Deadly Vice
AR/AT - An SVM / Miami Vice Crossover
Chapter 1
Miami, Florida 1985
Thanksgiving was a holiday for family and friends. Traditionally, it was a time to give thanks for the things in your life that were going well. Families would roast the big bird and add all the trimmings and side dishes, watch parades and football or take an after meal nap, sliding into a blissful, turkey and pumpkin pie a la mode-induced coma.
It should have been just another holiday where she'd gone home to Louisiana to see her gran and her brother. Wasn't it enough that she had just broken up a huge drug operation by going undercover for three damn months?
Sookie Stackhouse was fuming that she had been called back in to work on yet another op when she had her heart and taste buds set on a drum stick. Mr. Parker's disappointed despair in "A Christmas Story," after the dogs had run off with his turkey, ran through her head. "No turkey! No turkey sandwiches! No turkey salad! No turkey gravy! Turkey Hash! Turkey a la King! Or gallons of turkey soup! Gone, ALL GONE!"
She definitely could relate.
As she pulled into the parking lot, on her way to meet the other members of the newly formed task force, she was cut off by a hot shot in a black convertible. She stomped on her brake petal and came to a screeching halt. Calming her breathing after the near collision, she watched him pull into the spot where she had planned to park. The guy practically leapt out of his car, slamming the door of his black 1972 Ferrari Daytona Spyder, and headed straight for her.
"Hey lady, watch where you're going!" exclaimed Detective James "Sonny" Crockett with an angry glare. "I just waxed my car, sweetheart. Am I going to have to write you up?"
The only asshole that Sookie had been planning on interacting with for Thanksgiving was the tail end of a turkey. She took a few deep breaths, then exhaled heavily and glared back. She got out of her car, slamming her door in kind, and glaring at him, said, "First of all, I am not your sweetheart, and quite frankly, I suggest you write one for yourself up."
"Excuse me? What did you just say to me?" asked Crockett, confrontationally, as he put his hands in his pockets, moving his head toward her.
Man, this chick is askin' for trouble. Who does she think she is?
"You heard me, mister," she spouted back, his thoughts not doing anything to cool her down. "Failure to signal. Reckless endangerment. Being a jackass. Take your pick!"
As she spoke, she couldn't help but notice that he was rather easy on the eyes even with all the beard stubble. She was nothing if not observative. His healthy tan set off his white Italian blazer, skin tight, coral T-shirt, and white linen slacks. She was astounded that he wasn't wearing any socks with his pull-on loafers.
Do people here do that? she wondered. I bet it makes his shoes stink.
Sonny removed his Ray-Bans, as he moved in front of her, and tucked one side piece in the neck of his T-shirt so that the folded glasses hung onto the front. He slowly looked at her from head to toe, noting that the sassy, little lady in question, was young and hadn't really taken much care of her appearance by Miami standards. Her blonde hair was piled on top of her head and the butt ugly, black glasses she was wearing were as effective a repellent to him as Raid was for bugs.
Not much to look at. Definitely not a beauty queen. Probably couldn't get a date from any of the jerk offs in Metro Dade. I wonder what she's doing here on a holiday and where she's from. That accent is certainly a little farther west of here.
He is just plain rude! she thought.
"You don't want to mess with me today, lady. I just got called into work, and it's my day off. So don't bust my chops! Just watch it next time."
What she wanted to do was cuff him and haul his ass into the station, but she forced herself to calm down by closing her eyes and trying to block out his thoughts.
Is she not playing with a full deck? Is she going to pass out on me here? What the hell is she doing?
When his thoughts were finally blocked, Sookie felt him grab her arm. Instinct and training took over. She opened her eyes, unlocked his hold on her with a sweep of her other arm, and had him face down on the hood of her car with his arm bent up toward his neckline, at an uncomfortable angle, as she cuffed him.
He couldn't have been more surprised if she had shot him. "What the hell? I'm a cop, lady. You can't do this."
