Grant’s alarm went off early. Murder complained with a grunt and a groan without waking. He got dressed and tiptoed out of Giselle’s guest bedroom. He headed toward the main room where he was sure he’d find something to leave a note with. He found Levi already awake on the couch. He was reading and was clearly very engrossed. Grant opened a drawer in a table in the foyer.
“I can be your note,” Levi looked up from the novel. As Grant sat beside him, Levi smiled a very sad smile. “Sorry about your Nan. What do you want me to tell my sister?”
“Thanks, tell her that I crept out to handle the nasty business of tying up Grandma Ethel's affairs. I’ll be back to the penthouse about four.”
“Okay.” Levi swiped the phone, turning to his next page.
Grant sighed. He didn’t know what to say to him. Murder had filled him in on Levi’s version of dream walking. He couldn’t even imagine.
“Are you gonna be okay to do this tonight? We can put it off.”
Levi shot him an annoyed look. “I’m sure I can handle it.”
“I’m sorry I just wanted you to know it’s okay with me if you can’t. See you tonight. I’m sorry you had to relive that.” Grant walked out the front door.
Me too, Grant, me too.
***
Grant had already been to the lawyer and the nursing home, and now he had to go to the funeral home. Grandma had left him a safety deposit box key. So he needed to go to the bank too.
What he didn’t want to do today was to go home. The Noble Estate. A tiny two-bedroom house he’d lived in his whole life. He laughed at the irony of it being a Tudor cottage. It was his now, but it had been for years already, technically.
The memories of Grandma and Grandpa and his parent’s car crash. All too much today. His cell bleeped. He pulled over. Texting and driving was a zero-tolerance policy for NYPD employees. A policy he was on board with. Car wrecks suck.
Dearest Grant.
I love you.
Please come home to me safely.
And hurry,
you shouldn't be alone in grief.
He replied:
Murder, my love.
I count the moments...
If you’re at the penthouse then
You’re between my next two stops.
I have a present for you,
And I have been willed
a mysterious vault key
Accompany me to the bank?
:Kissy face emoji:
He received an immediate response:
Yes, please rescue me from boredom,
Handsome Knight!
We must recoup your Treasure
from the vile (but misunderstood) dragon
of Gringotts.
P.S. Presents are my favorite thing.
-Murder
He laughed at her cursive signature. Silly iPhone. He’d swing by the homestead after all, for one of Ethel’s roses he’d been tending the last five years. He couldn’t really say he was going to miss her. He’d already missed her for years.
He was young enough when his parents died, that Grant I and Ethel had become his parents. He was very glad that Murder had met his grandmother. Even though it was the briefest of encounters.
***
Murder had messaged Grant, telling him to park in the deck. She wanted to take the Jaguar out. He really didn’t mind at all. It was nice to ride in and seeing her in it was a delight.
Flashing back through his memories of her, he realized she always wore a dress. Never pants, never a skirt. He smiled, she was odd, but he loved it. She always looked stunning and high class. She was waiting in the Jaguar and was engrossed with something on her iPad. She smiled at him as she put the tablet away.
“GarageBand,” she offered, noticing his interest in the tablet. “Love being able to demo a song whenever I get the idea.”
He yielded a single red rose. “I clipped the thorns this time around. It's the last batch of the season.”
She smiled at the rose and breathed in its essence. She held the breath and closed her eyes, remembering her one meeting with Grandma Ethel. “Thank you so much. It's the last of her season too, I love it.” She held up an ornate key. “I have a box at the same bank. It’s been untouched since 1977, and I’ve largely forgotten what’s inside of it.”
Grant smiled, “I love a good time capsule.”
***
They parked at the bank and Grant took her hand.
“I said I had a gift for you, but, it requires an explanation first.”
“Is it truly a present if it requires an explanation?”
“I just don’t want you to think I'm rushing into anything out of sorrow or grief.” He reached into his breast pocket and retrieved a beautiful, but simple, gold and emerald ring. “I don’t know how old it is. Grandpa told me it came all the way from England with the Noble family. I don’t know. I just know that Grandma wore it, as did Mom.”
Murder’s eyes got wet at the corners.
“I... it seems like a lot.”
“If it’s too much for you now, it’s okay. I’ll hold it for you. I want this ring to wind up on the hand of a woman I love just like it always was.”
“So you’re not proposing now?”
“I'm not. I’m just professing my feelings, no…” He shook his head, “My love... We have enough pressure on us outside of that right now.
Levi looked miserable this morning. I’m young still, you’re immortal. Why rush it? Also, it matches your eyes.”
She smirked. The smirk tended to mean he’d said the right thing. As she put on the ring, it sparked. “Goodness Grant, this thing is powerful, what are you? I mean— that sounded rude. But, we need to look into your family. This ring is surging.”
“You’re okay, right?”
“Oh yes. This ring is powerful but it’s also good. I feel love, and... loved? It’s amazing.”
“I put it on my pinky. I didn’t feel anything.”
“It’s a girl's ring, silly” she smirked again.
He laughed. But maybe there was something to intent. He knew next to nothing about his magical side. Blast, Ethel!
***
The bank manager took Grant’s key and his master key and turned them in the small five-inch square door. He handed Grant the box, and they all walked to the older vault to retrieve Murder’s box. This section of the bank of New York had much more ornate boxes. Murder’s key was an aged skeleton-style key and didn’t require the manager key. It turned with a loud clunk and a sound like electricity. Grants' eyes were wide with anticipation. Murder looked amused at him.
“What?” She asked.
“There’s actually a magical section of the Bank of New York. I’m just excited.”
