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Be Careful what You Wish For
A Musketeers modern AU story by Deana
My entry in the July 'Fete des Mousquetaires' contest!
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"I'M BORED! Why aren't people killing each other lately!"
Everyone swung their eyes towards Aramis, who was sprawled in his office chair with his feet up on his desk, crossed at the ankles. His right shoe was untied, which he apparently had yet to notice.
"Let me rephrase," Aramis continued. "I'm not saying that I want people to die, but we haven't had a case in two weeks! There's nothing to do!"
"There's always paperwork," Athos dryly said, typing away on his computer.
"Mine is all done!" Aramis told him, spreading his hands to indicate his spotless desk. "I literally have absolutely nothing to do."
"I agree with Aramis," said Porthos. "I want some action."
"Why can't you just enjoy the peace?" Athos asked.
"Peace?" said Aramis, swinging his legs off the desk. "Athos, how many times have I been in the hospital in the past year?"
Athos looked at him. "Too many."
"Exactly," said Aramis. "I've either been there or on medical leave more than I've worked! Today, for once, I actually feel good." He winced when he said that, hoping that his friends wouldn't question his meaning. "I don't want to just sit here." He stood up before any of them could ask him what exactly he meant by 'for once'. "I'm going to the bakery. The usual?"
Athos nodded.
"Porthos?"
"Yup."
Aramis nodded. "Good; I shall return from my mission momentarily." He took two steps away from his desk…and tripped over his shoelace.
Porthos dove out of his chair to grab him.
Aramis swallowed his gasp of pain when a muscle in his left lower back stretched the wrong way. "Thanks," he said. "I'm fine." He knelt to tie his shoelace, inwardly wincing from the ache. When he straightened back up, he found Athos' disbelieving eyes staring into his own, as if he'd felt the pain himself.
"Be right back!" Aramis said, before heading out the door. He passed d'Artagnan coming in and took his order too, before getting into his car.
The purr of the Camaro's engine always did wonders to soothe Aramis' mind, and he straightened the Pusheen plush that hung from the mirror before he drove off.
The bakery was barely a mile away, and Aramis went inside and studied every delicious item, as he always did. He couldn't leave without buying some extras, and it was a slightly happier Aramis that walked back inside the precinct fifteen minutes later.
"People are such idiots," he heard someone say as he headed up to the detective division. "Even though someone dies, they just keep selling."
"Selling what, Bob?" Aramis asked.
"Fireworks!" Bob answered.
"Someone got killed by setting off fireworks?" said Aramis.
"Yup."
Aramis held out his hand for the file. "I'll take the case."
Bob looked relieved. "You will? That would be great; I already have my hands full."
"My pleasure!" said Aramis. He took the file and hurried back to his office. "Gentlemen!" he exclaimed, after opening the door. "I have it!"
Athos, Porthos, and d'Artagnan looked at him.
"Besides the pastry?" said Porthos. "What?"
Aramis walked over to his desk and plopped the file down in front of him. "Our new case!"
"What is it?" Athos asked.
"I snatched it from Bob," said Aramis, passing out the goodies. "A fireworks death."
D'Artagnan winced at that.
Aramis noticed. "You know someone who was killed by fireworks?"
"When I was a kid," d'Artagnan said. "The father of a friend. He was a super-nice guy."
"Horrible," Porthos commented, biting into his brownie.
"It's very sad when that happens," Aramis said, handing d'Artagnan his chocolate chip cookies. "As if the punishment for buying illegal fireworks is a death sentence."
"Yeah," d'Artagnan nodded. "I never even thought of it that way."
"Well I'm determined to catch the seller so he can't cause anyone else's death," Aramis told him, as he handed Athos his éclair. "Are you with me?" he dramatically asked.
Athos nodded. "Of course."
"Porthos?" said Aramis, settling at his desk with his chocolate roll.
"Mo mef meah."
D'Artagnan chuckled at the sight of Porthos with his mouth full.
Porthos swallowed before repeating himself. "Oh heck yeah."
"D'Artagnan?" said Aramis.
"Definitely," he said. "It'll feel good to get a jerk like that off the street, especially after seeing my friend lose his father."
"If possible, I'll let you be the one to cuff him," Aramis said.
D'Artagnan smiled.
A few seconds later, Captain Treville walked in. He stopped at the sight of the pastries. "What are we celebrating?" he asked, going over to the box and taking something out.
"Our new case!" said Aramis.
Porthos held the folder up for Treville to take, and he looked through it with a brownie sticking out of his mouth. His eyebrows went higher and higher as he read.
"Something on your mind, captain?" Aramis asked.
Treville walked over and put the folder on Aramis' desk, biting the brownie and grabbing the rest out of his mouth so he could speak. "I've seen the very truck that is described here."
"Really?" said Aramis, leaning over to read. "Oh, that's irony for you."
"What?" asked Porthos.
"It's a toy company truck," said Aramis, taking a slurp through the straw of his iced coffee. "This jerk advertises toys for kids but kills their fathers. Unbelievable."
