DISCLAIMER: "CSI: CRIME SCENE INVESTIGATION" and other related entities are owned, (TM) and (c) by ANTHONY E. ZUIKER, JERRY BRUCKHEIMER Television, CBS Worldwide Inc., Alliance Atlantis Corporation, CSI Productions and CBS Productions, All Rights Reserved. This is a purely an outlet of creative writing inspired by a superb TV series and out of respect for my favorite actor, Paul Guilfoyle.
A/N: Brass gets to be off on Halloween for a change but is he prepared for the tricks or treats that await him? This is a funny and fluffy outing dedicated to Mr. Guilfoyle, as I see no other actor qualified to play Jim Brass as he does, in my ever try to be humble opinion.
Acknowledgements: "What if it All Goes Right" sung by Melissa Lawson, written by Tania Hancheroff, Tammy Hyler, and Shaye Smith.
Episode Influences: None.
Rated: K
"Vampires and Witches and Ghosts, Oh My!
October 30th Morning
Brass' shift was finished. He'd had to drive to the crime scene with an unmarked unit when he'd found his Dodge Charger had a flat at the LVPD. Great way to start work he'd grumbled but he would simply change the right rear tire when he got back. At least it hadn't been a blow-out flying down the I-15 so he was thankful for that. Iris had been the CSI Grissom assigned to the same case on East Tropicana and had offered to drive him back and he'd accepted. They were in route now in her Bronco.
"Weird case tonight," Brass commented.
"Considering it's almost Halloween, yes," Iris agreed.
"I mean it's not everyday you hear about a guy wearing only a sheet with a .38 try to rob The Gun Store at closing. Like the shift manager wouldn't be packing!" Jim exclaimed.
"Full moon effect I'm sure but definitely not a friendly ghost," Iris concurred with a dry chuckle.
"There you go," Brass grinned. "No way to ID the spook though since all he had was the gun and no sign of a car in the immediate vicinity."
"I'll get a set of prints at the morgue and see if we get lucky if he's a repeat customer," Iris said looking sideways at him.
The other plus to Brass in this situation was he got a chance to talk with Iris one-on-one. They generally were around one another during working a case, bumping into each other at the lab, or on the occasions where the team went to eat after the shift was over. What had changed since her joining Grissom's CSI team were more get-togethers, like bowling or a cookout, where Brass was always welcome to be a part of, but he'd come to like Iris' company, especially her dry wit and sense of humor.
The parking spot next to Brass' car was vacant and Iris pulled in to take it.
"There you go, sir, Iris' taxi is always at your service," Iris said as they got out and she added the flair of a slight bow.
"Thanks…I don't have a tip though," Brass said.
"I'll collect it later," Iris smiled cryptically with a wink. "I'm headed in to submit the evidence and then home so see you later."
"Yeah, later," Jim said, glancing back at the flat tire that would have to wait changing while he headed inside for his office to start his report on the case he and Iris were now working.
It was just before dawn now and Brass had gotten the initial part of his report started. He'd stopped in the crime lab to see where Iris was with things. She'd nicknamed their robber "Casper" and was working on getting a set of prints from the body laid out on a morgue gurney and otherwise covered with a white sheet again except for the exposed forearms and hands.
Using the ink roller, she carefully inked the pad of each finger and set the white paper beneath to roll the thumb and four fingers against the paper to make a clean and legible set of prints for submission into the AFIS for identification of the unknown robber. Her attention was totally focused.
Jim observed this and couldn't resist, walked quietly up behind her, then jokingly said into her ear, "BOO!"
Poor Iris was so startled the ink roller went flying and Jim nearly ended up with a handprint from the dead man on the sleeve of his suit jacket. Her eyes went wide as she found him to be the source of her adrenalin rush.
"Thanks a lot, Jim, now I gotta start all over again let alone get a change in undies," she fumed at him and then looked at the smeared streaks where neat fingerprints should have been.
Brass was laughing so hard it took him several moments to get his breath back.
