The romanti sooky sooky story PART6

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As soon as he was about to reach for another auto magazine, his peripheral vision caught sight of both detectives making their way over to him. He stood , and greeted both,shook their hands and waiting for what they had to say.

Det. Stephens was the first to speak, "Hardelle...you came back."

"Just to make sure she was alright, I heard what happened this morning," he replied.

"Yea, Nurse Smith told us about that. Little lady's got some fire in her, doesn't she?" he chuckled, as he nudged his partner. "Anyways," he continued, "we've got things to discuss."

They all sat in the lounge, James' nerves on edge, because of the tone of Det. Stephen's voice.

"We've been interrogating her all morning." Stephens began.

"And?" James asked, his full attention on the detective.

"We've come to one conclusion." He said again.

"What's that?" James' curiousity was at its peak.

"She's Russian." Jones blurted out.

James eyes furrowed, "I already know that, have you not learned anything new?"

"You knew she was Russian?" Jones' eyebrow rose in suspicion.

"yea, she said something in Russian to me before she passed out again in her hospital bed. I don't know what it meant, but i recognized the accent. I had a Russian roommate in college, his accent sounded the same."

"What did she say?" Det. Stephens asked, writing down bits and pieces of the conversation in his notepad.

"She said the word, 'Otets'." James replied, as he ran his hands through his hair.

"Well, we've decided that she'll be staying with you while we try to figure out who she is," Stephens  said, still scribbling in his notepad.

"WHAT?! Are you guys insane?! What if I'm some psycho-killer-rapist?! What if I have a girlfriend?! You can't dump her on me!" James shouted, causing all the visiting families in the lounge to cast their attention on him.

"Calm down Mr. 5th Avenue, number 25, studio apartment A102, who lives alone." Jones said as he tugged James back into his chair.

"What the hell? You were following me?!" He pointed an accusing finger at both detectives.

Stephens shrugged, "yea, it's our job, we detect."

James hung his head and sighed, "And how did you two make this decision?"

Jones began, "Well, when we heard it was you who found her, we did some research." He opened his notepad and continued, " Born in Detroit, Michigan, May 25th(Tara's b-day^_^) 1985, to Selene and Jonathan Hardelle. Two younger siblings, Jane and Mark. Moved to New York, attended Rochester Elementary, then to Forest hills High school, graduated ahead of your class. Attended NYU graduated last year with Bachelors and Masters degree  of Arts. Now you're a manager at some hoity toity art gallery in the upper east side. All of this with a squeaky clean record. Haven't even stolen a candy bar."

James was in awe, "I think you just summed up my whole like if 50 words or less."

"Listen Hardelle, we don't usually just drop a girl on some strange guy, we just don't know where to put her. We don't know if she's a lost girl, or a witness to something. She doesn't remember anything about her past, or how she got here, she's just as lost as we are. Thank God we had a translator in there, 'cuz we would've been even more lost." Stephens said, throwing his hands in the air in frustration.

"She doesn't remember anything?" James asked.

"Not even her own name." Jones replied.

"Well, do the same research you did for me." James said non-chalantly.

"It ain't that easy kid. Ever since the Cold war in 1960(look it up), the Russians ain't so fond of America. We can't access any of their files or records without a request, which takes weeks to months to process." Stephens said.

James ran his palm over his face, then folded both in his lap. "Anything else?" he asked, seemingly calm.

""we found some brown and blond hair on her suit, that obviously doesn't belong to her. Could be anyone's really, a friend she hugged that day, the bellhop, anyone. But at least it'll give us some clues as to who she is." Jones replied.

James sighed, perhaps for the fifth or so time that day and said nothing. then he spoke, "What about you two? Don't you guys have wives? Sisters? Y'know, people that understand women?"

"I'm a bachelor, and Stephens here, lives with his mother." Jones replied.

Stephens offered an explanation quickly, "She's sick real bad, I can afford a day nurse, not in a live-in one. So I gotta take care of her at night."

"You're a bachelor, she can live with you." James said, like a complaining child who wanted a cherry lollipop, instead of grape flavor.

"nah, Stephens suggested that to the cap'n, she wasn't too fond of the idea. Said it would look like I was her sugar daddy, and that would not look good. I gotta agree with her." Jones said.

James sighed again. There was no escaping it. "Fine."

As soon as that four letter word was uttered from his mouth, both detectives rose from their chairs, and made their way to the exit, while shouting behind them, "We'll be coming to your place if we've made any progress. That, and we'll be dropping by every now and then to make sure you really aren't a psycho-killer-rapist." Jones said, causing everyone to stare at James with a little twinge of fear.

There was no escaping it.

He had to take her home with him.