Morgan and Bijou

By Carter Burke

Still reeling from the loss of the two most important men in her life, Morgan retreats to Chicago, the city that she loves as much as Atlanta. Being forced to take the helm of the organization that she feels so close to, her dedication is waning, and she feels lost. However, an unlikely ally comes to her rescue, and she finds herself slowly getting her spirit back as she discovers loss is never really the end and that sometimes it can be a new beginning.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 4, 2014
• ISBN: 9781503510685

Carter Burke

Carter Burke has always had a love of reading and turned that love into a passion for writing. Born in Columbus, Ohio, she enjoys traveling to different locations to build her stories and give them a backdrop of some of the cities she has visited. Carter has always worked in the administrative field but found that writing was a way for her to relax during the weekends after busy days at the office. Carter has two adult children and two grandchildren and enjoys fishing and watching classic movies. She also enjoys listening to all types of music, including classic rock, classical, and old school rhythm and blues. Carter states that scouting out new locations for her novels gives her a great thrill because she gets to experience the ambiance of the different locations and to interact with people on a level that is down-to-earth and genuine.

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Morgan and Bijou

Carter Burke

Copyright © 2014 by Carter Burke.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 10/27/2014

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CONTENTS

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII

XIV

XV

XVI

XVII

XVIII

She left the bar. She walked toward her car, ever so slightly staggering as not to be obvious. She noticed the shadow coming up behind her, not quickly just out of eye sight. Leaning against her car door, fumbling with her keys; she couldn’t find the key hole. Dropping the keys, she slowly slid down pretending she couldn’t reach her keys without staggering a little, she heard the slow footfalls on the pavement and she knew she had a mark. There was always one. She smiled to herself. They make it so easy, looking for victims its always funny how quickly the tables turn. The victimizer becomes the victim. Poetic justice. His voice was close to her ear, the smell of alcohol filled her nose and she had to hold the nausea that she felt in her stomach at the smell.

C’mon, I need to show you something.

She felt the rush of adrenaline – but not for the reasons people normally have that rush in these situations. She was neither afraid nor caught off guard. Execution was the best part of a good plan. Still, she played her roll perfectly. The drunk woman, no one to help her, damsel in distress. She liked playing with them, toying with them, it always made the outcome so much better. So she played her roll perfectly, worthy of an academy award.

Please, no, I’m just a little drunk.

If you don’t scream, I’ll let you live.

She could feel his arm wrap around her waist, removing her from her car to the alleyway, his hot breath, whispering in her ear.

Just do what I say, everything will be fine, I’m not going to hurt you.

The woman whimpered, she felt him become aroused. As they slowly walked behind the building, their shadows on the wall showing a macabre dancing to music that wasn’t there, near the wall he spun her around to grab her neck pushing against the cool, damp bricks. The knife, finding soft flesh, entered smooth as butter and then, the upswing. The body fell, slowly to the ground, the look of surprise was priceless and the faint sound of the shutter on the phone as it snapped the picture.

I

Morgan’s phone rang so shrill that she almost jumped out of her skin. Not normally one to be squeamish or excitable, the past few months had taken its toll on her emotions. Losing John to his illness and her father in Columbus, realizing that she alone was left to run an organization that had been so much apart of both of their lives had given her such range on all the emotions she could possibly have. She was grateful for everything these men had given to her and she wanted to do the right thing with the organization but in her mind, it was their organization and she never even thought of the scenario that she would be left alone with it.

It was her service letting her know that her 9:00 appointment had cancelled and that she had several messages waiting for her when she arrived at the office. She turned over and looked at the clock. 8:45 am. Good thing the 9:00 cancelled she would have never made it to work on time. Her coffee maker had already made the coffee and shut off, the remnants of Columbian still faint in the air. She stood at the window with her view of Lake Michigan. The decision to relocate from Atlanta to Chicago after learning she was to run the Foundation, didn’t take much thought. There was no one left to discuss it with. Atlanta had too many memories for her, sad ones. Too many losses. At least here, buried among the other foundations on Michigan Avenue, she could blend, hide, and relax or at least try to put the past behind her as best she can. The first training facility was still in Atlanta and she turned that division over to a dear friend from the early days when they were all young and starting out together. He was tired of active pursuit and wanted a family and kids. You can’t do family and kids when you’re chasing bad guys across the continents. She decided to have a training academy in Chicago as well. Just in case she wanted to participate in training, although right now, she wasn’t sure of anything. Morgan took a swallow of almond milk, poured out the coffee to make fresh and decided that she would take a walk down Michigan Avenue before her day officially began. The working people were busy arriving on the Red line, the Brown Line, merging into Chicago to do what they did best. She laughed thinking about taking a run. Putting on her jogging gear, she headed to the private elevator which took her to the lobby of the large building without any company. It was strange to be alone in an elevator but she knew she would have to get used to doing a lot of things alone. It wasn’t something she looked forward to because it was something she never had to think about. Why is it that people never think that some day due to circumstances or fate, they would end up alone? Stepping into the beautiful lobby, she did pause to look at the décor. Brilliantly simple but very extravagant. Stepping out into the light of the work day, the people hurried by her heading to their destinations with a purpose in mind. It was too early for the tourist, these were strictly business people, students, people with somewhere to go. She was always mindful of the fact that she wasn’t heading to work and decided to take more like a brisk walk than a run, staying out of the way of the people who were trying to get somewhere. It used to bother her when she would stop at a convenience store and the line of working people trying to catch their busses or get to work on time were stopped by people with no particular place to go standing, playing their numbers or chatting with the clerk holding up the line. She did understand the need for conversation for some people who have nothing particular to do but it would be courteous if they waited until 9:00 when everyone who had to be at work were there leaving time for the leisure people to have their conversations and tick the time away in the company of a store clerk or coffee shop personnel who until the lunch hour had time to conversate. It did give her a thrill to be out and about with the working people, she was one now. Being an operative was different. You didn’t keep the same hours unless the perpetrator kept those hours. You were free to manage your time around your assignment or in sync with your assignment, missing the rush hour traffic, being part of the leisure crowd. It was different now. She was a corporate head and adjusting herself to something that she only witnessed second hand was going to be strange. She wondered if she could adjust. She knew she had to.