Doc Robbins was happening by and saw the frustrated CSI shaking her head at Jim. "What mischief is this?"
"Jim here is getting his Halloween jollies early and scared the heebie jeebies out of me," Iris complained with a frown at Brass.
"You hardly ever come down here, Jim, given the fact bodies give you the willies," Doc said dryly.
"You got me dead to rights there, Doc," Brass said straight-faced, eliciting a groan from Iris and rolled eyes from Doc Robbins.
"Jim, with your permission, may I resume trying to get this poor schmuck's prints?" Iris asked tartly.
"He's all yours. Let me know if you get lucky with AFIS," Jim said drolly.
"Yeah, me getting lucky, like that's gonna happen anytime soon," Iris muttered with her back to him but he'd heard her and cocked an eyebrow her way with an astonished expression.
Doc Robbins saw Jim's curious look but said nothing since he didn't overhear her comment. He raised his cane in a salute of farewell to Brass before he headed toward his office.
Jim left the morgue in silence but not without a backward look or two at the figure resolutely bent over the body to redo the finger prints.
* * * * *
Iris was back in the crime lab with a decent set of fingerprints she'd gotten from "Casper." She found herself hoping that Brass didn't think she was truly peeved at him because she wasn't easy to sneak up on. With a wry grin, she admitted that he'd done a good job not only at doing that but also giving her an old-fashioned scared out of her britches feeling. After submitting the fingerprints for scanning into the AFIS, she sat back and decided to wait a bit to see if there was a hit. Mandy Webster, the lab fingerprint tech, saw Iris and stopped by.
"Hey, Iris, long night?"
"Eh, yes and no. My outcall was to a 419 robbery suspect who tried to hold up a gun shop over on Tropicana. Get this, the fella's wearing nothing but a sheet and comes in to hold up the place. He's brandishing a gun and demanding money, then points his .38 at the manager. The manager thinks shoot first ask questions later so kablammo and vaya con Dios. Brass is working up mug shots while I do AFIS patrol so maybe we'll meet somewhere in the middle," Iris said as she watched the computer monitor continuing to scan prints on file.
"You know this could take a while so tell you what if it gets a hit I can call you," Mandy suggested.
"Wow, would you? That'd be great because I am tapped," Iris considered while she stifled a yawn.
"Sure, glad to…" Mandy began to say when the flashing on the monitor caught their eye.
Iris gave Mandy a slow smile as she said, "Bingo, jackpot, paydirt!"
"I'd say lady luck is smiling on you because I've seen that thing run for hours before getting a match," Mandy observed.
* * * * *
Jim wanted to take a break from the laptop, sipping at coffee that was more like thick tar and just as bitter. He was nearly finished with his initial report and reviewing it, taking a moment to rub at tired eyes.
"Jim?"
Brass opened his weary eyes to spy Iris standing in the doorway with a steaming cup held in each hand and a manila folder under one arm. He greeted her with a broad grin. "Look what the angels have brought!"
Iris' eyes dropped shyly for a moment before she walked on in and set the cups on his desk along with the folder. "I think you take it with a creamer and two sugars and it's out of a fresh pot. I opted for hot chocolate myself. By the way, we scored on the suspect's prints."
"You're spoiling me, Iris! Who has Casper turned out to be?" Brass asked as he blew at the steaming liquid and slowly took a sip. "Ahhh, that hits the spot."
"His name is Zachariah Fowler. He's a local who's got minors on his record. Last known address was off the far end of the strip. He has a history of bipolar disorder and, typically, his scrapes with the LVPD have been when he went off his meds. As long as he was on them he could keep a job and a place to live, but once off the pills and his manic phase hit he loses the job and the place to stay. His doctor will have his office send over the appropriate documentation to affirm this later this morning. Doc Robbins will send off the appropriate blood work to confirm he was off his meds. To top things off, the gun wasn't registered to him and has a filed off serial number but I'm going to redo the acid etch and hope to recover it," Iris summarized as Brass scanned the contents of the folder with a confirming nod.