“I assure you nothing in this box is magical. It’s going to be mostly memorabilia. And it’s kind of a bad time in my life that I need to face.” Grant’s wonder turned to concern. He took her hand as the manager walked them to a private room.
***
Levi had truly needed that. A good book where the good guys win, the world is saved, and the ending is happy. Of course, leaving a stray plot thread or two for the next book. He wished the real world worked that way. He knew that eventually, maybe even soon, his story would end. There was no happy ending that he could see. He pulled up the messaging app to look back at Colin’s messages. He decided to hope tonight would be easy, normal and that there’d be nothing but a good meeting with a kind boy. Even so, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he might be bad news for kind boys.
He went to the closet, he needed to kill his look this evening. He received a text from Murder:
Hope you’re feeling better.
I’ll be home soon.
We don’t have to go to this thing tonight.
We can leave instead if that’s what you need.
Paris is nice this time of year.
Love you
-Murder
***
Grant noticed a tear in her eye as she locked the iPhone.
“Is he okay?”
“I just sent him some love. A reminder that he and I are a partnership. Which is also why I decided to open this box with you.”
“I’m not sure I follow.”
“Soho In 1977 is one of my great failures. And if we’re going to get serious, I want you to see a bad time in my life too. I’m not all stars, waltzes, and roses.”
“I… I’m a detective. I notice the sadness you have too.”
“I had intended to be all dramatic and ask you if you’d ever killed anyone. But, like you said, you’re a detective. I doubt you can find any officers with half a decade on the force that haven’t.”
“Yes, twice. Both completely not avoidable.”
“And both in the line of duty, both protecting someone other than yourself?”
He nodded. He also frowned. She let go of his hand and opened the safety deposit box. “This is me and Debbie Harry.” She handed him a Polaroid photo. He smiled. She and the Blondie singer were standing in front of CGBG smiling, laughing, and holding hands.
“My God. I— it’s so—”
“Weird? Yes. Surreal?”
“This doesn’t look like a failure, it looks like a dream come true.”
She smirked. “Easy Grant Noble, you aren’t allowed to have a crush on any of my friends. Even if we aren’t friends anymore.”
“Sorry. It’s kind of hard to not crush on her.”
“True, and you didn’t meet her, she was infectious, so very cool. And her boyfriend and guitarist, Chris, was a real genius.”
“I sense a but coming.”
She laughed. She didn’t smirk. She frowned.
“Looks like a big but, too.”
“I kind of… bought my way in. Which was really not very ’Punk’ of me. I had a rehearsal space filled with instruments. They were on the cusp of fame and I agreed to help.
I was naive. I didn’t understand the scene I thought was so cool. I showed up in my brand new Lotus Espirit, and my designer jeans I spent half the day ripping and got myself in trouble. I killed a 22-year-old man who wanted my money and my car— And my body.”
“He attacked you?”
“Yes, and I ended his life.”
“I call that self-defense.”
“Yes, but I already had more than my fair share of life. Look. I love living. I love making music. I loved seeing history unfold and hope to see where it goes from here. I love you. But you will die and leave me.” He held her. She sobbed deeply. “I would give it all up to never kill again. Debbie saw me heal. I worshipped her and she called me a monster.” She cried more. “You’ve killed people Grant, but not for your own self. For others.”
“You were a victim. He tried to rape you. It’s really not fair that you’re kind enough to feel guilty over forty years later. But. I understand. I think I’d feel guilty too. I feel guilty over the men I killed. Everyday.”
“I’m sorry. But I had to share that with you, and I had to face it. Being back here really stirred it up.”
“I’ve got nothing personal holding me here now. I love New York, but I can be a detective anywhere.”
“That’s what I needed to know. If you’d see me differently. If you’d come if I decide to run instead of fight.”
“I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth. I’ll fight too. I don’t know if running will work,” he paused as he had remembered something. “Strange thing. The woman, in the dreamscape. She used your voice to sing Heart Of Glass to me when she expelled you from my dream.”
Murder thought about it for a second but then shrugged it off. “Heart Of Glass wasn’t recorded until after I left New York, as far as I know. Maybe it was a coincidence.” Her eyes got wide as she looked at his box with anticipation. “Let’s open yours.” She put the photos, guitar picks, and fliers into her purse.
Grant breathed in deeply as he opened his box. In the back was a stack of letters. He picked one up. They were old correspondence between Ethel Thomas and Grant Noble I.
Murder’s eyes grew two sizes, and she already had big eyes. “Oh, Grant!” Her eyes were wet again and he was unsure why. “These are love letters!” She rolled her eyes at his lack of interest. “I sometimes forget how young you really are. Love letters are so exciting. It’s like a glimpse into the soul of a couple. They’re a lost art.”
“And they might have some answers about where my magic comes from.”
“Just like a detective. If you don’t mind, I want to read these. I miss love letters.” Grant decided to write her a beautiful poetic love letter. Okay, dweeb. Back to the box. In the bottom corner was a square green felt jewelry box. It was about three inches by three. It creaked and squeaked as he opened it.
Inside was an old pocket watch. It was brass and had a fairly large emerald in the center. Under the watch was a note. As he clicked the watch open, the room was briefly Illuminated with a green light.
Grant’s eyes shimmered for just an instant. The inside of the watch had moon phases and exposed gears. It was a beautiful piece.
Murder grabbed his wrist. She looked up at him, brow scrunched. “I wonder what it does?”
Grant unfolded the note.
Grant Noble III,
Time waits for no man.
Unless they are you.
You’ll know what to do when the “time” comes.
-Ethel Elaine Thomas-Noble
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