Prolouge:

Jebediah Flower was no murderer. Although the temptation was further increased by the presence of the gun in hand, his finger on the trigger, the thought of properly satisfying the ache in the back of his mind that had been eating at him for the last year. But he was no murderer. However, justice was fair game. 

Chapter One: Mr. Flower

Jebediah Ridley sat in his desk chair, his feet propped up on the wooden desk, book resting in his lap, salad in his left hand and fork in the other as he ate his lunch. Jebediah was rarely ever called “Jebediah” except for by his mother, and usually preferred to be called Ridley or Jeb. The latter of which was reserved for his partner, and the former was often used by his peers. His lunch wasn't just lunch, the simple act of eating one's food in a designated time that was often during the midway point throughout the day. His lunch, was a ritual. It usually involved a salad of some kind, a book which was usually a novel that was placed in his lap, and the mindless playing of frank sinatra’s “The world we knew.” Which played on repeat. Today, “A Lesson In Chemistry”, rested in his lap, about half read, and he was about half an hour into his break when knocking sounded on his office door.

Jebediah was startled, he didn’t hear the knocking because his music was playing in his headphones, which weren’t really “headphones” but wireless earbuds. So when a woman opened the door and suddenly appeared, he was startled. he removed one of his earbuds, set his salad, book, and fork on the desk and stood up to greet the stranger. A woman in a burgundy three piece suit, towering glossy black heels, and a laptop bag in hand, stood in the doorway. Before Jebediah could apologize for not hearing her or explain why he looked so started she began to speak.

“Are you Jebediah Flower?” she asked. Now Jebediah was greatly confused at the appearance of this woman, but far more confused at the words she said. To understand his confusion you must learn a few things about him. Firstly, Jebediah was married to a Samuel Flower. However, the knowledge of this union was known to very few people. He kept this knowledge obscure for quite few reasons. One of the reasons being a necessity for privacy and Jebediah’s own introverted nature. He was a man who preferred to keep his own business and preferred for you to keep your own business to yourself. (a rule his husband wasn't particularly fond of due to it's main part in contributing to Jebediah's lack of interest in all things drama and gossip.) And the other reason simply being that the Midland Police Department wasn't aware that Jebediah was in a relationship, let alone married. Since most of his "friendly acquaintances" were a part of the police department, nearly nobody involved in his life knew of his marriage, let alone the changing of his last name. And quite frankly, Jebediah wanted to keep it that way so when he eloped he never ended up telling anyone except his mother, and rather begrudgingly the inlaws. To ensure this was additionally obscure, Jebediah wore his wedding band on a light chain necklace, to avoid any speculation that the presence of a band on one's left hand may impose. This action greatly annoyed Samuel Flower, but even after 8 years of marriage he couldn’t convince him to stop him. Of course Jebediah wasn't always like this, however, once a person makes a mistake that has great consequences they are very unlikely to make it again. And Jebediah, was one of those people. 

“Jebediah Flower?” she repeated, as a question. “Are you Jebediah Flower?”. He nodded slowly. Brow furrowed in confusion as he tried to remember or think if this was one of his husband’s friends or maybe an acquaintance he had forgotten.

In this situation there are a lot of questions one could ask when a strange woman in a burgundy suit and particularly shiny high heels steps into your office and asks for you by a particularly obscure name. Jebediah being a detective, and a rather good one, asked a question that would give him the most information possible.

“How do you know my last name?” he asked. The woman gave a tight smile.

“I think you know,” she answered. Jebediah was frustrated, because he did not know. But at the same time he didn’t want to seem stupid for asking something that might be entirely too obvious. But he didn’t have a choice.

“There are only a few things I know concerning what is happening right now and far fewer things that I understand,” he stated. The woman nodded.

“Sinclare,” she said, extending her hand toward him in a gesture of introduction. When he made no move to cross the distance between them, she let her hand drop and pressed on, unfazed. “Let's go out for coffee. You like coffee, right? Not tea?” Her words were casual, but the invitation carried a subtle insistence. “Over coffee, I can explain a few more things,” she added, already striding purposefully toward the door, expecting him to follow.

“No!” Jebediah exclaimed, his voice sharper than he intended. The word echoed in the small room, causing Sinclare to stop in her tracks and turn abruptly, her eyes narrowing slightly in surprise.

“No?” she repeated as a question.