"His being a minor leaguer is probably why he didn't stand out to me straight off. Looks like we won't have to do very much more to close this case out then between us," Jim sighed gratefully. "As it is, I get to go out now and change a flat on my car."
"Do you need any help?" Iris asked as he handed her the file back.
"You can hang out and give me moral support," Brass said while he shut his laptop down and got up to go retrieve his jacket from the closet.
"It should be pretty close to sunup now but sure I'll stick around. I can drop the file off on our way out," Iris said as they left his office.
* * * *
Nick had run into Iris in the locker area as his own part of the shift was ending. He'd been sent to a dumpster where a 419 had been found when a trash truck had gone to empty it. "Iris, you should've seen it, the vic was dressed up like Tinker Bell but in a more sleazy fashion. When the trash truck driver gets the hydraulic lifts engaged and the dumpster is raising up over his cab, out flies the "fairy" and lands splat on his windshield! Scared the mess outta him for sure!"
"Sounds bizarre like the case I'm working up with Jim. The guy was only wearing a sheet and tried to rob a gun store. Needless to say he's now truly a ghost I suppose if I believed in such," Iris said wryly.
"It's supposed to be a full moon tomorrow night and with it being Halloween, I guess that makes it all the more appropriate. Are you going to the lab party?" Nick asked with a wide grin.
"You know I've got tomorrow night off but I'm thinking I'll just lay low at home and watch scary movies and hand out treats to the neighbor kids. I'm considering making my world-famous peanut M&M popcorn balls," Iris replied while they walked down the hall toward the parking lot.
"I'm going to the party as Dracula and hoping Wendy lets me take a bite or maybe the new girl working in audiovisual because Archie says it'd be worth it," Nick attempted a Bela Lugosi accent but his Texas twang overrode it.
"My Nickers is never lacking for female companionship," Iris laughed. "Perhaps you should go as Frank-N-Furter from Rocky Horror. I can so see you in stiletto heels and fishnet stockings and those pouting lips in ruby-red lipstick."
"Uh, no," Nick declared with an emphatic shake of his head.
"Darn, I'd just about pay to see that," Iris said with an affectionate poke in his ribs.
They came out by Brass' car which he had just finished jacking up. His shirt sleeves were rolled up and he was starting to remove the lug nuts from the tire and the struggle was causing him to let choice word after choice word fly. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and rolled profusely down his cheeks.
"You son of a…," Jim growled and went to wipe the sweat away when he felt a moistened towlette placed in his hand. He looked up at Iris who gave him a sympathetic smile as he mopped his forehead dry. "I picked a bad day to wear a white dress shirt."
"You need help, Brass man?" Nick offered.
"Naw, Stokes, I got it under control, besides Iris can taxi me if needed, but thanks anyway," Jim replied.
"Okay, have a good three-day, see you Monday," Nick drawled before he left them.
"You got three days off? How'd you manage that you lucky so-and-so?" Iris inquired with a disapproving look that Brass could tell was for show. "You should consider taking your shirt off before you mess it up changing the tire."
Jim gave her a "why didn't I think of that" look before unbuttoning his shirt and handing it to her. He wore a sleeveless muscle T-shirt underneath and Iris noted his St. Michael's medallion worn on a sterling silver chain. The patron saint of police officers she remembered. "Rank has its privileges…actually, I was due and no one else had requested it."
Iris nodded before neatly folding his shirt and putting it in the front seat of the Dodge Charger. She sat down on the curb beside him as he wrestled with the tire and pulled it off to let it fall over with a loud thud. She then stood up briefly to go roll the spare around to him. He looked grateful for the help.
"You going to the lab Halloween party tomorrow night?" she asked him while she pulled at some blades of grass growing up between the curb and sidewalk.
"Nope, no plans whatsoever and parties aren't my deal anyway, so you going?" Brass inquired as she sequentially handed him lug nuts as he put the spare tire on.
"Just hanging out at home and putting up Halloween decorations before the little trick or treaters come calling," Iris answered when he took the last nut and tightened it in place with the lug wrench.
