Ingrams & Assoc Prequel: Broken

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The prequel to the Ingrams & Assoc series.
10.9k words
4.57
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Part 27 of the 27 part series

Updated 06/07/2023
Created 09/26/2013
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jezzaz
jezzaz
2,376 Followers

Note from the author. This is less about the sex than it is about introducing characters for an oncoming series. Please look for Ingrams & Assoc 1: Double Bluff for the next stage in this story arc.

Many thanks to Pennlady for the editing pass. It would suck without it.

"Good afternoon, Algy. I may call you Algy, yes?" said the little man cheerfully. "I hope so. I know you can't answer me, but I also know you are in there. I can see it in your eyes. We can chat, yes?"

The little man, in a white crumpled linen suit complete with Panama hat, settled into the large overstuffed chair present in every hospital and old people's home. He put down his steaming coffee on the side table, took off his hat and mopped his brow with his handkerchief, revealing that he still had a head of hair, even though it was bright white. His accent was faintly British, though coated with American – what they called a Mid-Atlantic accent today.

The little man peered over at the immobile man in the bed next to him, hooked up to many machines and a respirator. The man in the bed looked back at him, questions in his eyes.

"Algy, I won't bother you unless you give me a sign, all right? I have a story to tell – one I tell once a year to someone who is actually old enough to remember the events, and always to someone who is unlikely to pass this particularly story on. I just... need to retell this. Once a year."

The little man watched the bed's occupant for some sign. The man in the bed looked back and then looked down at his hands, by his sides on the bed. One finger was raised. The little man looked at it, back at Algy and said, "Ok then. I'll take that as a yes. I should introduce myself. My name is Marcus, and I'm sad to say, I'm broken inside...."

April Burrows pulled in the parking lot of the Mecca Miles Retirement Community and sat in the driver's seat, listening to the car ping and creak as it cooled down. She checked her watch again and saw she was twenty minutes early. While she loved Uncle Marcus, hanging out in these places to wait for him was not her idea of a great time. They smelled too much of antiseptic, hinting at personal emergencies she honestly didn't want to think about.

April was twenty-five years old. She was lithe, as girls who play a lot of sport often are. She was 5'9", tall, and had a large bush of red hair, deep red, which she habitually kept in a scrunchy so it was out of her face. It wasn't that she disliked her hair – she quite liked it in fact. She just hated the amount of time it took to get it under control. Easier to just tie it up, and leave it at that. She didn't have anyone to impress right now anyway.

When she did let it down, she looked like a cross between the princess from Pixar'sBraveand Prince William's wife, Kate Middleton. She had slim hips, was not over endowed up top (something she was eternally thankful for – her best friend at college, Jessica, had large boobs and as she said, "I could never tell if a guy was talking to me or my chest.") and had a pixie like nose. She had often wondered if she should have work done on it, but decided against it. It was part of her. The chin now... the chin coulddefinitelyuse work. She had sparkling green eyes that were never looking at one thing too long – her attention darted around, taking in everything and filing it away. April was just glad she didn't have the pale countenance that usually came with red hair – she had gotten her slightly olive skin from her mother, god rest her soul.

Having just come from a particularly hard volleyball game, she was still sweating slightly, even though she'd showered afterwards and the car's AC was running. It was hot out here in Arizona, she though, marveling again that she was still here, in Phoenix, even after graduating ASU in Tempe. She had imagined herself away from this oppressive heat the moment she graduated, but here she was, still here.

She checked her watch again – two minutes had passed. The car was starting to heat up from the afternoon sun and she considered her options. She had agreed to pick up Uncle Marcus from this dreary place and drop him home, but knowing him, he'd insist on dinner with her and grill her on the day's activities. She smiled. "Grill her" was a bit strong, but he was always interested in her life and made no bones about it. It was another reason she loved him so much.

She could either start the engine again and get the cold air flowing or just go inside and talk to the receptionist. They'd talked a few times the other times she'd picked up Uncle Marcus. She frowned when she thought about the fact that she still didn't know what he was doing there – who he was seeing, what he was talking about or anything. Not that it was her business, but April was smart enough to know she was nosey. Very nosey in fact. When she'd asked him he'd just smiled that sad smile of his and said "Oh, magic tricks for the natives, dear. They are the only ones who would remember it."

