[June 9th] [Perry Mason] Lux Aeterna, 9

[insaneladybug.livejournal.com]

Title: Lux Aeterna, scene 9
Day/Theme: June 9th - Beyond the sunset
Series: Perry Mason
Character/Pairing: Lieutenant Anderson, Sergeant Brice, Perry Mason, Della Street
Rating: K+/PG

Takes place after scene 7, which, I realized, would have to take place after Tragg is missing.

The song isn't mine and I'm not sure who holds the copyright, if anyone does.


By Lucky_Ladybug

Despite Florence’s rule, police business proceeded more or less as usual. All the divisions were kept busy; the criminals could not care less about the nation’s (and the world’s, for that matter) leadership changing hands. Everything from robbery to juvenile crimes remained steady.

And murder.

Lieutenant Anderson sighed to himself as he straightened from examining the body on the floor. Another dispute over money, it seemed. Those ended in tragedy so often. He was weary of it. Right now there were no concrete suspects, either.

“Where’s Sergeant Brice?” he asked one of the officers who had originally been called to the scene.

“I think he’s outside, Sir,” was the reply. “He was searching for clues in the yard, last I saw.”

“Thank you,” Andy said, heading for the door.

He raised an eyebrow when he got outside and saw. Sergeant Brice did not appear to be looking for anything at the moment. Instead he was standing at the edge of the front lawn, staring into space. It was almost sunset now, and the brilliant hues of red, orange, lavender, and pink were painted across the sky.

Andy approached the other man from behind. “Sergeant Brice?”

Brice started and turned. “Oh. I’m sorry, Lieutenant. I know I was supposed to be checking for evidence. I was, but I . . .” He considered his words and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Sir,” he said again. “I’ll get back to work.”

There was a definite sadness in his eyes and voice as he walked past Andy to resume his search of the yard. Andy frowned, gazing after him. “Sergeant,” he called. “Is something wrong?”

Brice stopped, weighing the answer to the question before replying at last. “I . . . well, I was just thinking about Lieutenant Tragg,” he said. “I was wondering where he is.”

Andy’s heart twisted. “I wonder too,” he said, unable to keep his own voice from thickening.

“He wouldn’t just not come back if he was okay,” Brice said. “It’s hard not to start thinking the worst.”

“I know.” Andy paused. “Was it this crime that made you suddenly start wondering now?”

“Not exactly, Lieutenant.” Brice looked back, nodding at the Western sky. “I guess you could say it was the sunset.”

Andy was perplexed. “The sunset, Sergeant?”

But Brice had no chance to explain. The officer came out of the house, looking to Andy. “Lieutenant? There’s something in here I think you need to see.”

Andy turned to face him. “Alright,” he said, feeling a mixture of reluctance, dread, and curiosity. He followed the patrolman back inside.

Sergeant Brice watched them go. Then, returning to the task at hand, he wandered the remainder of the yard.
****
It was late that night when Andy realized what Brice might have referred to. Exhausted from the long day and the new murder, he shuffled into his house and shut and locked the door behind him. He flipped on the television as background noise while he wandered around the abode readying himself for bed.

He was brushing his teeth when he heard something that made his blood run a bit cold. He had no idea what channel he had left it on—a country music channel, a gospel channel—but someone was singing a song with the phrase beyond the sunset. He paused to listen better.

Should you go first and I remain to walk the road alone
I'll live in mem'ry's garden dear with happy days we've known
In spring I'll wait for roses red, when fades the lilacs bloom
And in early fall when brown leaves fall, I'll catch a glimpse of you

Should you go first and I remain for battles to be fought
Each thing you've touched along the way will be a hallowed spot
I'll hear your voice, I'll see your smile, though blindly I may grope
The mem'ry of your helping hand will buoy me on with hope

Beyond the sunset oh blissful morning when with our Saviour heaven is begun
Earth's toiling ended, oh glorious dawning, beyond the sunset when day is done