"Sounds fun. There that should hold me until I can get the car to Discount Tire," Brass concluded as he took the car off the jack and put the flat tire and jack in the trunk. Iris then produced more of the moistened towlettes to let him clean up while she retrieved his shirt.
"Thanks, Iris, you're a big help," Jim smiled at her while he put his shirt back on.
"See you 'round," Iris said and turned to get in her Bronco.
Jim waved as he got in and started his car up not knowing what was about to result from such a simple everyday action.
* * * * *
Iris had just put her backpack purse in the passenger seat, gave Jim a final wave, got ready to start her Bronco when she heard Brass start up his car first only to hear a high-pitched banshee shriek come from under the hood of the Dodge Charger. She saw Brass immediately cut the engine and get out of his car looking as pale as…
"Jim, you look white as a ghost!" Iris cried as she hopped out of the Bronco and ran to his side.
They both now heard the frantic mewing and stared at each other.
"Sounds like you picked up a stowaway," Iris observed.
"I'm half scared to open the hood. There could be pureed cat under there!" Jim exclaimed anxiously.
"Well, it can't stay under there. We need to see if it's okay or not. I've got a towel and box in the Bronco. Can you help me?" Iris asked as she headed to get what she needed.
"Yeah, sure," Jim answered as he took his shirt off yet again.
Two patrol officers on motorcycles stopped to whistle and yell "take it off" suggestively at Brass who rolled his eyes and placed on his right hand in the elbow crook of his left arm. He then raised his left arm with fist clenched in a gracefully fluid motion aimed at the patrolmen. The men laughed uproariously at Brass' action before saluting him and leaving.
He found Iris standing expectantly with the box and towel and also a blanket as she'd observed his response to the motorcycle officers.
"Very classy move, Jim," she murmured with a chuckle as she went by him and went to spread the blanket on the ground. She started to skinny underneath the car when Brass' arm pinned her as he lay down beside her. He had his flashlight in the other hand.
"Let's do this smart, okay? The cat could be hurt and hard to get to let alone try to handle if it's in pain," Jim told her bluntly.
"You shine the light and I'll do the rest. I used to have cats as pets," Iris retorted matter-of-factly.
"Not me. Closest I had to pets were aquarium fish," Jim said while he turned on the flashlight as they peered up through the engine compartment to home in on the location of the piteous meows which seemed to be coming from every direction.
"Shine your light there, Jim, over a little to the right," Iris directed as the flashlight's beam illuminated fur.
"Yup, the rascal's up in the air conditioner system," Brass grunted as he took the towel to try and reach for their foot-footed fugitive.
"Hang on, Bwana Brass, if I may," Iris took the towel back and made soothing sounds. "Here kitty, kitty…here puss, puss, puss."
Iris reached up carefully with the towel, thankful that the engine was still cold, but their quarry had other plans as it slipped from her attempt to seize it and landed on Brass' chest as he and his prisoner locked eyes. Iris turned to follow and covered it with the towel, Brass yelping in discomfort as claws penetrated his T-shirt. Her head collided with his to add insult to injury as they both said "ouch" in unison, but their prey was held secure in the thick terry material of the towel.
They scooted out from under the car simultaneously and sat up slowly as one. Iris then gingerly pulled their captive's paws from Jim's T-shirt carefully. She then mummy-wrapped their prisoner more securely in the towel, then turned it for Jim to see.
Peering back at them defiantly with ice-blue eyes was a coal-black kitten that was hissing and spitting with a batting forepaw that had slipped out of the towel in a desperate try to escape before it began to meow loudly in protest at being held against its will. Jim rubbed at his chest absentmindedly. "Little cat's got a set of lungs, don't it?"
"Did you get scratched?" Iris asked out of concern, using her free hand to pull Jim's T-shirt open to see if the skin was broken. Her fingertips were gentle as she examined his chest closely and they explored the hairy surface she found to be ticklish.
"I don't think so. I just barely felt the claws going in," Jim answered while he watched her continue to check him over.
