RED SOX: But soft, opening day approacheth.
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Sage and Mr. Matthews entered the spacious dinning room together. Mr. Matthews stopped just inside the door to obtain a drink at the courtesy bar. Sage noticed J. Granville was already leaning there in deep conversation with a clearly drunken Cade.
Sage decided to skip that particular family drama and jump directly into the main event. She easily found Simone in the center of the room surrounded by most of her children. Without missing a step, Sage made her way toward the only woman she had ever called mother.
"Darling, I was beginning to worry you'd miss our dinner entirely," Simone greeted her as Sage crossed the room.
"Are you sure you're up to this evening?" Sage questioned when she heard the sight slur of Simone's words.
Brook placed a steadying hand to Simone's elbow. "Sage has a point, Mom. You've been through an awful lot the last few days. Maybe you should go to the suite and rest. I can bring your meal to you. The three of us can have a nice, quiet dinner together."
"Don't be ridiculous. I'm feeling the best I have in years. Perhaps, I should get tackled more often," Simone stated as evenly as she could before sipping a pale, bubbly drink from the Champaign flute in her hand.
"Now, Mom…," Phil began to speak.
"God, I hate it when he calls me that. He's nearly as old as I am," Simone muttered into Sage's ear when they embraced hello.
Sage chuckled softly. Simone was quite funny. As a child, Sage never grasped Simone's humor. As a teen, Sage felt she was the brunt of her mother's jokes. However, as an adult, Sage finally appreciated the dry sarcasm Simone lightly sprinkled into all of her exchanges.
"…the doctor gave very specific instructions not to overdo. Yet, here you are holding court not two full days after such a violent assault. And, those pills you're taking should not be mixed with alcohol of any kind. Why don't you let me get you a cranberry juice instead?"
As the man prattled on and on, Child-Hassam seemed to become more and more restless. He focused his gaze on the glass in his own hand. It did little to stop his shifting from foot to foot. A light flush to his cheeks hinted at his growing discomfort with the conversation.
"Give it a rest, will you?" He finally hissed in a stage whisper to his husband.
"I’m just saying," Phil defended.
"Yes, you're always just saying," Child-Hassam complained. "Why not try saying nothing for a change? You might enjoy the experience. God knows, I'd enjoy the quiet."
"Ouch! Looks like Child-Hassam Spencer Sebastian is sleeping on the couch tonight," Tristan chuckled as she read the man's full name from the bio provided on the photo array Mr. Matthews left behind. "Rule #1 of relationships is never fight in public. Rule #2 is to never embarrass your lover in front of your family or friends."
Chester merely grunted.
Tristan let him stare at the monitors while she scribbled a note on the back of Child-Hassam's picture. "He's not the guy. His voice is too deep. And, Phil isn't the guy either," she flipped through the pile of pictures until she found his and started to write on the back. "He has a very California accent. I'm guessing San Francisco."
"Now there's a shock," Chester deadpanned.
"Mom, why not sit down at the table while we're waiting? Dad and Cade will be over in a few minutes. At least, I think they will," Gareth seemed flustered.
"You okay?" Sage asked Gareth as Simone followed Brook's lead to the banquet table.
The portly man mopped his brow with a starched handkerchief before answering, "No, I'm not okay. I'm worried; really worried. I'm not entirely sure the cops figured everything out right. Between you and me, things don't add up."
"Like what?" Sage asked trying to keep relief out of her voice. If Gareth was questioning the cover story then it was highly unlikely he'd be the perpetrator.
"If Tristan was solely responsible then she never would have called in a warning to me. She'd certainly never race into the ballroom to just tackle Mom. What would be the point of that? And, why would she invent such a cock and bull story? She's a writer for Pete's sake. She'd have a better story!"
"Thank you for the vote of confidence, Gareth Revere Sebastian! I'm not taking you off the suspect list simply because of that statement alone but it certainly doesn't hurt your case any in my book." Tristan smiled broadly, "You know, Chester, the difference between the rich and the poor has got to be middle names. Poor people usually give their kids one fucked up name but the rich keep piling on painfully archaic non de plumes, so to speak…"
"…I sent my wife and kids away for a while. In case this isn't over, I want them to be safe."
"You're a good man, Gareth," Sage stated with confidence in her older brother as he turned to follow their mother to the table.
Mr. Matthews stepped up next to Sage. He pulled in close to speak to her. All audio to the loft clicked into silence. They huddled for a few moments before breaking apart with a peck on the cheek. Sparing a brief glance to the camera, Mr. Matthews hurried out of the room. Sage turned slightly to cover her fidgety movements with her sling and the sound returned.
"Why couldn't we hear anything?" Tristan asked with rising alarm. "What just happened?"
Chester shook his head. His fingers worked several switches before he guessed at the problem, "He shut off her mic."
Tristan rolled her eyes, "I figured that part out myself. My question is why would he do that?"
As if to answer, the red phone rang.