“Sinclare what? Who are you? You can’t provide me with your first name as if you're Cher and invite me out to coffee?” he protested. She smiled again, amused at his response.

“You make a fair point. I am Sinclare Barlow. We can skip the coffee and save you time. You're a detective, I need a mystery solved. I suspect that one of my business associates is stealing money from the company and depositing it into their own private account. We are going on a retreat in Italy in a month, and I want you to be there and find out who it is,” she said. Jebediah didn’t respond.

“I’m not a private detective. I have a job and cases to work on and….

“30,000 dollars right now if you agree and an additional 90,000 upon completion,” she declared rather confidently.

“No!” he exclaimed.

-

Jebediah sat in his driveway next to the silver blue prius contemplating whether or not to tell his husband or to forget the whole thing. After nearly 20 minutes, he finally came to the conclusion that he should tell him because he would need someone to talk to about it, and seeing that it did partly concern him he could probably get some answers.

Samuel Flower, who was usually called Sam, except for the rare occasion where Jebediah got angry, was an African American man who was roughly 5’11’’ and often joked he was more suited for mini golf rather than basketball. He sported a simple mustache, no beard, and had a close cropped hair that was cut every 4 weeks. He was a full time high school counselor who worked Tuesdays through Fridays and had a part time jobs as a nurse at a volunteer clinic. The result of this was due to his nursing degree he had earned in 3 years and after being dissatisfied at work left for a different degree. On days he volunteered at the clinic he wore a pair of gray scrubs which he often lounged around the house in, and on school days he often wore cardigans in the shades of burgundy, navy blue, and the occasionally sage green. After spending 8 years of his adolescent life in Great Britain with his parents he had developed an accent that had stuck with him for his entire life. He was a cook as well, and he cooked most meals leaving the dishes and cleaning up to Jebediah. Sam was waiting for Jebediah, since he was late he had already eaten and set Jebediah’s plate in the microwave to keep warm.

The door opened and Jebediah walked in, taking off his shoes and hanging his coat. He walked over tothe counter and sat down on a bar stool.

“Ah yes, the necklace of infidelity,” muttered Sam. Jebediah rolled his eyes.

“You are the worst.” he joked. Sam scoffed.

“Guess who is gonna have to fake being sick for another date tomorrow?” asked Sam.

“Who’s the lucky girl?” asked Jebediah, smirking with amusement. Sam’s face was shown nowhere near the same amount of glee.

“Christian,” said Sam.

“You know, I’m confused. Can they not tell your…” Jebediah stopped realizing far too late where this was going.

“No please continue,” insisted Sam, with a pointed expression, his eyes squinted and head tilted to the side.

“Nothing,” muttered Jebediah.

“Tell what Jebediah? Tell that I am married? Because it is pretty hard to tell when my husband refuses to admit we are even in a relationship. For all they know, I have a roommate,” said Sam. Jebediah laughed at the last part, which made Sam get angry.

“Sounds very historical. Bridgerton type shit, you love that show,” he said. Sam attempted to control his facial expression, even though what Jebediah said was admittedly funny.

“Come on, you can laugh, we both know it’s funny,” said Jebediah, with a grin plastered on his face.

“It’s not funny,” insisted Sam who went to the microwave and took the plate out, setting it on the counter where Jebediah usually ate when he came home late. This didn't happen often but It happened enough that the two had a routine.

“I know you're at least smiling,” said Jebediah. Sam rolled his eyes. He stood on the other side of the counter, like he always did, leaning against it, like he did with most doorways or tables.

“Are you going to ask me how my day was?” asked Sam. Jebediah groaned.

“Fine. How was work?” asked Jebediah, already regretting asking, because it was usually accompanied by an involuntary inclusion of gossip. He took a bite of the food and gave a thumbs up and wide eyes in response.

“Oh. I’m so glad you asked darling. So you know Candy the receptionist, she apparently found out about Mary’s baby’s gender and told like half of the unit “by accident” three days before the gender reveal party,” said Sam reaching for a wine glass and pulling out a bottle of wine from the fridge.

“Did she really!” exclaimed Jebediah with mock enthusiasm.

“Didn’t your therapist tell you to work on showing more real interest in other people’s lives,” asked Sam. Jebediah scoffed.

“Gossip isn’t “showing interest in other people's lives” darling dearest. It is talking behind people’s backs,” said Jebediah.

