870. And we need go no further with that."
Both women thought of the Boston College student found there.
"Draw a line on a map further on and you'll hit Chandler Pond. Now, bring your mind back to here, and down just north off Boylston that way will be Hammond Pond-"
"Jane?"
"Yes, Maura?"
"Where do we go next?" and she stepped away, turned around, with the sunlight catching in her hair like a halo. "Yes, Jane. You paid attention, and continue to show how disciplined a detective you are. You already have a place in mind that `fits the bill` as you would say."
"I'm thinking what whole lots of this countryside was like without any modern... everything. And I think of three things. Motive... Means... Opportunity." She stood straighter and stretched.
"Shall we grap some lunch, Maura?"
"Yes, thank you, that sounds like a winner."
They were barely halfway seated in the car before Jane said, "Hold off on anymore narration, too, Maur. That musty old book should be taken in small doses, so leave it for now.... please?" she added when she saw the look coming over the Medical Examiners' face.
"Very well, Jane." The blond popped the glovebox open and picked through the several folded yet scattered flyers jammed inside, before pulling out and unfolding a map.
"Really, Maur?"
She turned to look at Jane, raise an eyebrow, then turn further and looked thoughtfully out the back window for a moment. Facing forward, she let her finger find `Brookline Reservoir` while Jane snagged said Musty tome from the dashboard and put it on the back seat. Maura began folding the map.
"Its not far at all, Jane, but we shall take a scenic route. I'll tell you where to turn, please."
"Reeaaalllllyy."
"Yes, Jane. Straight up til you reach Clinton rd., then left."
But as they were in a residential area Jane proceeded slowly, and had barely gone a handful of car-lengths before commenting about the `driveway` beside them. "Bet ya whatever is 'round that bend is gorgeous."
And with the next looping driveway on the right, and the Home that was clearly visible said simply, "That is Fucking Gorgeous!"
And on up Fisher they drove. Jane had noticed the white street-sign and its black letters `O L M S-` when the large Red-brick home took hold of her attention, and her foot slipped over to the brake. She looked at all the open windows, especially the 4 smaller ones jutting from the roof... 14 in all, from where she was at, then let her gaze shoot from right to left, across the road, and considered the `park` on their left. And speculated what a lazy sunset might look like from one of those attic windows...
..Curled up on a cozy loveseat, just the two of us. Enjoying an evening- Wait A Minute... `us`?
"Jane, get closer to that Neo Greek, its very well influenced via `second empire` styles."
And Jane shifted her foot from brake to accelerator, and they moved forward to the white house, right.. next.. door, and she stopped them again.
Christ Almighy...
They lingered- beep-beep... beeep
A Midnight-Blue Caddie came along side, with the passenger waving a finger... "Really, girls? The sign there says it all, I think." Then it smoothly accelerated up the lane.
"Yeah, it's been lunch-time, Maur. Let's get it in gear." And with a last quick look she faced front and got them moving, keeping an ear open to the Doctor, who just day-dreamed herself.
Its at the other end of Fisher they came upon another lovely red-brick home. "..and across the street, another `white` house..." Jane groused as she stopped at the proper signage, and turned left.
"It looked more `creme` to me, Jane."
"..Yeah, and that lawn needed some serious work, too. Still..."
"Up there, go right on Chestnut. Then take Commonwealth around to Boston College, please."
"I got ya, Maur. Just sit back, and relax."
And no more words were said as those instructions were executed each in turn, and Jane sailed on, following St. Thomas More rd. down to Beacon st., and turning westward commented on how `some of these houses aren't bad, either`.
They were just flattening the curve before Jane asked, "straight through?"
"Yes, please, Jane."
And on they went, houses and side streets passing them by before, "I'm guessing we hit Beacon St. Parking Lot. Lots of choices."
"Right you are, Jane."
A couple more streets, the light, and they claimed an easy spot in the lot. Maura grabbed her purse and coat, Jane her jacket, and locking the car they skipped across to and around the sharp end of Piccadilly Square. It wasn't til they turned up Union that Jane thought and said, "Burgers! Thank You, Maura Isles."
"We're not close enough for you to see it for other than what it looks like, Jane. How did you know from this far back?"
"Please, Maur, the kids alone are a damned big clue. Throw in the bikes and scooters, and it amounts to a `foregone conclusion`, Dr."
"Very nicely done, Detective. So, yes, lunch with be `burgers`."
"And a beer!"
"Jane, of the two of us, who's driving?" Maura asked as she turned and waited for some customers to finish leaving the Diner.
"I was going to have just the one, Maur," she answered as she pulled the door open for them.
"Thank you for being very adult and mature, Jane," was Maura's response while going in.
"... But know this, it'll be a Damned Good beer-" was all that was left to be heard from Det. Rizzoli when the door closed.
To Be Continued