"Just to be sure as soon as we have our little fugitive here secure, I'm cleansing with hydrogen peroxide and putting some antibiotic ointment on," Iris cautioned with a slight frown. "I've got a first aid kit in my Bronco."
"Yes, ma'am," Jim said with a mock tone of meekness.
"You know I used to be a nurse so no nonsense, buster," Iris shot back.
She carefully placed the kitten into the box and secured the top, then opened the back of her Bronco and retrieved a small first-aid kit. Brass was leaning back against his car when she returned.
"Take off your shirt," she requested.
"Anything else you want to doctor while you're at it?" he asked with a wink.
"North or south of the belt buckle?" she countered as that shut him up for the moment. Using a gauze pad, she applied hydrogen peroxide to where the kitten's claws could have made contact with the skin followed by a thin layer of triple antibiotic ointment.
"Sorry, my chest hair's being a nuisance," Jim said with a thin smile.
"Not at all, I find it an attractive feature in a man," Iris replied nonplussed which surprised Jim somewhat because she rarely if ever mentioned dating or what she found appealing in the masculine gender. He'd wondered for a while after she came to Grissom's team what her preference might be merely out of general curiosity but Nick had assured him privately she was a "straight arrow."
"Thanks for the TLC," Jim said sincerely. "So what happens with my feline visitor now?"
"The kitten's been in the box for a few minutes now so hopefully it's calmed down. Let's interrogate our prisoner," Iris replied crisply as she brought the box out of the Bronco to set carefully on the ground. The kitten was very vocal now with frequent, loud low-pitched meows.
She reached inside and grasped the kitten by the scruff of the neck with one hand, then gave Jim the towel with the other if they needed to wrap the kitten up again. They both sat on the tailgate of the Bronco as Iris inspected Jim's stowaway.
"I thought so, Jim. This is a female domestic shorthair kitten about six to eight weeks old. She's not skinny and seems in good health. She's calmed down a lot and by letting us pet her we know she's been around people and might have been dumped nearby the station or perhaps even where you live. Your little miss has definite Siamese in her family background. Here, you can tell by the kink in her tail, her low-pitched vocalizations when meowing, and her eyes are a stunning blue but very almond-shaped," Iris surmised.
Jim had his own questions: "What's a domestic shorthair cat? Why would someone dump a sweet little cat like this? How do you know about Siamese? I'm not a cat person but she's letting me hold her and that's the loudest purr. That means she likes me, right?"
Iris found herself smiling at Jim while he held the kitten in one arm and stroked it constantly with the other hand. The kitten's purring sounded like a small outboard motor. She then answered Jim's queries. "A domestic shorthair is a mixed-breed cat, like a dog is a mutt. You might be a cat person and not even know it. This little girl seems quite taken with you. That's part of the Siamese trait in that they're very social and more dependent on their people, affectionate and intelligent, and tend to bond particularly with one person. I know because I had a Siamese cat when I was a kid. But we live in a throwaway society and if you don't want the responsibility just toss it"
"Um, like I said I'm not a cat person and not looking to be a cat owner," Brass declared as he watched the kitten rub its head delightedly under his hand for him to continue petting it. "I'd like to know how she ends up though."
"I'll take her to my vet at Petsmart. It's a little early but I've got his cell number and I think I can call in a favor. She'll get vaccinated and a thorough checkup, then I'll look into finding her an emergency foster home. She won't be adopted out right now, though," Iris told him.
"How come?" Jim asked, amused that the kitten protested now if he stopped petting her with a sharp meow.
"Black cats or kittens are never adopted out just before or right at Halloween. There are those out there who supposedly use them in bizarre rituals as well as those who just hate cats, period. That's why local shelters and rescue groups suspend availability of them until afterwards," Iris answered, reaching over the scratch the kitten behind the ears.
"Well, I'd appreciate you letting me know things work out," Jim said before he gave the kitten to Iris.