She replied as she hauled him up and started heading toward the building with him in tow. "Well, it appears I can. By the way, you have the right to remain silent."
"You have got to be shitting me. You're arrestin' me?" he asked, incredulously.
She just smiled back and said, "That's right, sweetheart."
** A short time later **
"I'm telling you, Switek. She is a certifiable whack job! She actually slapped cuffs on me," he said, rubbing his wrists, as laughter filled the room. "It was fuckin' humiliating. You should have seen the desk sergeant just laughing his ass off. I will never hear the end of this. Thank God Rico is in New York until after the holidays, or I'd be hearing about it from him, too."
"Aw, Sonny. You let a little ol' girl like that get the best of you? You poor thing," teased Gina Calabrese, placing her hand on Sonny's unshaven chin. Though they were no longer involved, Gina and Sonny had been an item for a while until he rolled over in bed and called out his ex-wife's name as he snuggled into her.
"I'd have given anything to have had eyes on you out there, Sonny. Heh, heh, heh. Blackmail footage!" said Stan Switek, chuckling loudly as he rubbed his hands together.
"Don't bust my balls, Switek. I've got plenty on you. Just who in this room not only impersonates the King, but swears up and down that he spotted him in town the other night?"
"Hey, I did see him. I told you that I just woke up around midnight, where I'd dozed off in the bug mobile, saw him running after his cat, and calling, 'Here kitty, kitty.' I swear it on a stack of bibles. It was him. If there is one thing I know, it is the King. When I looked away for a minute to grab my surveillance camera and then looked back up, he was gone. Don't know how he could've moved so fast."
"See," said Crockett with a smile, as Trudy and Gina laughed.
The door opened, and Lieutenant Martin Castillo, wearing his usual stoic scowl, black suit, white shirt and black tie, entered the room carrying a stack of case files, and closed the door behind him.
"Hey, Lieutenant!" Crockett called out. "Why did you call us all in on Thanksgiving? Elvis and I were just about to eat a mess of fish. You know he gets cranky and starts pulling on his chain when his dinner is late."
"What, Sonny, no turkey? It's Thanksgiving! Didn't anyone invite you for dinner?" teased Trudy Joplin. Trudy was of African-American descent and had been Gina's partner for a number of years.
"If you are all finished, we have a case that just might be bigger than anything we've come across before," Castillo stated, setting down the load of files on the conference table and looking at each of his subordinates as he straightened his tie. "I'm creating a special interagency task force on this one. Since we are short-staffed, I've requested that two additional detectives be allocated to this task force. We have a Detective Stackhouse on loan from the undercover drug task force. She's risen fast in the ranks and is an excellent undercover operative. I'm told that she has an uncanny ability of getting into people's heads and seeing what makes them tick. She's been involved in a number of major busts. The other, Detective Bellefleur, just made his shield and will be partnering with Switek. Detective Stackhouse will be working with Crockett."
"What! You want me to partner with some chick? I'd rather work with Gina. At least I know her. Can't she work with Trudy?" asked Crockett.
The lieutenant just stared down Crockett until Crockett finally said resignedly, "All right, I'll do it. It doesn't mean I have to like it." He ran his hand through his hair—which fell perfectly back into place—and then continued, "What are we looking at, Lieutenant?"
"Prostitution, drug trafficking, money laundering, and we suspect that the number of unexplained disappearances of certain drug cartel members that we've been seeing in South Dade are a result of the same operation."
"Do we have any leads?" asked Switek.
"We have an informant. She's a prostitute who works out of..."
"Are you talking about Ginger? The one we busted yesterday? She was pretty strung out when we brought her in," interrupted Gina. "She was babbling all kinds of crazy things."
"We are giving some of those 'crazy things' merit. We're putting her under protective custody. If this is as big as I think it is, her life is in danger. Gina, Trudy, you are on protective detail tonight. I want you to escort her to the safe house. Switek, you and Bellefleur will set up surveillance outside the club."
"Okay, boss. You got it," said Switek.
