Leave Already!
By
A. Rhea King

Kim looked up when her office door shut with a light slam. Russ stomped up to her desk, glaring at her. Well, not at her; she had known him long enough to tell when the glare was meant for her, or meant for someone else. Someone else had tripped his 'grump meter,' and she was sure she was about to find out who. Which made her sigh. He was about to sour her good day, wasn't he?

"What, Russ?"

"He won't leave, Kim. I need him to leave! Make him leave!"

Kim stared. Was she supposed to know who he was talking about? And why this person needed to leave, for that matter? "Make whom leave from where?"

"Milt! Make him leave!"

She closed her eyes for a few seconds. When was Russ just going to accept the fact Milt was in Battle Creek to stay?

"Russ, I'm not making, asking, or suggesting Milt leave. I know you're still working that robbery, so get back to work. The robber isn't catching himself."

"No. I need you to make him leave, Kim! I need my space. My bathroom. He organized the damn kitchen and now I can't find anything! And I can't bring a date back when he's camped out on my damn couch!"

Realizing she had misread this rant entirely, Kim hesitated to answer. Milt was still at Russ' apartment? He was kidnapped and framed for murders over a month ago, true, and both she and those who worked closely with him could tell he was suffering from victim's guilt, or what today was called PTSD. It was the little things that tipped them off. He lost his cool a little easier these days, he wasn't as ready with a smile like he used to be, and they all whispered about how being close to someplace he'd been 'dumped' made him edgy.

But he was a grown man, she wasn't his supervisor, and all she could do was suggest he seek counseling – which she had a twice and he was adamant that he was okay. But if he was still living with Russ, he was worse off than she realized. Yet, she also couldn't make Milt leave Russ' apartment. Russ needed to resolve this on his own, even if she worried that might actually make Milt's PTSD worse – dealing with Russ made her feel like she had PTSD some days!

"I'm not asking Milt to leave. That's something you need to talk to him about."

Through gritted teeth Russ growled, "I have. He keeps coming back."

"Has he said why he keeps coming back?"

"He says he sleeps better on my couch."

She seriously doubted that was true. "Just give him some more time, Russ. He's still working it out."

"Working what out? What exactly does he need to work out? And why does he have to work it out at my apartment?"

"I don't know. He just does."

"Kim, I can't deal with him being there anymore. He shows up in the middle of the night, asking to sleep on my couch for just another night. And then that night turns into two, and three, and four! And when he's there, he does all this stuff at my place that just pisses me off and tells me he's helping."

"What stuff is he doing?"

"He cleans the place. And he puts stuff away that doesn't need put away. And he moved everything around in my kitchen and said he was reorganizing it so I could find things easier. I can't find shit! Hebribes me with beer and delivery. And he takes longer in the bathroom than a woman! Do you know how many mornings I haven't gotten a shower because of him?"

Kim pressed her lips together just to keep from smiling, and laughing. The two of them sounded like the quintessential Odd Couple. But she had to stay serious, because the underlying problem was far too serious.

"Russ, he just needs time."

"You already said that. What exactly are you expecting him to sort out? Every time I kick him out I tell him this is the last time, but he keeps coming back! He's like a damned cockroach!"

Russ was a brilliant and intuitive of a detective, but that definitely didn't apply to relationships that were personal on any level. He didn't see how vulnerable Milt felt right now, and for whatever reason, Russ was the only person he felt safe with. She was going to have to spell this out.

"Russell, what he went through was traumatic and—"

"What? The kidnapping and stuff? He's fine with that. Last week didn't I overhear you and Holly say that he canceled his lease and moved out of the Towers. That's why he keeps coming back. He's homeless and too lazy to find his own damn place. Talk to him. Make him leave. I need my space back."

Russ really was oblivious to this, wasn't he? "He moved out of his apartment because he didn't believe it was safe – Milt's way of saying he didn't feel safe there anymore. He stays here until all hours and keeps coming back to your place because he is not okay with the kidnapping and stuff; he has no secure place anymore."

Russ stared at her. It was hard to tell what he was thinking. So she continued, "Put yourself in his shoes. If that had happened to you, would you really be okay, Russ? Really?"

She waited for an answer, but he just stared at her.

"Be patient with him," she added. "He's trying his best to get through this and when he does he will leave. He needs to feel safe and somehow, Lord only knows how, you've created that for him."

For several minutes Russ stared at her, again with a blank stare that didn't give a hint as to what was going through his mind. He left without a word.

She wanted to believe she'd gotten through to him, but she had her doubts.

The building that Russ' apartment was in looked old and sad. On the front of the building, now faded and chipped, passers-by were told this was Baker's Mercantile and Goods. The entire neighborhood was sad and tired, not making this building stick out much. In the first week Milt had stayed with Russ, he finally realized that the inside of the building did not reflect the exterior. The inside had small, antique touches that gave it character and life. The halls and the five apartments seemed to have someone taking great care in maintaining them. Milt didn't know about apartment six, the last one in the building located over Russ' apartment. Milt wanted to rent that apartment, so he set out trying to find who the owner was.

