Lifesaver in a Bikini

Pass the Parcel-2

CORA DE LEON HAD WORKED AT THE CRIME LAB for the best of thirty years. She was The Receptionist, with a capital R, and was also the administrator, timekeeper, file clerk, and security guard all rolled into one at the underfunded department. She ferociously guarded the secrets of the lab and its people, so much so she was bestowed the nickname ‘The Lion’ by outsiders, an homage to the English translation of her Spanish last name.

‘Hey, Guapa,’ Cora called out excitedly as she finished gathering a huge pile of envelopes into a box.

Spotting the huge container, Queen approached the reception desk and casually enquired, ‘What’s that?’

‘Your fan mail ... That’s because you’re muy guapa!’

Queen blushed at the compliment that meant ‘very pretty’ in Spanish.

Three days after she became an instant Internet sensation, much to her chagrin, she received the first of many parcels. Letters, postcards, and packages poured into the crime lab. Many were addressed to her by name with just ‘NY Crime Lab’ as the address. Others were only addressed to ‘The Sexy Girl in White Bikini’ and still found their way to her, no thanks to the detective work of U.S. Postal Service’s overzealous personnel.

The uploaders were to blame for the viral postings, but the media had a lot to answer for, too. The members of the Fourth Estate didn’t let up until they knew who she was by name and what she did for a living. Thankfully, she kept her maiden name of Camden professionally.

In hindsight, it was a good thing, as the kerfuffle, therefore, didn’t affect her husband Giorgio Gomez, who by the nature of his profession had to keep a degree of anonymity.

Queen’s left eyebrow went up.

‘Tia Cora, you’re joking. This can’t all be for me!’ She addressed the older woman by the affectional title ‘Tia’, meaning ‘Aunt’.

‘No, I’m not.’ She took one postcard out to show Queen, ‘Look! Look here! This one says ‘to the Sexy Girl in white Bikini’, addressed to NY Crime Lab. No one else sexy round here,’ she said.

Queen laughed out loud in her usual crackly way.

‘Okay, I’ll take it, but they’ll all end up in the bin anyway. There’s no way I’d be answering any of them.’

Cora jokingly said that if there was a marriage proposal in the pack, to please pass it on to her.

‘I’m in need of a toy boy!’

Queen hugged the matronly woman, who had been like a mother to her from the start. It was Cora who’d made her transition to the crime lab effortless.

From the first day, Cora had such an affection for the young woman who was, in her opinion, ‘a breath of fresh air in a department full of cynics, sceptics, nerds and analytics’.

Analysts, they all said to correct her, to no avail.

That afternoon, Queen experienced the downside of her ‘celebrity’. On the way home, she passed by her regular pharmacy. The staff insisted on having a ‘selfie’ taken with her, much to her horror. She couldn’t refuse, however, as she had known the staff for a long time. The same thing happened at her butcher, her fruiterer and her florist. The only respite was the check-out chick at the supermarket.

Thank God, she sighed, she doesn’t know me.

She knew before she saw him that G was home. Only he would play the soaring vocals of Luciano Pavarotti belting out the aria Nessun Dorma at six in the evening. He came out of the bedroom as she was coming in through the front door.

‘Hi gorgeous, how’s your day been?’

He greeted her with a long kiss, hungering and desirous. A kiss he hadn’t given her for some months.

‘That’s for making me the envy of the universe,’ he said cheekily.

She laughed and said, ‘Make yourself useful then, and get the rest of the groceries from the car.’

She dropped the bags of fresh vegetables and fruit on the counter to attend to the canines. Even Lily and Moppet seemed to be on a high, nudging her legs until she dropped down to her knees to pay them her undivided attention. She gave them each a treat and off they went to leave her alone.

She arranged the fruit in an attractive, fiery-red ceramic bowl, starting with the heavier green apples at the bottom, to the lighter kiwifruit on top. To give the kitchen a burst of colour, she placed it in the centre of the island bench. That done, she set aside rocket leaves and other vegetables for dinner and the rest she stored away in the fridge.

Just then, G came in balancing a parcel in one arm and carrying five bags of groceries in the other.

‘You didn’t have to bring them all in at once,’ she laughed.

He gave her a winning smile.

‘One trip to the car is better than two. I don’t want to be away from you longer than I have to.’

She crossed her arms and gave him the eye.

‘What gives?’

‘What do you mean “What gives”?’ he asked, feigning hurt.

‘Last Sunday you ignored me for Lego.’

He pouted, then smiled, craters appearing on his cheeks.

‘That was just a one-off. It won’t happen again, especially since I found out how many guys want to marry you. I nearly killed half a dozen of them today.’

She shook her head, rolled her eyes and said he had nothing to worry about.

Changing the topic, she asked him if he would like coffee, to which his reply was, ‘Yes, please.’

He went to see what was in the box and was alarmed to find the fan mail addressed to his wife. He perused them and divided them into two piles.

‘Some of these messages have threatening undertones,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I don’t like it one bit!’

He planned to catalogue those he deemed ‘unsafe’ and track the senders, in case one of them turn out to be a stalker or a wanna-be kidnapper.

‘Here’s your coffee.’

Queen came bearing a mug and saucer of his favourite caffeinated beverage.

She sat next to him and read through the pile collecting on G’s right, the safe ones. Occasionally she’d giggle and at times she’d go all hysterical, belly laughing with amusement.

‘Listen to this gorgeous. “I’m Jeremy. I’m six. I’m the most clever kid in my school at Math. You’re the woman of my dreams. My Mom said I can get married to you when I’m eighteen. If you stop growing older, I can catch up with you. Love, Jeremy’’.’

When she was done perusing the ones on G’s right, she moved to read the ones on the left. G instantly put a hand over hers in a manner of two people playing a game of Snap.

‘No, chica bella. Don’t. They’re not worth your while.’

She looked at him and wondered what worried him.

He tried to conceal his worry with a tight smile.

‘Shall I make dinner?’ he asked.

‘No, my turn tonight. Would you like anything in particular?’

‘Nah, anything you make is fine.’

She made a face at him before getting up to head for the kitchen.

For this evening’s dinner, she would keep it simple. Risotto, served with fresh rocket leaves on the side. She had earlier decided on blueberry cheesecake of the frozen variety for dessert.

Thawed to perfection.

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