“You're no fun! However, the gender reveal party is on Saturday and I am sure it will be so much fun,” prompted Sam.

“I am not going to that!” exclaimed Jebediah.

“Please, it will be so much fun!” begged Sam his hands clasped together in a dramatic show of pleading. Jebediah shook his head.

“No, I am not going. But you should go,” suggested Jebediah as he took another bite of food.

“I am already planning on going. It’s just that all of my friends are bringing their partners and you should totally go so that I won’t be alone and sad,” said Sam.

“Why do you even need a date for that? It’s not like it is a wedding. I mean come on. Here’s an easy solution. Just don’t go! Stay home with me,” suggested Jebediah while taking a bite of food. Sam groaned.

Once Jebediah finished eating, Sam offered to do the dishes which freed up Jebediah to take a shower. Once all the dishes were complete, and Jebediah had showered they found themselves sitting in the living room looking for a show to watch.

It was exactly 25 minutes into the first episode of a show they had spent nearly an hour picking, when Jebediah finally decided to bring up his encounter earlier in the day. They sat on the couch in the living room. Jebediah lay stretched out on the couch, his feet resting in Sam’s lap, his legs crossed as he faced forward. Sam had a glass of wine in hand and was playing some sort of game on his phone, it looked to be a trivia game. The room was only lit by the tv and a lamp near Jebediah’s corner of the couch. Jebediah reached for the remote and paused the show which made Sam look up.

"Why did you pause it? You don't even like this show," said Sam, which was a perfectly valid point that Jebediah would not dispute. However, he had to get to the point. 

“Do you know a woman by the name of Sinclaire Barlow?” he asked. As soon as the words left his mouth Sam’s expression shifted, his eyes widening eyebrows raising.

“No?” he answered, the words obviously dragging out slowly as a lie.

“Samuel Flower,” warned Jebediah, although it was not a real warning.

“Don’t you use my full name, Jebediah Ridley. It was literally nothing. I met her twice. She was concerned about her child’s behavior in school, and so we texted a little bit and went out for tea and scones and…” Sam trailed off, glancing away. The room seemed to hold its breath, the silence speaking louder than words. He shifted his weight, fiddling with the edge of his sleeve, leaving the rest unsaid.

“And what?” asked Jebediah quietly, non-threatening realizing Sam was hiding something.

“She asked me out, kinda, not officially or anything." said Sam quietly. 

"She what!" growled Jebediah. 

"Are you good, you look a little angry," said Sam. 

"Of course she did. Of course she fucking did. " said Jebediah, the information clicking into place. Asking Sam out was the easiest way to find out about Jebediah, because of course she already knew about him but she needed Sam to admit they were together and that they were in a relationship because aftering talking to Sam for like ten seconds anyone could figure out that Sam would talk and talk and talk about the things he loved for hours on end. This passion was one of the reasons he loved Sam, but also one of his most frustrating qualites.

"Don't worry it wasn't that bad, I just told her that I was with someone. And then she asked your name and I kinda said your first and last name because I didn't want her to know we were married and then she started weirdly fan girling over you and the whole "Mirical Case thing". I mean she moved on from me so quickly, like damn girl had her priorities and then I talked about you fir a little bit and I am so sorry. I know you're very particular about our relationship and having it completly private. I realized I fucked it all up and made it a mess, and I’m sorry,” said Sam the words tumbling out in a rush of Emotions.

“Don’t be sorry. I'm not angry at you, I am mostly mad at her.” said Jebediah. He got up from his position on the couch.

“I’m just frustrated it took you a week to tell me about this,” he explained.

“Well, you don’t care about my friends, so I don’t bring them up to you. Your eyes literally glaze over when I tell you about what's happening in their lives,” explained Sam.

“This is different. I don’t care about Mary’s fucking baby shower. Or Beth's drama with Christine. This involves you, and I care about you. I need you to be safe.” said Jebediah.

“I know! And I am safe.” said Sam. Jebediah left the room. He went to the hallway near the door. He started tying his shoes. Sam followed him and grabbed the car keys before he could. He hid them behind his back. Once Jebediah finished tying his shoes he reached for the car keys and was surprised to not find them there. He looked up at Sam and stood up.

“Can I have the car keys,” he asked. His arms crossed over his chest. Sam shook his head. “Sam please,” he pleaded.

“No, you're going to do something stupid or rash. And I won’t let you,” insisted Sam.