The oldest tenant in the building was Dennis Doorman. He had lived here since he was seven and he was now eight-two. It didn't take long for Milt to realize he wouldn't be much help. He didn't have the best of memory anymore, he thought a couple already lived in six was vacant, and that he owned the building. He tried to ask Russ about the place, but that practically started a fight. Granted, he probably shouldn't have asked when Russ was trying not to burn their pork chops after Milt had unexpectedly shown up again. He doubted Russ knew much more than the other tenants, and decided not to ask again.

Instead he asked the detectives and Kim if they knew anything about the owner. The detectives said they didn't know who owned or managed the building either. Milt believed them. But when Kim said the same thing, Milt knew she was lying. It was in the way she smiled when he asked if she really didn't know anything – there was a secret she was keeping about the owner, something that amused her, but it wasn't a secret she was telling Milt.

A property search led him to a shell company called Nue Ag Industries. Normally that would have sent Milton into search and destroy mode, but something about this one was very different and moreover, he didn't find anything nefarious about the company. While he couldn't find the owner and very little public information, an accountant in Battle Creek filed taxes on the three properties owned by the company. He was staying in one of the assets, the apartment building, and when he checked out the other two it was even more confusing. The second property was forty acres five miles outside of town with a pond and a small building with no floor. The third had been bought as an empty lot and converted into a community garden. The apartment building was the only property that provided any revenue to the shell company, and after taxes and utilities, the owner wasn't making more than a couple thousand each month.

And that money trail led him directly to First National, right downtown, a bank that practically every police officer in Battle Creek used. There is no way even the most audacious criminal would use that bank. Unless it was a very stupid, audacious criminal, Milt reasoned. He tried to find out who had setup the checking account attached to Nue Ag Industries, which lead to another dead end. The business account was setup by a manager nearly fifteen years ago who died from a stroke three years ago.

The only thing he could find was that every single lead came right back to the apartment building and the mysterious apartment six. Not even the Post Master – a man who was proud to have held his job for 42 years and to share the gossip about practically every person in Battle Creek – knew who was receiving the mail for the company. All he knew was it was always picked up from the mailbox in the entrance hall, any packages that arrived were signed for by Russ, and he'd never seen anything peculiar in all the years Nue Ag Industries had been receiving their mail.

So he went to tenants themselves – wondering why he didn't do that in the first place – to find out if any of them knew more. They didn't. In fact, when he asked if Russ was the manager (making him suspicious of his doubt that Russ knew nothing about the owner), they admitted Russ just sort of assumed the manager position. Milt decided to take a break from trying to track down the owner. Besides, Russ had started passing on maintenance requests to him after he announced, out of the blue over supper one night, he had to renovate apartment six. For a week he had spent every spare minute he had in the mysterious apartment six, making enough noise for twenty people. Milt was torn between turning the volume up on the T.V. or just waiting it out…

Just as he decided, the noise stopped and a few minutes later Russ came home, covered in drywall dust and streaked with paint. He headed for the bathroom – a new nightly routine.

"How's the renovations coming?" Milt asked.

"Almost done."

"I'm off tomorrow. I could—"

The bathroom door slammed closed, stopping his offer to help. Milt was used to that, though. Russ didn't hide how much he hated Milt being there, which was contradicted by the fact he always let Milt stay when he asked.

But now that Russ was back, Milt felt his tension melt away. He would never admit it to anyone, but this couch was safe because his partner was there to watch his back.

Russ walked into Milt's office and sauntered over to the windows to look out on Battle Creek. Milt didn't take his attention off the report he was writing about the robbery he and the detectives had solved.

"Do we have a case?" Milt asked.

"No. You about done?"

"I'm going to be here a while."

"Right. So are you about done?"

"I have other work to do."

"Are you about done, Milt?"

Milt looked back at him. He was still staring out the window.

"Yes. I'm about done."

"Hurry up then. We have somewhere to get to."

"You said we didn't have a case."

Russ shot him a dark glare. "Hurry the hell up!"

Milt turned back to his computer and finished typing the report. He saved it and stood up, buttoning his jacket.

"I'm done. What's the rush?"

Russ walked out of the office. Milt followed him to his car and they got in.

"Where are we going?"

"I need your opinion on something." Russ started driving.

"On what?"

Russ answered with an old dog smile.

Milt wasn't getting anything more out of him and he probably wasn't going to like what Russ had planned for him...

#

They ended up at Russ' apartment building. It was still early evening and they passed tenants on their way in and up the stairs. They didn't stop on the second floor – Russ' apartment and the apartment of Vanessa and Paul, a single mother and her teenage son. Paul sat on the steps, texting on his phone.

"Hey pigs," Paul said.

Russ jokingly roughed him up, making him laugh. Milt smiled as he watched. Three children lived in the building and Russ talked to them like a friend. If it was anyone else, Milt might find that creepy. Russ, on the other hand, was just a big brother to most children he met, and there was nothing creepy about that.

"You keep calling me a pig and one day you'll come home to one in your bedroom," Russ threatened.