She thought it was great that he wanted to visit the old folks – it spoke to the kind of person he was – but it was a trifle...she couldn't figure out the right word. Strange? Weird? Peculiar? No, it waseccentric. That was the word. After all, that was her uncle to a T. Look up "eccentric" in the dictionary, and there was a picture of him. As a matter of fact, she would have to do that – go buy a dictionary, stick his picture in next to the word and definition and give it to him as a present. She knew he'd find it funny.

Bored, she considered her Uncle Marcus, her favorite and only uncle. He was almost seventy-five now, but still spry. His background in showbiz and archeology had kept him young-looking and she knew his interest that which had been his life's work was still strong. After her parents had died, Uncle Marcus had been the one to arrange her upbringing, paying for it out of the proceeds he'd gotten from the various discoveries he and her parents had made in the years following the war, plus the radio and TV appearances he'd made over the years, playing the part of Older Statesmen Archeologist.

Her Uncle Marcus – his name was always preceded by "Her Uncle", something she noticed she'd been doing since she was six, and had just never stopped – was all the family she had left now. He wasn't even 'real' family – her only family had been her parents, and they'd died when she was an infant. But he'd been the one to look out for her; he'd even tried to adopt her, but back in the late sixties, single men trying to adopt little girls was frowned upon. She'd ended up a ward of court, in the system, but he'd never lost sight of her. Always there on weekends and for birthdays and other events, in whichever home she happened to be at the time.

He'd even been the one to explain to her what periods were, and embarrassed as he'd been, taken her out to buy her first set of period pads. When she had her first sexual experience and was dumped unceremoniously afterwards by the dickwad who had fooled her with his smooth talk, Uncle Marcus was the one she turned to for solace and understanding. She learned some lessons that day, both through her own desire to believe bullshit and also through the information that Her Uncle Marcus had imparted. One thing in particular had stuck with her: "If you want to be sure, wait. The more you wait and the more you know someone, the more youwillknow if it's right or not." Words to live by, she thought.

When she'd won a college scholarship–she was an uncommonly smart and observant girl–but hadn't been able to afford all that came with it, the living expenses and so on, he'd been there to help out. She was in his debt forever, but quite content to be because he was just so nice to her and it meant he'd always be in her life.

He was all the family she had left now and she did not intend to let him go, no matter how eccentric he was. Plus he was just fun. Although, she had to consider, he was sad. It was part of him, the sadness. She'd see him watch old films and just be crying by the end of it. He couldn't watch any of the news reels he and her parents had been in from way back, or the flickering black and white TV shows he'd presented way back before color and clickers. One year for Christmas she'd bought him a collection she'd had specially made for him, of the newsreels and shows he'd been in when he was young, and he'd dissolved into tears when she gave it to him. She knew he'd never watched any of them; the plastic wrap they'd come in had never been opened.

He'd never dated or married. She'd suspected for a while that he was a closet case – during her sophomore year in college, she'd used him to create a psychological profile out of idle curiosity, to see if there were hints that he was gay, but all that had come out was that it was likely he'd been hurt or had some tumultuous event in his past and he'd never got over it.

He was popular with the old fogeys and with the waitresses at the restaurants he took her to and she knew for a fact that a couple of the MILF divorcées in the area had tried to invite him to 'mixers' – thinly disguised hunting grounds for older rich cougars with nothing else to do. But he always begged off politely and instead ate by himself at Subway or some such.

He did look good for his age. A goatee beard – something he'd had since he was a young man, not one of these affectations in the last few years – sun burnt skin, white teeth. He looked like the Most Interesting Man in the Universe's Father. He was dapper, smartly dressed and unfailingly polite to everyone.

He'd whole-heartedly supported her career choices. She'd gotten a double degree in Psychology and Criminal investigation. It was her fervent desire to join the FBI and be either a profiler or an investigator. She'd known what she wanted to do ever since seeing an old episode ofDragnetas a little girl. She wanted to chase down the bad guys and figure out who had done what. With a steady stream of those kinds of shows and the new CSI-style shows, she knew exactly where she wanted to be, and she'd gone for it.