She put the kitten in the box and secured the top as sorrowful meows began to emanate from within. Jim took the opportunity to put his shirt back on. Iris came back him and took another look at his chest, insisting, "I want you to call me if you see any redness or streaking."
"I like the idea of having my personal nurse but I'll let you know," Jim promised with a grin.
"You better but I do make house calls," Iris merely smirked at him as she climbed into the Bronco and he into his Dodge Charger.
* * * * *
Later that afternoon, Jim had heard nothing from Iris and to say "curiosity killed the cat" was putting it mildly as he truly wondered how their little prisoner was doing. He was at home in the backyard relaxing and decided to call her. After several rings, he feared it was going to go to voicemail when she finally answered.
"Hey, Jim," she sounded frazzled to him.
"You okay? How's the kitten doing?" Brass asked, stretching lazily in his lounge chair.
"No, Little Miss has been a handful to be truthful," Iris answered as Jim heard barking in the background and then a shrill yelp.
"Who's Little Miss?" Jim queried.
"Well, she needed some kind of name so that came to mind. It's been a booger of a day. She got a clean bill of health from the vet. However, I had absolutely no luck trying to find her a place with an animal clinic or rescue group with a foster home. Everyone's full right now. So I figured I'd just bring her home here to stay with me and the dogs," Iris informed him.
"And how's that going over?" Jim wondered.
"The dogs are fine with her but the feeling isn't mutual. She's bit Cyrano on the ear and just nailed Durante on the nose. You heard him yelp. I can only imagine she had a very negative canine encounter so all dogs are the enemy. I've tried keeping her in a room alone but she won't have that and cries continuously and keeping her in the carrier freaks her out. We won't discuss her flea bath. I don't know what else to do," Iris sighed and Jim could hear she was at her wits end.
"I guess I could take her for a few days," Jim offered.
"Gosh, Jim, could you? I mean I've bought everything needed to take care of her with. By Monday we can regroup and get her placed in a foster home I'm sure," Iris was relieved.
"Sure, you want me to come there?" Brass queried.
"Let me bring her. We'll be there in thirty minutes. Can I get directions?" Iris requested.
After giving her directions and ending the call, Jim now wondered what he was getting himself into but he and Iris would see this unusual situation through he decided.
* * * * *
Thirty minutes later on the button, Iris pulled into Jim's driveway. She'd never been to his home before and found she liked the look of this older neighborhood. The homes were kept up and an older woman who must be Jim's neighbor was outside watering her flowers. Iris turned off the engine and reached over to grab Little Miss' carrier in one hand. She then reached behind her seat for a large canvas duffle bag. Fully loaded now with the kitten vocally protesting being in the carrier, she got out of the Bronco to head to Jim's front door. She paused a moment as she noticed the elderly woman peering curiously at her over her eyeglasses.
"Hello, I'm Iris King, a friend of Jim's," Iris introduced herself as she walked over the older woman with an outstretched hand.
"A friend?" the woman asked coolly in a British accent and kept her gardening gloves on.
"Yes, ma'am, we work together at the LVPD," Iris said pleasantly.
"James does not have women coming to his home at all hours," the elderly woman sniffed.
"I imagine not. He's actually cat sitting for me," Iris explained as she held up the cat carrier.
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to appear unfriendly, it's just that James has not had a lady friend to call on him. My name is Felicity Chambers," the older woman relented with a thin smile and extended her hand in welcome.
"Pleasure to meet you," Iris said, "I better get going as my charge here is fussy."
"I hope to see you again," Felicity said with a cryptic air.
Iris nodded but had to wonder about the exchange that had just taken place before she knocked on the front door. Jim answered the door promptly. He quickly took the duffle bag from her as he admonished, "Iris, you should've let me get that! Where do we set up?"
Leaving Little Miss in the cat carrier in spite of her loud protests, Jim started to remove the articles from the duffle bag before Iris placed a hand on his arm. He looked at her curiously until she asked. "It's my first time to your place, so don't I get the grand tour?"
"Oh, holy crap, sure, but it's a 5-second tour at best," Jim said as she followed him.
