(The beginning of another chapter in this crime novel, with Detectives Becker and Marshall of the NYPD.  If this is your first stop here, please click back to the July 16th post, They Had the Right to Remain Silent (1)...easiest way is through the Archive section, in the left-hand column, where you’ll pick up the story from the first chapter.  Each post takes a couple of minutes to read, easy to catch up.  And for those who are set, we continue below.  Thanks for stopping by, and enjoy.)
They Had the Right to Remain Silent
Richard S. Jachimecki
Chapter ( xxvi )
     LANA MARSHALL CLIMBED the staircase. She loved scrunching the toes of her bare feet into the lush carpet treads on the steps, and she made every effort to keep her balance while carrying two full mugs upwards to the bedrooms. The sun brought a hazy light to the second floor through the arched window above the large oak front door opposite the staircase. The downstairs was still dim due to the shade of neighborhood houses across the street.
     The aroma of freshly ground beans lifted the fog from her head. She stopped midway on the landing, trying to remember if she closed the top of the machine in the basement, then heard the gears engage, and the rhythmic chunka- chunka- chunck of the water, as the load of laundry churned. She continued up the second flight wrapped in her ‘kick- back’ robe, a plush terry cloth. This was her weekend- morning cocoon, the antithesis to her workday garb of silk blouses, tailored suits and skirts. As administrator of a large metropolitan hospital, she welcomed the challenges presented to her on a regular basis. Her acumen and professional fairness gave credence to a sterling reputation in the medical community. Contract negotiations had finally reached a compromise with which both labor and management agreed. This was her first Saturday off in two months and she intended to use it and Sunday doing what gave her the most inner joy; being a wife, mother, and lady of the house. No tensions here, she always won her boys’ votes.
     Lana took a left at the top of the stairs and breezed along the open walkway, to the furthest bedroom, pushing the door open enough to poke her head inside. She found her son as he slept face down and sideways on his bed. His legs dangled, and half of the covers were on the floor.
     “Parker?” she sang.
     “Mmff,” came from underneath the pillow.
     “Practice time, baby,” she said and waited.
     “Daddy’s taking you,” she added.
     His entire body sprung, turned over and sat up on the edge of the mattress in one snap motion. The cobwebs of sleep regained their hold. He sat, shoulders slumped, eyes still shut. She watched his muscles relax in a wave, from head to toe, ready to snooze once again.
     “Parker Anthony…” she said, no tune this time.
     “I’m up. I’m up.” he said, opening one eye to see if she was still there. She hadn’t moved. He opened both eyes wide.
     “I’m awake mom,” issuing more of a complaint than a statement.
     She turned and headed for the master bedroom at the opposite end of the walkway. Parker’s eyelids dropped shut once more and his upper body flopped back down on the bed, feet still anchored to the New York Stallions– logo throw rug, spread underneath them.
  1. Anonymous says:

    Pretty good stuff, thanks for posting

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