Uncle Marcus had been right behind her, encouraging her and giving her small sums to help out. She knew he could afford it, but she also knew he didn't have to – she was no blood relative. He was doing it because he'd loved her parents.

All this went through her head until the car got too stifling and she jumped out and went inside, antiseptic smell or not.

As she walked in, she saw Patty sitting behind the desk. A somewhat large, middle-aged woman who always had a smile and always nervously laughed at the things she said, she had no idea how irritating she was. But as April had learned in her Psychology degree, these things were done subconsciously, in order to divert attention because the individual concerned had their own self-worth issues. Thinking briefly'I've really got to stop analyzing people'as she walked in, April waved to Patty and approached her desk.

"How ya doin', Patty?" she asked.

"Oh SSDD, girl, you know that," replied Patty with a wan smile.

"Is the old man here?"

"Yeah, I think so. He's in with Algernon tonight. I have no idea what he's telling him. Algy is basically a vegetable. But he's good with the old folk. Ha! Listen to me! That man is seventy-five if he is a day and I'm going on about the 'old folk'! I hope to God I am as cognizant as he is at that age!"

April had to smile at the use of the word "cognizant." It wasn't generally in Patty's vocabulary, and she was sure that she'd heard it on TV and was desperate to use it and sound smart. She did get the context right and it was nice to hear her expanding her horizons. Then suddenly, April realized how condescending she sounded in her own head and shook it, annoyed at herself.

"You know, now I come to think about it, Idowonder what he's telling Algy. I wonder... hold on."

Patty started rummaging around in her draws and brought out an older registration book. "Let me see..." she said, leafing through the book. "Yeah. I thought so. I may be an getting older but there's nothing wrong with my memory. He did this last year."

"Did what?" asked April, idly curious now.

"He spent all day with one of our almost-coma patients. We have to note down the people visitors see – it's a state requirement. Yeah, he spent the day with Mary. Mary Whitehorse. She died about three months later. I remember because Marcus came to the funeral, and he almost never does that. He sent a huge bouquet of flowers. Normally he visits with the cognizant folks, talking about old times, his history, the old TV show he was on and doing magic tricks. But once a year, he spends the day with one of the veggies" Patty put her hand over her mouth, "Sorry, non-cognizant folk, and just talks. For a whole afternoon. You know, now I look at this, this is a little weird."

April was taken aback. This was... interesting! A mystery! She'd have to ask Uncle Marcus about it later. Or better yet, work it out for herself. Yeah, that was more like it. A challenge!

"What do you think he's doing in there?" she asked Patty.

"So Algy. I wonder if you remember back in the sixties? The start of flower power and all that stuff? Probably. You look like a man who knew how to have a good time," said Marcus Carlisle. He sat back, eyes unfocussed, seeing the past and smiling about it.

"I know I did. What a time eh? Do you remember those adventure serials at the movies? Saturday mornings? I lived for those. Flash Gordon, Superman, Tarzan. Oh those were the days. Real stories, real characters. My life was like that once. You may remember the TV showMarcus Explores?That was my show. Four years I was on that. The life and soul of the party. Do you know how I got that show? It was because of my past. I lived, Algy. Oh, I lived. Such excitement. That Indiana Jones character? Oh, he's nothing on what my pal Johnny Burrows, my girl Alice Slocumbe and I got up to. Let me tell you..."

There was silence for a moment, while past histories replayed behind distant eyes.

"I'm getting ahead of myself a bit though. I should give you some background. When I first met Johnny Burrows, it was... oh, 1958 I think? Something like that. I was working as a curator and cataloger at the American Museum of Natural History, in New York. I was young, stupid, hungry – all the things you are at that age. I'd weaseled my way out of England, after the war, and came to the U.S. to seek my fortune.

"I had a degree in ancient history and the only future I had in England was to slowly fossilize over time like the relics I was so interested in. When Johnny came in to the museum with his samples, well, I was impressed. He was older, he was worldly and he was doing all the things I had dreamed of myself! He'd found the elephants' graveyard in Kenya, he'd chased down gold from the conquistadors, and now he had most of the skeleton of a Tyrannosaurus Rex, in the best condition we'd ever seen.