“You don’t understand…

“No! I do! You feel like your world is spiraling out of control and you want to protect me or something heroic and this woman is messing you up.” said Sam, his tone gone from lighthearted to stern.

“God, I hate having you as my therapist,” muttered Jebediah.

“Am I wrong though?” asked Sam cocking an eyebrow.

“No, obviously. I just don’t want to fail you like I did for her so I just need to close this door so that it’s dealt with.” explained Jebediah.

“It wasn’t a failure. It was a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes” assured Sam. Jebediah shook his head.

“It wasn’t a fucking mistake,” protested Jebediah through gritted teeth. Sam nodded.

“And you're sure about this you could just wait until morning,” he asked. Jebediah nodded. He handed the keys.

“Wait,” he said, leaving the room and going in search of his phone. Once he found it he handed it to Jebediah.

“Her information is on here,” he said. “And if you're not back within the hour I will be very mad at you, and you’ll have to sleep in your office” said Sam. Jebediah nodded soberly. He headed out the door.

-

“We need to talk,” said Jebediah who stood outside the house, leaning on the back of the car.

“I’m glad to hear it,” said Sinclair. The absence of the car starting, but the sound of the wheels skidding away from the curb informed Jebediah that she must be nearby.

“I assume you don’t need the address,” said Jebediah. The phone hung up, answering the question for him. He waited about a minute until a sleek black car pulled up outside the house. The window was already rolled down.

“That was awful fast, I don’t suppose you live in the neighborhood” noted Jebediah.

“No need to sound so accusatory, I was only here a few minutes,” she admitted. “I honestly thought you would be out sooner,” she added. Jebediah looked thoroughly annoyed.

“Come on, get in the car.” she said. He did so and opened the door.

“Do you live nearby or just stalk people for a personal hobby,” asked Jebediah. Sinclair laughed.

“I didn’t realize you had jokes,” she muttered as she shifted the car gear.

Jebediah looked far more annoyed than he was before, but did so. As soon as the click sounds Sincalir put the car into drive and sped down the street.

“14 million dollars. That's how much that has been stolen from my company Jebediah and I want it back” she said.

“You ought to be paying me much more for someone whose company is worth much more,” said Jebediah. She laughed at this.

“Sam was right, you are funny,” she smiled.

“That wasn’t a joke,” he seethed.

“Ok then,” she said, making a wide eyed expression of annoyance herself.

“About the money though, I could double it or triple it, whatever it takes…” she began.

“Why me?” asked Jebediah. It was pointed, demanding an answer.

“Well, because you're special,” she said partly as a joke but Jebedia did not laugh.

“Bet you’ll say I am gifted too. Special is the kids who don’t talk until 1st grade. That’s the kind of special I am.” protested Jebediah.

“Special is a word for someone who was able to solve an unsolved crime case at the age of 20 after no one was able to solve it for 10 years,” she argued.

“That was luck,” corrected Jebedia.

“There was nothing lucky about that. You have skill,” she said.

“I had skill, I’m not 20 anymore, and I’m not Sherlock Holmes or whatever you think. All I do is work with crimes in the Midland Police Department jurisdiction,” protested Jebediah.

“Well, technically, it’s a crime,” she stated.

“One petty ass crime,” he muttered.

“A 14 million dollar theft,” he corrected. He sighed.

“When did you first notice the money leaving the account?” asked Jebediah slightly shifting the subject.

“Last year. It was in the sum of 10,000 dollars allocated for a “private jet travel,” but something seemed off. Then whoever did it got more confident. More and more money,” she said. Jebediah sighed, not really wanting to engage but also not able to help himself.

“What was the largest amount?” he asked, his arms crossed over his chest, his knees close together. Whoever sat in the car last must have been someone much shorter. Next to his tennis shoes were a pair of designer heels, different from the ones she had on before. Sinclair drove barefoot.

“130,000,” she said. “Are you considering taking the job?” she asked. He shook his head.

“No,” he said.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I said no,” he said.

“Samuel said you would say no at first,” said Sinclaire.

“Well, Sam, can be wrong sometimes,” said Jebediah although even he knew this was a lie, but not wanting to admit the reality of Sam actually being right.

She drove the car with ease, her red-painted nails on the white leather steering wheel. The car drifted and weaved in and out of traffic. It took Jebediah far too long to realize where they were going, a slightly different route than usual, but one he had taken.