"So when do we start?" d'Artagnan said.
"Today," Aramis answered. "This jerk won't sell anymore fireworks if I can help it."
If his dramatic statement was slightly diminished by the sound of his straw running out of liquid, no one noticed.
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The first stop that they made was to the dead man's house. His widow opened the door, looking sad.
"Mrs. Carson? I'm Detective d'Herblay from the NYPD," said Aramis. "Regarding the fireworks incident."
"Incident," she echoed, her eyes filling with tears. "My foolish husband has been reduced to an 'incident'."
"I'm so sorry," Aramis said. "I didn't mean it like that…"
"I know," she said, taking a deep breath. "You're just trying to be tactful. Please come in."
They obeyed, and she led them into the living room. "Can I get you anything?" she asked. "Coffee? Water? Lemonade?"
"No thanks," Aramis answered. "But can I get any for you? I imagine you haven't felt much like eating in the past week."
The lady was surprised at the caring statement, and raised her hands to her face as the tears escaped.
Without hesitation, Aramis took her into his arms and pulled her down to sit on the couch, holding her tightly as she cried. Lemonade, he mouthed to d'Artagnan.
D'Artagnan did as he was told, going into the kitchen and finding it in the fridge. He poured a glass and brought it back, placing it within reach of Aramis.
Athos and Porthos sat down and waited.
The woman eventually calmed somewhat, abruptly realizing that she was soaking a stranger's shirt, and she pulled away with a blush of embarrassment. "Sorry," she said, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief that had mysteriously appeared in her hand.
Aramis smiled and handed her the lemonade. "No need; we're help to help. Can my friends look around and see if they can find any clues as to where the fireworks came from?"
She nodded and sipped it. "Of course, please do."
The others stood and walked off.
For the next hour, Aramis and Mrs. Carson talked. She told him everything that she knew—which wasn't much—and Aramis tried his best to comfort her.
By the time the others were done with their search and headed back to the living room, her laughter was filling the air.
D'Artagnan heard it and walked over to Porthos. "He actually got her to laugh, at a time like this! That's awesome."
Porthos nodded. "Aramis is unique."
Athos caught Aramis' eye and mimed holding a phone to his ear.
"Do you by any chance have his cellphone?" Aramis asked.
She sighed. "Yes, it's right here." She took it out of her pocket and handed it over.
"Can I take it with me?" Aramis asked. "There might be a clue in it somewhere."
She nodded. "Of course. I hope there is."
Aramis smiled and they both stood. "I'll keep in touch, Mrs. Carson. Stay strong; I won't stop until we catch the man responsible for this."
She reached out and squeezed his hand. "You're a dear. All of you are; thank you so much."
Aramis nodded and kissed her on the cheek before they left.
"That was pretty amazing," d'Artagnan remarked to him as they got into their police SUV. "You had her laughing."
"Of course I did," Aramis said. "Look at my face."
"Yeah, it sure is funny-lookin'!" Porthos exclaimed.
Aramis gave a mock-huff. "Handsome is what it is. Women find me charming. If I had the time and energy to date, they'd be knocking my door down!"
No one disputed it, because they knew that it was true.
Everyone was quiet as Athos drove, until Aramis suddenly spoke. "Whoa!"
Athos glanced at him. "What?"
Aramis was looking at the dead man's phone. "He took pics of the truck!"
"You're kiddin'!" Porthos exclaimed, leaning forward to see around the seat.
Aramis kept flipping through the pics. "He got the guy! Look, the dude's right here!"
Porthos tried to squeeze himself between the seats.
"Porthos!" Athos complained. He pulled into the next parking lot and stopped the SUV so they could all see.
Porthos had taken the phone and zoomed-in the pic to see the man better. "Doesn't look familiar." He passed it to Athos.
"I've never seen him before."
D'Artagnan waited patiently until the phone was passed to him. "He looks like the ice cream man."
Everyone swung around to look at him.
"Just 'looks like', or 'is'?" Athos asked.
D'Artagnan studied him. "It could really be him."
"What time does the ice cream truck usually pass your apartment?" Aramis asked.
"Nono," said d'Artagnan. "I mean our ice cream man; the guy who comes to the station."
"You're kiddin'!" Porthos exclaimed again.
"Nope."
Aramis took the phone back and looked at the pic again. "That's the ice cream man? Really? I've seen him a million times…"
"It's a new guy," said d'Artagnan. "I bought something from him last week and yesterday."
"What?!" said Porthos. "And you got nothin' for us?"
"I was on my way out!" d'Artagnan answered.
Aramis hit the voicemail button on the dead man's phone and they listened to the messages on speakerphone.
"Hey, it's me. We can meet today for the sale. You have my phone number."
"Bingo!" Aramis exclaimed. He looked at the call list, and sighed. "Private number. Figures."
"At least we have his face and voice," said Athos. "It's an excellent start."
"It is," Aramis agreed, before waving his hand towards the steering wheel. "Back to the station; we have some ice cream to buy!"
TBC