Should you go first and I remain, to finish with the scroll
No lessening shadows shall ever creep in to make this life seem droll
We've known so much of happiness, we've had our cup of joy
And memory is one gift of God that death cannot destroy

I want to know each step you take that I may walk the same
For someday down that lonely road you'll hear me call your name
Should you go first and I remain, one thing I'll have you do
Walk slowly down that long, long path, for soon I'll follow you
In that fair homeland we'll know no parting, beyond the sunset forevermore

Andy gazed blankly into the sink. Not all of it fit, of course; it sounded more as though it was a song about a couple. But some parts rang a bit too close to home, such as the last verse, and the verse about “battles to be fought.” That haunted him. He and Tragg had fought so many battles against crime together. Was all of that over now?

Could Lieutenant Tragg be dead? Brice was right; it was impossible not to fear it was true. The more time that went by, the more it seemed possible, even likely. Andy did not want to believe it; neither he nor Brice could bear to, but the thought had to be faced.

He finished brushing his teeth, far more somber than before.
****
Andy had been dreading the next morning. For the first time, one of the missing rebels had reappeared—dead. His body had washed to shore on the beach. It was today that the funeral and interment had been scheduled. Perry had thought that they should attend, both out of respect for the man’s services and to try to facilitate good will between the rebel groups.

The funeral was a short service, held outside in the cemetery. It was a nice day, amazingly; the sun was out and it was not even too hot. A melancholy breeze wafted through the area, waving the palm and other trees and tousling most of the attendees’ hair.

The service was nice, too, but it only served to further stoke Andy’s fears about Lieutenant Tragg’s current whereabouts. A glance at Sergeant Brice made it clear that he felt the same. The thought had been unspoken among their group at large, but it wasn’t hard to imagine that it had crossed all of their minds.

When the prayer over the grave had been given and it was all over, they went as a collective body to give their condolences to the grieving family. The widow was visibly devastated; her makeup had not concealed her red eyes or how lost she looked. She held her children close, accepting all of the sympathies but seeming somehow mechanical as it continued. As Perry and the others approached, she tensed. She knew who they were.

“Mrs. Bruce?” He extended his hand. “We all want to offer our deepest condolences for your loss. Your husband was a great man.”

She gazed at his hand, not seeming to know whether she wanted to take it. “He was stubborn,” she replied, her voice vague and far away from all of this—the cemetery, the casket, the mourners. “He wasn’t going to let some witch take over the world. I just wonder . . .” She trailed off and started over. “I wonder what good it’s really done in the end. Now he’s gone and she’s still in power.”

“He inspired many people, Mrs. Bruce,” Perry said. “There are others who have taken up the cause because of his example.”

“And others who will die because of it,” she said. The bitterness was unmistakable. Andy flinched.

“But some will succeed.” Perry was persistent.

Andy wondered if he had yet realized that he was not going to have any success here. Having spoken with so many grieving widows, he had learned to begin recognizing which were crumbling under the strain and which were able to stay strong even under the circumstances. This woman had been pushed to her limit right now.

“Maybe,” she said. “But how many children are going to be left without their fathers?” She held her own closer. “I don’t know but what it wouldn’t be better to just leave Florence in power. She treats people pretty well when they support her.”

Perry’s eyes flickered with concern. “Mrs. Bruce, there must always be sacrifices when there is a cause worth fighting for,” he said. “This world was never meant to be under the rule of a power-hungry dictator. Surely you’re not considering going against everything your husband died for?”

Her eyes flashed. “Right now, Mr. Mason, I don’t know what I’m considering doing,” she said. “I don’t want these kids to grow up destitute because I’m with them all the time. But I also don’t want them to be without their mother as well as their father because I’m working all the time to make ends meet.”

Della touched Perry’s arm. “Perry . . .” She knew it was futile to push this right now. The woman was grieving too deeply. Perhaps later, when she was better able to compose herself, she would listen. But not now.