"He wouldn't tell us where he'd got it, but we knew. We knew. We'd heard about the running gunfight on the train in Spain. He was glamorous, he was clever, he was bold and he liked me. There he was, in the flesh, all perfect hair, clean shaven, bronzed skin, square jaw, twinkling eyes. Your typical action hero. I was just surprised there wasn't a little flash from his teeth when he smiled."

Marcus stopped to take a sip of the coffee.

"When he made the offer to me to me to join his team, well, I jumped at it. Of course, the condition was that I bring Alice with me. I thought he just wanted to be sure I'd go with him – offering my girl a place on the team too, well, that would just guarantee it. He was smart you know, like I said. Oh I know that history says she washisgirl, but before she was, she was mine.

"Alice... oh, Alice. I should tell you about her. Blond, beautiful, smart as a whip. She knew more about archeology than I ever would. That's where I met her, you know. At a conference in Manhattan. I was giving a talk then – all slides then. This Power Point stuff would have been wonderful back then. Anyway, we met at a conference and I knew she was the one. I knew it. Trouble was, of course, lots of other men also knew she was the one for them too, but I beat them out. I have no idea how, but I did.

"Alice was all ambition and brilliance and beauty and the sex! Oh the sex! That woman could suck the chrome off a bumper. They don't have bumpers any more, do they? They have crumple zones now. I think that says it all. Anyway... my God, she could give a blowjob. And she swallowed too. She used to show me my jiz in her mouth after I blew in it, then swallow it and smile at me."

There was an uncomfortable silence as Marcus shifted and cross his legs. At his point in life, he wasn't used to erections anymore and he had one now, with the memories he was evoking. Then he realized how inappropriate he was being and glanced over at the man in the bed, whose eyes were pleading silently.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone into such detail. It's not seemly. Although we are both men of the world, eh, Algy? For instance, I know you were on the beaches of Normandy on D-Day. That, my friend, took some guts. I shouldn't imagine a description of a blow job is going to shock you too much, eh?"

Marcus leaned across and winked at Algernon, who blinked back at him.

"Alice, she was special. God knows what she saw in me, but she saw something. We dusted bones in the day and she dusted my boner at night. We were happy. It couldn't last, of course; nothing like that ever does, but still, it was pretty lovely while it lasted. I didn't know it at the time, mind you. I was on cloud nine. And then it just got better when Johnny Burrows showed up. We were off in to the world, doing exciting things and barely getting away with it..."

Six months later, April drove her car through the torrential rain that served as Arizona's fall and winter weather. She loved the rain as much as she wearied of the sun; the falling water soothed her. And after the discovery she'd just made, she was in desperate need of something soothing.

It had come up as she'd been doing a detail course on CSI techniques in preparation for applying to the FBI for an agent's position. She'd been thorough with her preparations – she'd learned where the head of local recruitment went to the gym and had struck up a friendship with him, being careful to keep it professional. They were running partners now, and she'd made him aware of her infatuation with the Bureau and her intention to apply. Having a friend in high places couldn't hurt.

She'd also been taking post-graduate courses in crime law, CSI techniques and applied criminal psychology, building on her graduate degree. She'd already acted as an unofficial—and unpaid—consultant to the local police in Phoenix when they were hunting a rapist on the ASU campus. She'd not been 100% right in her profile, but when it was put up against the one supplied by the FBI profiler, they'd found they'd agreed about almost 70% of the time, and the local police department was impressed. She knew she had a future in front of her and so did they.

And then this had sprung up. She had done the test three times because the results she got simply didn't compute. It was only supposed to be a lab example – nothing serious. When she got the same results a third time, she sat back on the lab stool and just stared at the screen. It didn't make sense. Or it made perfect sense. Either way, she had no idea what to do with the information she'd just garnered. Obviously she'd have to confront the specific individual, but she had to decide when and how, and what would change if she did. Part of it made her ecstatic, too. It was just so unexpected.

She found herself analyzing her own feelings and found that, in a scary way that was almost more interesting than the actual news itself!

jezzaz
jezzaz
2,376 Followers