"Shut up shut up shut up!" Carlton shouts, and Gord the Cadaver Dog just keeps whimpering in the general vicinity of the door.
Santa Barbara Police Department's head detective closes his eyes, counts to ten, curses the cruel hand of fate that left Buzz MacNabb an injured hero and himself in charge of a half-trained cadaver dog just as cheerful and restless as his original trainer. Some law on the books prohibited police dogs being given to civilian custody, and with Carlton Lassiter decided upon as most likely to need the assistance of a cadaver dog, the chief made the decision and that was that was that.
(Carlton Lassiter is not going to admit to liking the company just a little bit: having another heartbeat around the house , canine a poor substitute for human, but at least Gord the Cadaver Dog can't decide to up and leave him, like Victoria and Marlowe and everyone else he's ever bothered to care about.)
But tonight the dog won't stop whining and Carlton tries to remember the advice Buzz handed over from his hospital nest (along with a roll of blue baggies to clean up the remnants of doggie defecation): He's a good dog, Detective, except sometimes he alerts to things that aren't exactly human cadavers, you know, like road kill or whatever, but honestly he's a good dog, just needs a run in the dog park sometimes and take him out after he eats and he'll be no trouble at all.
Dog park. That's what he's been forgetting, and that's why the dog is probably whining, Carlton thinks, and he groans, grabs up the dog's leash, and prepares to head out the door. Buzz lives on the other side of town, where the dog park is, but there's another park just a few blocks away and that's where Carlton heads, through the twilit streets of Santa Barbara.
It's curious, Carlton thinks, looking around: the park is busier than he's expecting for the hour, mostly men, mostly men giving him appraising glances. One even looks him up and down, winks, says "Lonely, stranger?" And while Carlton's first impulse is to reach for his badge, he merely shakes his head no, heads towards the fountain, Gord the Cadaver Dog frolicking and sniffing at his side.
He leans against the fountain, closes his eyes, rubs fingertips against his closed eyelids. It's peaceful; the sounds of the water a soft blue flash against the back of his eyes, the wind in the trees a flash of white: and then a bright green voice, interrupting, loudly, incredulously "Carlton Lassiter, what the hell are you doing here?"
Carlton scowls as he opens his eyes. "Spencer? I could ask you the same thing?" The other man is dressed…almost provocatively, it kills him to admit: jeans tight enough to almost look painful, loose white shirt half unbuttoned, about to slip off of one of his shoulders. It seems to fit with the look of most of the other men he's seen in the park, and then his thoughts are interrupted by a bark of laughter from the other man.
"Me? I'm doing what just about everyone else is doing here, but you're…walking the dog, and you're wearing a shirt and tie and I'd bet my life you're not cruising."
"Cruising?" Carlton echoes, and it's like all the blood has rushed to his face, he's flushed and embarrassed and whatever Spencer's done with his outfit is working, because that stupid voice in the dark hidden recesses of his mind is pointing out, quite insistently, that Shawn Spencer is suddenly very attractive.
"Cruising. This isn't a dog park after dark, Lassie." Spencer shakes his head. "I should escort you out of here, you're in over your head. Not that finding you here isn't a bit of a…" he trails off, shakes his head. "I won't tell that I saw you here and you won't tell that you saw me here, no harm no foul, and I doubt that you'd be able to lose any more respect for me."
Carlton swallows. "I have respect for you, Spencer, as difficult as it is to admit it. It's true."
Spencer laughs again, a self-depreciating sort of laugh. "You won't if I tell you that I show up here for anonymous sex with blue-eyed strangers who don't mind if I call them Lassie when I come." He shakes his head. "The walls have ears, Lassidear, and we should go somewhere more private, if you even want to continue the discussion."
To his surprise, Carlton finds himself nodding, following Shawn Spencer further into the darkening recesses of what isn't a dog park, after dark.