Perry either got the message or had been realizing it himself. He nodded quietly and stepped back. “Again, I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Bruce.”

She looked away. Still keeping an arm around each child, she turned and slowly walked off the green mat.
****
Andy only found the chance to speak with Sergeant Brice again at lunch. The funeral had shaken them too much to talk much before that.

“Sergeant,” he greeted as he approached the table and sat down.

Brice glanced up. “Oh. Hi, Lieutenant.”

Andy debated with himself on how best to begin. “Are you thinking about the funeral?” he asked at last.

Brice nodded. “I’m worried about what will happen to that family,” he said. “And . . . well, it didn’t help any about Lieutenant Tragg, either.” He sighed. “It was when Bruce’s body washed up that it really drove home that Lieutenant Tragg could be dead too.”

“I know.” Andy hesitated. “. . . Last night I heard a song on the television called Beyond the Sunset. Is that what you were thinking of at the murder scene when you mentioned the sunset?”

Brice blinked in surprise. “I wasn’t thinking of that, Lieutenant.” He looked down, sobering. “I shouldn’t have said what I did last night. We can’t give up on Lieutenant Tragg. Not yet.”

“We aren’t,” Andy said firmly. “But it would be impossible not to worry, after all this time. You just said as much yourself.

“Sergeant, I’d like to know. What were you thinking of?”

Brice sighed. “. . . Did you ever read The Lord of the Rings, Lieutenant?”

Andy rocked back. “Yes,” he said. “More than once. But I haven’t picked it up in some time. There hasn’t been much time for reading lately.”

“I know.” Brice looked up again at last. “Well, Lieutenant, it’s kind of strange that you heard that song. What I was thinking of involves that phrase, beyond the sunset. It’s a line Bilbo Baggins sings in his last song before he and Frodo leave Middle-Earth at the Grey Havens.”

“. . . I see,” Andy said. “I don’t remember that.”

Brice shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it again, Lieutenant,” he said, half-pleading. “Not until more time goes by or something turns up that really makes it look like Lieutenant Tragg is gone.”

“Of course.” Andy fully understood Brice’s feelings. He did not want to think that Tragg was dead, either. And yet the part of him that worried felt as though he had to address it sometimes, instead of just pushing it away. If he continued to cling solely to hope and that hope was later decimated, he might crack as Mrs. Bruce had done.

Brice toyed with a new napkin on the table without really focusing on what he was doing. “. . . Almost a year ago, when you were shot and we heard the news here at headquarters, I could hardly believe it. I couldn’t believe it when we got the call that you were dead.”

Andy averted his gaze. Now he felt uncomfortable. “I’m sorry.”

“Everything just . . . turned upsidedown, just like that. And I don’t want to feel like that again, not if there’s not a reason. I’m worried too, Lieutenant, but I’m trying to push it away. I want to think that Lieutenant Tragg will come back alive and well from some wild adventure.” Brice looked down. “Maybe I’m just letting myself believe the impossible. But . . .”

“Sometimes the impossible is a good thing, Sergeant,” Andy said. “And sometimes it even comes true.” He paused. “. . . If you’re letting yourself be unduly influenced by The Lord of the Rings, are you picturing Tragg as Bilbo?” He wasn’t sure where that odd question had come from. Maybe he was just trying to get his mind on something more light-hearted.

The comparison wasn’t so off-the-wall as all that, though. Tragg and Bilbo certainly had in common a particular grumpiness. And they also both possessed hearts of gold.

Brice looked amazed by the abrupt change of subject. “. . . Well, I don’t think . . .” He paused, shook his head, and started over. “I wasn’t thinking of that, Lieutenant. And yet I guess in a way, maybe I was.”

“I’m not so sure he’d be appreciative,” Andy quipped.

“He might pretend not to be, but I think he’d see the good-natured humor in it,” Brice said.

Andy smiled. Brice was right. And maybe, if they could gently joke like this, it would help sustain them until Tragg came back.

If he came back.