The weather was just nice enough. The harsh winter was waning and spring was getting close. You feel the change in the wind, in the trees, on the street. She stopped at the Dunkin’ Donuts and ordered her breakfast sandwich and coffee, taking a seat in one of the tables near the window to watch the business day unfold. Taking small bites of her sandwich she watched and could time the Red Line as it stopped in its underground stations and then observing the people climbing up into the daylight like so many ants when you kick open their nests. All about their business they scurried this way and that, some stopping coffee, others already sipping, still others pausing to light a cigarette to enjoy on the walk to their many offices and buildings. People breezed in and out of the shop, grabbing their breakfast and their coffee, pausing to grab a paper, taking no notice of her. Some people standing in line having conversations that were either just being polite or between people who work in the same offices planning their strategy for the day. It was lovely to be lost in the crowd. Morgan realized that she would probably love being in a city like this. No driving necessary although there were a lot of cars around. Parking didn’t seem to be something that was at a premium so she didn’t understand the cars but to each his own. Finishing her breakfast and noticing that the crowds were starting to thin out as people reached their destinations, Morgan headed back to Michigan Avenue, pausing to look up at the tall building that was her home. It seemed to Morgan that she had come a long way in short period of time. No time to grieve. She knew it was not expected of her from either of the men in her life. Her father died the way he lived, saving people, John, leaving a legacy. Legacy was important to John, saving people was what her father believed in. She questioned herself as she stared up at the buildings and glanced around her. Did their beliefs become her beliefs? If not, what was it exactly that she believed in?

Betty Sue read the headlines on the morning paper. She was appalled that crime was getting so rampant. The world use to be a nice place. Another man has gone missing and a body was found in an alley stabbed to death. That’s the fifth in what is being called The Alley Murders. Betty Sue picked at the eggs on her plate. Why does something always have to have a logo, a catch phrase? She folded the paper neatly and put her eggs in the microwave for a moment to heat them, they had gotten cold on her plate and she hated cold eggs. It was almost 9:00 and she knew she was going to be late for work again, but she didn’t care. Suddenly her thoughts shifted and strange vivid images were running through her mind. Disturbing images that she couldn’t quite make out but made her heart race and frightened her although she didn’t know why. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, releasing it slowly to circumnavigate the riff she felt herself getting into. The pictures were fading. This time it worked. The train of thought derailed with her deep breaths and she could once again focus on what was happening right now. She picked her purse off the table and headed to work. When she closed the door behind her, the soft sound of the microwave finishing its run chimed softly in the background. The bus pulled slowly away from the curb as Betty exited her building to catch it. Now she would really be late but she made a half hearted effort to run. The driver, apparently used to seeing Betty catch the bus, slowed and allowed her to not miss her ride to work.

Hey Betty, almost missed me again.

She nervously pulled her card out and scanned it.

Yes Mr. Davis, sometimes it’s just hard to get up in the mornings.

I hear you. Not to be disrespectful, you do look like you need a little sleep.

I don’t think that is disrespectful, truthful maybe, but not disrespectful.

You need a vacation that’s all.

I do need a bit of a respite Mr. Davis.

