[June 7th] [Perry Mason] Lux Aeterna, 7

[insaneladybug.livejournal.com]

Title: Lux Aeterna, scene 7
Day/Theme: June 7th - Summers that have been
Series: Perry Mason
Character/Pairing: Mignon Germaine, assorted OCs
Rating: T/PG-13

Takes place probably before Tragg disappears.


By Lucky_Ladybug

This certainly had to be the strangest summer Mignon had ever lived through. And that was not really a good thing. Florence’s influence was widespread; there were very few places to go where she had not fully asserted her authority.

The beach was another besides the cemetery that seemed to be as it had always been. Families gathered on the sand, reading and playing in the lapping tide and building sand castles. Surfers rode the waves, carefree and dare-devilish as always. Vendors sold their goods. There was always someone out there who wanted to buy some of their food, even if they knew it wasn’t healthy for them.

Mignon walked quietly down the beach, taking it all in but remaining detached from it all. It looked peaceful enough. Maybe these people did not care about Florence’s reign. Or perhaps they did but were trying to forget.

She remembered happier years. When Larry was a child, she had brought him to the beach many times. He had loved it, scampering and frolicking about and wanting to explore everything. They probably still had the old seashells he had collected. The boys on the beach today, enthusiastically finding a starfish, reminded her of him.

She had come at times with Hamilton as well. Hamilton did not often go to the beach; he preferred the mountains. But he could still be found at the shore, generally with someone else. Sometimes he accompanied Perry on his fishing excursions. Hamilton was not so much a fishing enthusiast, but Perry certainly was. Hamilton usually sat back and watched Perry’s attempts at snagging a big one, perking up and cheering him on when there was a bite.

A couple of times the entire group had come to the beach. They had made quite a spectacle: three attorneys (Larry had been there), a private detective, a secretary, three and sometimes four policemen wandering in and out, and a nightclub dancer. Those occasions had been pleasant days of complete harmony—very rare considering all the trouble they ended up in.

This summer had brought what might very well be their worst crisis yet. Florence’s regime was worrisome, painful, and detrimental to all of them. It opposed them in quiet ways, rather than bearing down as an unbearable weight, but it was bad enough. Florence was slowly but surely gathering loyal followers by showering with money and other gifts those who swore allegiance to her. And the more power she collected, the stronger her hold over the people of Earth would be.

She had mostly left those who opposed her alone, as long as they did not actively try to bring her down. She still believed she could sway some of them to her side. And unfortunately, she was right. More people changed their minds and went to her as the days and weeks went by. They wanted the extras she was willing to offer them. Oh, they were not all greedy, though; there were quite a few who simply wanted to provide for their families and did not know how except to join with Florence. That was the tragedy of it all.

Perhaps someday, if things continued in this vein, the beaches would be mostly empty except for those people loyal to her. Everyone else might be banned. Or worse, everyone else might be a miniscule number.

A horrified cry from a young woman near the water’s edge brought Mignon’s attention sharply up. “Over there!” the stranger wailed, frantically pointing at the rolling tides. “It’s coming in!”

The lifeguard leaped from his post to draw closer and investigate. The other people on the beach crowded around, their natural curiosity (and perhaps their secretly morbid natures) driving them to want a closer look.

Mignon was already near enough that she could see what the waves were bringing in. Her eyes narrowed slightly. It was a human body. Worse, she recognized it as the corpse of a man in one of the city’s other rebel groups.

Once the people were convinced of what it was, many of them fled. Some children began to cry. The lifeguard ran for a phone to call the police.

Mignon stayed where she was, the Pacific Ocean lapping at her feet and at the hapless form it had deposited on the sand. A gentle breeze swirled in off the water, causing the edges of her dark skirt to dance in the wind. She clasped her hands, gazing at the body.

This was the first of the missing to return. Had Florence had him tortured? Had he escaped from her guards? Had they simply killed him and hoisted his body into the sea?

Or could he have simply drowned, no foul play whatsoever involved?

Mignon stood gazing at the sorry form for a long moment before she turned away at last, whispered prayers on her breath. They were not only for him, but for the family she knew he had. They would be devastated. They had held out hope, albeit admittedly waning, that he was alive. She could imagine all too well how they, especially his wife, would break down when the police arrived with the news.

A meeting would have to be called tonight to discuss the matter. Perry and Hamilton would both be gravely concerned. Della would be horrified. And everyone else would likely be in varying states of concern and horror. The worst part was that there was nothing they could do about it except to be concerned and horrified.

And Mignon could not help wondering if everything was her fault, if she had indirectly caused this madness because she had not been able to destroy the Forbidden Box no matter how she had tried. Its hold of evil was too strong for not only her, but the vodun priests and priestesses and other clergy she had called in desperation. Even her friend in Oregon, who worked at the museum in a strange little town up there, had failed in her attempts to obliterate the deadly container. She had only succeeded in concealing it once more. But Florence had found it anyway.

As she walked back up the beach she could not help noticing one child away from everyone else, standing and shuddering with sobs. Frowning, she went over closer. Hearing her approach, the young girl looked up. “Why is there a man in the water like that?!” she cried.

“I don’t know,” Mignon answered quietly and honestly.

The child was not in a chatty mood. But she did not want to be alone, either. She grabbed Mignon around the waist, hugging her tight as she buried her face against Mignon’s blouse.

Mignon held her close. “Where is your family?” she asked.

“Up there.” The girl indicated the group on the beach. “I was down here and I saw . . .” She trailed off.

“I will take you to them,” Mignon said.

The child looked up, the tears streaking down her face. “Really?”

“Yes.” Mignon took the small hand.

She was relieved when, as they drew closer to the crowd, several voices could be heard screaming “Molly!” She had worried that the girl had been forgotten, although at the same time she had hoped desperately that she was wrong. And from their tones, they were frantic.

She soon delivered the child to her mother, and received a stack of sincere Thank you’s from the grateful woman. The little girl snuggled into her mother’s arms, her own small arms around the woman’s neck. She was still shuddering, still horrified by what she had seen. But as Mignon moved to leave she managed a weak smile and a “Thank you” of her own.

Mignon smiled at her in response. “It will be alright,” she said softly.

“It won’t be for that man,” the girl mumbled.

A new wave of sadness washed over Mignon as she left the little family to try to comfort the traumatized child. It was true that scenes such as this could happen any time, not just during Florence’s reign. But as long as Mignon knew that the dead man had been part of the rebellion, she had to wonder if this particular scene would have happened if not for that woman.

Yes, she had definitely known happier summers than this.