“Why are we going to the morgue?" he asked, sitting up very alert.

“I have something for you,” she said.

“No!” he exclaimed, panic flashing in his eyes. “I am not playing a maniacal game of sorts. Why are we going there?” he asked.

“I have something for you,” she repeated. Jebediah struggled to steady his breathing. What he needed was to be out of this car, with Sam, away from here. He had been there way too many times. In fact, multiple times a day in a stretch of time he wanted to forget.

Once they arrived, he stayed in the car, frozen. She got out, still barefoot, and headed inside. She returned rather quickly as if whatever she was waiting for was already ready for her. In her hands was a box, one of those white banker boxes with lines for writing. Written on the third box was a name, Ophelia Flower-Case 293-Evidence. She opened his door and handed him the box.

“How did you get this?” he asked.

“Never mind that,” she said, shaking her head.

“I can't have this. It’s evidence, it’s evidence for the case,” he protested, unable to take it.

“No, it is the leftover pieces from a little girl’s life, and her parents ought to have it” she corrected. Jebediah couldn’t really speak. He reached for the box and held it close to him. Unable to take off the lid, he stood like this for a second.

“I’ll do it. Double the price,” said Jebediah. Sinclair nodded.

“I knew you’d come around,” she smiled softly.

-

Once Jebediah got home, he opened the side door to the garage and hid the box amid an old painting tarp, ensuring that it was well concealed. He walked back outside and pushed the front door open, the warm aroma of freshly brewed tea enveloped him, a comforting scent that was always part of Sam’s presence. He spotted Sam waiting patiently in the kitchen. Sam stood by the counter. A steaming mug of fragrant chamomile tea rested beside an open book.

“I see you're reading one of my books,” said Jebediah, as he pulled Sam into a tight hug.

“You're late,” whispered Sam getting right to the point, his chin resting on Jebediah’s shoulder.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he apologized.

“I stayed up for you,” frowned Sam.

“I know, I'll do better, darling. I promise,” said Jehbedeia.

“You're gonna have to make it up to me,” said Sam, pulling away from the hug, arms crossed. Jebediah nodded.

“Yeah, and how will I do that?” asked Jebediah, taking a sip of tea and spitting it back into the cup suprised at the taste.

“Jebediah. That is disgusting!” exclaimed Sam.

“No sugar?” asked Jebediah.

 “I used honey,” he protested.

“No, you didn’t,” groaned Jebediah, looking inside the mug for any trace of sweetener and setting the glass back down.

“Do you really want to argue with me? I am so pissed at you right now” said Sam his arms crossed. Jebediah backed him up against the counter walking in close, he put his hands on either side of Sam. Sam uncrossed his arms

“No I do not darling, however, I find it hard to believe that your really that mad at me” said Jebediah quietly, his lips close Sam’s ear.

“You're going to drink that whether you like it or not,” Sam insisted, giving a mock stern look.

“Oh yeah,” said Jebediah, a smile creeping onto his face.

“Do you mean for there to be this much sexual energy or am I just imagining it?” asked Sam biting his lip.

“I mean, you did just bite your lip Samuel,” smirked Jebediah planting a gentle kiss on Sam’s neck. “But yes, I think there is a little bit,” he said.

“No!” said Sam loudly, ducking under Jebediah’s arm so he was not longer trapped in the corner. “I am not going to let you seduce your way out of this,” protested Sam. Jebediah, smiled, amused at his husband's antics.

“I am still mad at you. It’s late, and I’m tired, and it’s a Thursday and I have work tomorrow and you made me stay up late” said Sam.

“So, what do you want to do?” asked Jebediah, who walked into the kitchen in search of a snack. “We could go to sleep, watch something, or whatever,” said Jebediah.

“How about we watch the bachelorette,” offered Sam, his eyes lighting up with excitement. Jebediah groaned loudly.

“I thought you were tired, after all it is a Thursday" teased Jebediah, who had found a stash of candy.

“You're so mean to me.” frowned Sam, feigning offense.

“Darling, I think you're just being a touch delicate, want some candy,” offered Jebediah.

“Yes please,” Sam from the living room, since he was already pulling up the show on the TV.

“Does this mean we're even?” he asked from the kitchen, as he filled a bento box with candy, separating all the different kinds, since it was the only way Sam would eat food, due to his massive disgust of food touching.

“No!” said Sam, laughing hysterically.