"What's going on?" Tristan grabbed the receiver and nearly shouted her question.
"Tristan, it's almost over," Mr. Matthews spoke with authority. "I'm heading down to the sanitarium with Agent Rice. It seems we underestimated Endicott. They found a cell phone with your number on speed dial when they searched his room."
"That’s unbelievable," Tristan managed to say around her surprise. "How did he get a cell phone into the hospital? How did he find me? How…?"
Mr. Matthews snorted a laugh, "I'll be sure to ask him those questions in that order. Sage and J. Granville know where I'm off to. The Sebastians are going to finish their celebration and then Sage will be up to see you. We'll hold off on any announcement until we're done questioning Endicott. I want this wrapped up in a tight little package before saying anything official. Put Chester on the phone, please. I'll have him shut down surveillance for tonight and clear out of the loft. His crew can come back for the equipment tomorrow." Mr. Matthews took a deep breath, "Try to relax, Tristan. We have a few more details to piece together but you and Max are safe."
"And, Sage too," Tristan added before handing the phone to Chester.
Tristan ignored the grunts and snorts that passed for Chester's end of the conversation. She watched the screens flickering images of Sage with her family around the table. Well, most of her family. Cade had lingered at the bar long after J. Granville had walked away. The drunken brother was slowly staggering to the table with a drink in each hand. He stumbled slightly but managed to get his ass into a chair without falling over.
Chester hung up the phone. He unplugged it and got up to put it back into the box it arrived in.
"Dad, do you want me to get you a drink?" Brook asked her father as she stood to head to the bar.
Before he could answer, Cade spoke up. "I would appreciate another shot."
"You've had your fill," Child-Hassam cautioned. "You need to eat something and have some coffee before you head home to Karen."
"Hang on, Chester," Tristan stayed his hand on the monitor. "Leave this one and the speaker. I want to hear about Sage's last girlfriend; Karen the hasbien."
Chester shrugged and stepped back. He started to shut down the rest of the equipment.
"Boys…," Simone started to caution the twins.
"Oh, here we go again with St. Hassam, our own patron of abstinence," Cade quipped. "I liked you much better when you were the patron saint of celibacy."
Child-Hassam flinched slightly before replying, "Funny, I don't ever remember you liking me."
"Perhaps, you're right…," Cade's tone started to rise.
Simone began again, "Boys…,"
"Listen to your mother," J. Granville interrupted.
"…there never was much to like about you…,"
"I must insist you stop…," Simone struggled to get their attention.
"…what with you being a fudge packer…,"
Phil stood up, knocking his chair over, "Now, you listen here you little twerp! You don't get to talk to my husband like that…,"
"Phil, sit down and shut up for once!" Child-Hassam bellowed.
"…this is absolutely ridiculous!" Simone was breathless.
"STOP!" Gareth's shout was ignored.
"Let's all calm down," Brook tried to sooth the tension with gentle hand gestures as well as her words.
Sage gave a snort, "That's not going to happen."
"SAGE!" Simone admonished.
"Mom, Sage isn't the problem here," Brook defended.
"Ha, that's a big fat lie," Cade shrieked with macabre amusement.
There was something familiar about Cade's voice. Tristan shuffled through the photographs once more. She pulled Cade's free as she heard Chester open the door to dismiss the FBI guy.
"Cade Saratoga Sebastian," Tristan murmured the name. "Saratoga…,"
"You need to dial it back, man," Greg warned. "Don't even think about talking to Brook the way you talk to…,"
"…Greg, don't…," Brook tried to stop him.
Phil's simmering anger burst forth at Child-Hassam, "See, that's how you should stick up for me with your hideous family! A real man…,"
"…Cade, don't say it!" Gareth stated pointedly as he saw his younger brother's lips curl into an evil smile.
"That's the problem, Phyllis. St. Hassam ain't no man. If you want a big dick ramming you up the ass then you've got to go to the family stud; Sage! At least, that's what my wife tells me."
"You son of a…," Sage hissed.
Simone sighed, "…that's right, it all comes back to me…,"
Cade let out a high pitched cackle of a laugh, "Excellent banter!"
"Oh God, it's not Endicott," Tristan gasped as she sat back from the screen when she recognized the voice and the phrase of Mr. Arnold.
"It certainly isn't," Chester agreed.
Tristan turned her head in time to see the hulking man remove a gun from the box on the table.
"But, Mr. Matthews said he trusted you. You've worked together for years," she babbled in disbelief. She was unable to move out of her chair with a gun pointed at her.
Chester smirked as he strolled within arm's length of her. "I've known Matthews as long as I've known Cade. Matthews is a poor stiff and Cade is a rich shit. Do you know what the difference is between a poor stiff and a rich shit, Tristan?"
Tristan couldn't find the words so she shook her head no.
"The rich pay better!"
To emphasize the last syllable, Chester brought the butt of the gun down hard on Tristan's temple. The force knocked her body out of the chair and all conscious thought out of her head.