To Iris it was a charmingly traditional older three-bedroom, two-bathroom, two-car garage but the best to her was in the backyard where Jim had a covered patio, swimming pool, and a koi pond nestled in one corner. "Jim, it's breathtaking out here. I love the koi pond and a pool you can swim in anytime you want. This beats the HOA townhome scene all to heck."
Brass was eating it all up. He rarely if ever had anyone from work to his home. He was something of a loner in that respect and liked his privacy. "Well, I want this be where I can relax and put work in the rear view. I try my best not to take it home with me anymore. It cost me in the past." His expression was pained and Iris opted only to listen and nod silently.
Shrill meows were heard from inside as Little Miss' protests reached a crescendo. Iris and Jim looked at each other in amusement before heading back inside.
Jim followed Iris' instructions to the letter. Kitten food and fresh water were set up in the covered patio and the screen door checked and securely shut. The kitty litter box was put in the guest bathroom. Different play toys were put on the floor for the kitten to entertain herself with. At last, Jim brought her out of the carrier and Iris placed a collar with her ID and rabies vaccination tags that jingled as Little Miss tried in vain to get it off. Brass and Iris found themselves laughing at her fruitless efforts.
The kitten glared at them balefully before she sprinted off, but the jingling tags would keep Jim apprised of her whereabouts. They could tell the kitten was exploring her new surroundings as the tinkling sound would be near and then further away as she expanded her search range.
Jim had Iris take a seat on his couch while he got some coffee brewing. She relaxed with eyes closed as she heard him in the kitchen and liking the cozy feeling his home elicited in her. It made her think she was at home herself in a strange way.
"Hey, don't fall asleep on me!" Jim protested as her eyes flew open and she looked sheepishly at him. He handed her a coffee mug with creamer and sugar on the side.
"Thanks, you're the consummate host," she chuckled before taking a small sip of coffee. "This tastes heavenly!"
Jim sat beside her with his own coffee and for several moments they enjoyed it in companionable silence. Little Miss was emboldened herself and Jim was surprised to see the kitten come bounding across the floor to take a flying leap onto the couch. The kitten curled herself up beside Jim and yawned before settling herself in and beginning to purr when Brass tickled her under the chin.
"I met your neighbor, Felicity, on my way in. I think she was checking me out. She said that James doesn't have lady friends call on him," Iris said casually between sips of coffee.
"Um, she's been my neighbor since I moved here years ago. She's a widow in her mid-eighties and always tells me I should've been born when she was. She believes we're lost soul mates, you know ships passing in the night," Jim laughed. "I suppose that's why she's always calling me James but she means well and has good intentions."
"Well, I hoped I passed her scrutiny," Iris said. "Thanks for the coffee, I better head on out. Little Miss looks calm and cozy. I've got a lot to do to get ready for the trick or treaters, but I noticed you don't have any decorations up."
"No, I'm generally not home on Halloween. I guess I'll have to get candy tomorrow for the little munchkins," Brass considered.
Jim saw Iris' chin do a double sideways move. "Jim, I just had a scathingly brilliant thought."
Brass' eyebrow shot up as he asked guardedly, "Which is?"
"Let's join forces for Halloween since we're both off. I could come over tomorrow and we can decorate and dress up and hang out together…," Iris had started off in animated fashion and then looked troubled.
"What's wrong?" Brass asked.
"I jumped the gun, no pun intended, making assumptions about doing something together," Iris replied quietly.
"Well, I happen to think it's a great idea and a fun way to spend the day away from work. I'm game if you are so what's the strategy?" Jim queried with a reassuring smile.
Iris nodded in relief. "Leave it all to me. I'll be over here tomorrow morning around ten if that's okay."
Jim walked her to the door. "I'm in and ten o'clock sounds good. See you then."
As Iris headed back to the Bronco, she saw Felicity watching her leave. She raised a hand in farewell before pulling out of the driveway. Felicity continued her unwavering stare as the Bronco went down the street.