There was a knock on the door, and Castillo walked to the door and opened it, revealing two people. As they entered the room, Castillo said, "Everyone. I'd like you to meet our other two task force members, Detectives Bellefleur and Stackhouse."
Sonny had opened one of the case files while all this took place, letting the conversation dissolve into background buzz, but went still when he heard, "Thank you, Lieutenant. I'm happy to be here."
Sonny's head shot up, and his mouth fell open. It was the blonde from the parking lot. "Oh no. No way! No! Not her!" he exclaimed pushing his chair back and standing up.
She said, "Shoot!" Then she plastered a smile on her face, and walking forward, she stuck her hand out to Sonny and said, "Sonny Crockett, right? I'm Sookie Stackhouse. Nice to meet you. Officially, that is."
Sonny ignored it and glared at her. Castillo kept Sonny from saying anything further by saying, "Stackhouse, you and Crockett will be going to the club tonight posing as a couple. I want you to check it out. Get the feel of the place. The owner fancies himself a ladies' man, so do what you can to attract his attention, Stackhouse. Mingle. Watch. Observe."
There ain't no fuckin' way I am going to work with her.
"The place is called Club Thor. It opens at dusk. The owner is one Eric Northman. Not a lot is known about Northman. He didn't even exist on paper before moving here and opening the club. I've done some preliminary work and found out that he has an offshore account in the Caymans, filtering through several corporations. The bulk of the money is the account for a subsidiary corporation called Valhalla, Inc. He also has money in Switzerland. He is rich, connected, and from all accounts, he is utterly ruthless."
"A word, Lieutenant," said Sonny as he walked over to Castillo. "Just how is she going to blend into a hip club. Look at her. She looks like someone's grandmother with that bun. Look at the way she's dressed and those glasses, for God's sake."
Stackhouse made a little noise, turned as if she were going to leave, and simply took off her jacket, setting it on the chair, along with her glasses, keeping her back to the others gathered in the room. She unbuttoned her blouse enough to show her push-up bra, then reached up to adjust her hair. She pulled the sticks out and leaned forward, shaking it out as it fell down. Then running her fingers through her locks, she came back up, and she was all hair. Ready, she turned slowly around so that the men in the room would get the full effect of her transformation. She gave them a sultry look, raised her leg up until it rested on a chair, and ran her fingers along her leg from the ankle upward.
Fuck! Stackhouse, heh, heh. I'd like to stand under her awning and admire the view. She must be at least a D cup.
Jesus H. Christ, will you look at that!
Well, I'll be damned! Look what was hiding under that bun and jacket all along.
Shit! I'll never get another chance with Sonny with her around.
Mmmm... hmmmm. Poor Gina.
She winced at all the thoughts, frowning a little when she didn't get a full fix on the lieutenant's, then said, raising her eyebrow, "You were saying?"
"I guess I'm going to have to eat my words," said Sonny, swallowing hard. He walked across the room, positioned himself directly in front of her, and continued, "I'll work with you on three conditions. One, no more kung fu moves. Two, leave your cuffs in your purse. Three, I'm driving. Got that, sweetheart?"
"Okay, I'll agree to that, but I have a condition of my own," she said.
"What's that?" he asked.
"Stop calling me sweetheart, or I'll forget about conditions one and two."
"Heh, heh," he chuckled, in full womanizing mode, gave her a shit-eating grin, and continued. "We're going to get along just fine, blondie."
** tbc **
A/N: Yes, I did go here. *hides head in shame* I've been listening to my "Definitely Miami (Vice)" playlist too much, and it inspired a dream that had me waking up laughing. So, here is a little holiday story inspired by a silly dream that will hopefully give you a laugh or two. For those of you who were a bit young for Miami Vice, there are episodes of the show available on Hulu. It was a groundbreaking show from the mid-80s. One of the first shows to have a stereo soundtrack, it featured music of the day by the artists who recorded them. If you need musical inspiration, visit YouTube. Enjoy!