She walked toward the middle of the bus. It was later than the regular time and although you would think rush hour was about over, the bus was still pretty crowded with people. Maybe they decided to be late as well. Must be that type of morning. She sat alone, and moved close to the window to look out at what she passed every morning. Even though she had the same view it always seemed new to her. No one really noticed her on the bus and no one tried to make any contact with her which was nice. She didn’t know many people in Chicago even though she had lived here for a while. Making friends wasn’t something she really wanted to do. Her life was in a nice pattern, work, a little leisure time, not too many distractions. Still she felt good that Mr. Davis knew who she was and spoke to her. She watched as Mr. Davis maneuvered the bus through the narrow streets in Hyde Park, he did this so well. She never asked him but she bet he had been driving this route for a long time, knowing every nuance of the streets that he took the large bus down. Betty Sue could feel herself flinch as the bus turned to cross over to make its way to the Red Line station. It made her nervous but she couldn’t keep her eyes off the road, as if she were driving the bus as well. When they arrived, two busses were in front of the entrance and people getting off picked up the pace picked up as the green light flashed for the incoming train. She was adept at running the slippery steps to the platform and always made it before the last car came in. Trains were longer during the rush period but judging from the time, this would probably be the last long bus. She caught them later in the morning sometimes but thought to herself about who makes the decision to shorten the train and at what time. Such nonsense rolling through her mind but she didn’t worry about that. Sometimes it was nice to think about nonsense as opposed to thinking about reality. Not too many people getting off, quite a few getting on and as she took a seat again at the window and she watched as the fourth bus pulled up and passengers ran toward the platform only to slow down and stop as the train pulled out of the station without them. The train moved toward downtown in the middle of the Dan Ryan. Settling in she was glad that she was near a window and always felt apprehensive when she couldn’t get to one. It made her feel not so shut in and she could breath easier with the window to look out of. She still wondered why she was in such a large city. It wasn’t as if she were born here. When she first moved to the city from one of the nameless small towns in Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, she was afraid of everything. Different people, sounds, languages, food. It was so different from her very beige existence. Chicago was alive with sounds and smells and people that she had never seen before. People of different backgrounds, languages and races. Sometimes she would stare transfixed when she heard Dutch or Russian being spoken in conversation. She admired the Jamaicans, the people from the different African nations who dressed in their native outfits. She loved the food smells so much that she would inhale and try to pick out the ingredients that produced it. Betty would purposely stand in front of restaurants sometimes, not wanting to go in just to admire the smells that were coming out of it. Other times she wondered why she was in such a big city. In speaking with some of her co-workers, many had come to find excitement, husbands or just to be in the thrill of a big city with all the motion and vibes. Those concepts were exciting but that wasn’t at all was she was looking for. She wanted to blend, to not be noticed and where else in the world could you disappear except in a big city. It had its charm and there were many things someone could do without having a companion to do it with. Being alone in a big city was not something that made you stand out. She gazed out the window without really seeing, her mind was gently lulled to relaxing.

Loose squares, loose squares.

The man had walked by so fast that even if she smoked she probably wouldn’t have caught his attention. A lady closer to the door did happen to wave her hand and he stopped quickly to give her what he was selling. Transactions had to be completed quickly because it wasn’t exactly lawful to do this selling on the trains but it happened and people took advantage of it if there was something they needed. She remembered buying a pair of gloves and a hat from a man who was gliding by. All she did was motion and he stopped quickly. He didn’t rush her but his urgency was noticed. Betty reminded her self to keep a little cash, very little on the ready in case a bargain walked past her one morning. It was exciting to her, a thrill to do something that was so obviously illegal but to her so harmless. Maybe not so harmless but it made her feel part of the city. The train passed Socks 35th. She always liked to imagine getting off there and going to a game. She had been to Wrigley field several times but not Socks. Apparently you were either one or the other but not both. She was actually neither but if dressed the part no one knew. As the stations went by she rose from her seat to make her way to the door. Better to be ready to get off when the door opens than to have to jostle between the people coming in and getting off unexpectedly. The rush to get in was as hurried as the rush to get out. It took her awhile to get used to that and her first few weeks at work were a series of missed exits until she realized how it worked. After a while she felt as at home on the subway as the others and she never missed her stop again. She made her way up the steps to the Dunkin Donuts that sat on the corner. She was working on Van Buren. At lunch she could walk to Michigan Avenue so she enjoyed that fine. Betty worked at an insurance company. Same type of job everyday which she enjoyed and nothing that was changing. She got her coffee, light sweet and a donut. She really didn’t like the fancy donuts, just a cake donut. She sat at the little tables they had near the window and watched the late people running for work. She actually still had a little time. Her boss was out of the office for a few days and she could always say she forgot to tell them she would be a little late. Her job was secure for now although she had heard rumors, no one bothered her whether she came in or not. She studied the actuarial tables, spoke to brokers. Betty Sue had her own office with a window, not because she was so important but that was Underwriter’s Row as it was and she happened to be one. She didn’t go to school for that but had a love of statistics and after all she reasoned when she applied for the job, what are actuarial tables but statistical data. Her office was small but nice and without the window it would be just a step above a cave but she didn’t care. It was more than she expected. In fact, she had no expectations at all when she came to Chicago. She had very little money but enough to keep her going until she found permanent employment. Job interviews were beginning to be done all online and she didn’t like that impersonal aspect. She had put her resume everywhere it seemed and then decided one day while working a temporary assignment that she would narrow her scope and get into the insurance industry. It seemed nice and safe and nondescript. Her fortune changed when she started that this agency as a temp worker and after proving that she was very good at what she was doing, she was offered a full time position. It only took six months of working around which was fortunate for her because her money was just about to run out. She was living on Raman Noodles, Tea and crackers by the time this job came along. Funny, with her first paycheck she bought a sandwich from Pot Bellies. It was her first splurge. She smiled at the thought of that. Now, she was making pretty good money and although she still was