"Yeah. Yeah." Paul grinned. He moved to the side of the steps. "So it's today, huh?"

"It is."

Russ walked past him. Paul grinned up at Milt. It was a grin that worried Milt a little. He knew Russ was up to something, Paul seemed to know exactly what that something was.

On the third floor, Russ stopped outside apartment number six and dug a set of three keys out of his pocket.

"This isn't the nicest place in Battle Creek," Russ said as he unlocked the door. "No central air or a kitchen with everything – not that you ever seem to use the kitchen." He walked into the apartment.

Milt followed him in. Russ stopped in the middle of the bare living room. The renovations were complete and the apartment looked great. The hardwood was refinished, the walls were freshly painted, and new carpet had been laid in the one bedroom. Floor to ceiling windows along the eastern wall looked across the top of the next building, and in the distance Milt could see the woods. He wasn't surprised Russ had done such a great job. In the same way Milt was a perfectionist in his appearance, Russ was a perfectionist in his care of this building. Different while the same, weren't they?

"What do you think?" Russ asked him.

"You did a good job renovating."

"No, Milt, what do you think about living here? I know it's not the Towers, but—"

"I'll take it," Milt quickly answered. He didn't even care what the rent was, just that it wasn't his old apartment and… "Who do I call?"

"It's not as big as your other place, so you'll have to store some stuff. Each place has a closet storage in the basement, the key is on the ring." Russ handed Milt the set of keys. "Rent is six hundred a month, month to month. You're on your own for cable, Internet, and if you want a phone. Gas, water, and trash are included in the rent. During the winter the electric and gas can get high, so we do an even split between apartments, that way no one's trying to pay a huge amount. The most we've all had to pay was twenty bucks, but that might go up with another apartment filled. I told the other tenants that, but, as usual, they were just beside themselves that FBI Agent Chamberlain was going to be here. I think I got a little sick after that."

Milt didn't even hear Russ' insult. Realization was like a neon light slowly brightening in his head, and when it was fully lit up, the following surprise had the strength of a sucker punch.

"You own Nue Ag Industries and you own this building."

"Can't believe it took you this long to put all that together. Are you sure you didn't get your FBI badge out of a cereal box?"

He didn't even feel the slightest sting from Russ' insult. His respect for his partner was growing, and he did have a lot of questions, but there was one in particular that had been bugging him the most. "Why is this apartment empty?"

"I didn't want anyone living over me."

"Then why didn't you take it?"

"I didn't want to climb three sets of stairs."

If it were anyone else giving those reasons, Milt wouldn't have believed them. But this was Russ. He's drive was far too simple for that to be a lie.

Russell went back to talking about the apartment. "No dogs, but one cat is okay."

Milt smiled. "I don't have either."

"Should get one." Russ walked back to the door and closed it. He picked up a bar next to the door and secured the door jammer in place. Russ locked both dead bolts and slid the bolt latch into place. "Changed the door out. Solid wood, oak. I didn't like the look of the metal ones. But once you lock all these, you'd know if someone was trying to get through this door." Russ turned around. "I put in a metal window frame and double pane storm glass on the window on the fire escape. All the windows have ventilation locks and keyed deadbolts – the key is on the ring there. Only the weapons locker is more secure than this place."

During the fiasco of his kidnappings and Russ clearing his name, Milt had caught a glimpse of the nugget of friendship Russ felt for him. But today, it was bright. He wouldn't dare call Russ a close friend, and he likely still didn't trust Milt, but he cared enough to make this apartment feel as safe as he could. It was a baby step, but Milt took what he could get out of the tetchy man.

"You know Tanisha in apartment two?" Russ asked.

Milt did.

"She put a lawn and garden up on the roof. The door is right outside here, that key's on there too. Ask her if you have any questions about it. That's her deal, not mine. I don't do stupid things like change light bulbs or unclog toilets – well, except for Mister Doormen, but he grew up here and before his daughter died I promised he could stay until he needed assistance. Not sure how many more years he'll be here, but me and the other tenants are doing our best to keep him here for as long as we can."

"I will too."

"When you move your stuff in, if you scratch or put holes in the wall, you pay for them. I like my place clean and neat, I only give one warning for noise. You screw up, I'll kick you to the curb."

"Yes, Russ."

"Don't think I'm giving this place to you just 'cause we're partners."

"I don't," Milt lied.

Russ unfastened all the locks and sat the rod next to the door.

"I expect you out of my place by Sunday. Still doing Sunday dinner at five. If you're late, too bad." Russ walked out, closing the door behind him.

Milt walked over to the door and locked all the locks. His hand came to rest on the door knob. It was old and polished. He'd noticed these little touches all over the building, and now he knew who was responsible for them. Russ was more sentimental than Milt had first believed. He was a lot softer the closer to the center someone got too. It wasn't just the security of the apartment that made he had done to help Milt feel safe, it was allowing him to live in the same building, somehow knowing Milt really needed his partner's presence overall. Someday Milt may even the center of Russ Agnew, but he content with the glimpse he'd been given.

The End