The standard disclaimer applies: All characters are property of Dick Wolf and NBC Universal. Not mine, not making money.
"Awww!"
The adolescent squeal distracted Ben from his beloved Mets. Which was actually a blessing in disguise – they were down by five runs in the middle of the ninth. The game was as good as over, and he preferred to be spared the agony of seeing his team go down in defeat. So he switched off the TV, curious to know what his daughter was cooing about.
Emily was his pride and joy, the product of a tumultuous marriage that had ended when she was only seven. Tall and slender like he, the girl was as smart as she was pretty. She lived with her mother, but stayed with Ben on alternate weekends. On this Saturday afternoon, she sat in a leather chair in his living room, reading the newspaper.
"What is it?" Ben asked. Emily passed him the article, tossing back her long blonde hair.
It was about a domestic dispute that ended in murder, which was all too common. But what made the case unique was that both victim and accused were "animal collectors" – they took in dozens of cats without regard to upkeep or their own living conditions. It was reportedly one of the worst neglect cases that the local Humane Society had ever seen. The article publicized the surviving cats' plight, and while Ben was not mentioned by name, he knew the story very well.
"I've been assigned that case," he said without thinking.
Emily's face lit up with concern. "What's going to happen to the kittens, Dad?" she exclaimed.
"I'm not sure – I assume the Humane Society is trying to adopt them out. If homes can't be found for all the cats, I suppose that some of them will have to be euthanized."
"But you can't let them die!"
"Pumpkin – " Ben began, using his daughter's pet name. Then he paused briefly. "My job is to prosecute a murder. I have no control over what happens to those cats."
Emily looked like she wanted to ask him something, but wasn't sure if she should. Ben anticipated her question, trying to think of a way to let her down without sounding too harsh.
"Dad, can we – "
"I'm sorry, but the answer is no. You're only here part of the time, and I have a busy work schedule – how could we look after a cat?"
"Just got notice from Schell," Paul said, handing Ben the folded paper. "He wants to suppress the murder weapon. Says it was obtained by an illegal search."
"That's ridiculous!" Ben snapped, putting on his reading glasses. "The suspect was under arrest!"
"The cops might've had an arrest warrant, but they didn't have a warrant to search the guy's property." Paul explained, shrugging. He turned and walked out of Ben's office, crossing the hall towards his own cubicle.
Ben rubbed the bridge of his nose; he was incredibly tense over this case. Legally, it was no different than any of the others, but he'd never had a case that upset his own daughter. Emily had a soft spot for animals, and wouldn't accept that some of them might not be saved. Somehow he felt responsible for the welfare of those cats, and knew that his daughter would blame him if any of them were put to sleep.
His hands seemed to act on their own, reaching for the phone and dialing the 27th Precinct.
"Logan. Homicide."
"Mike, this is Ben Stone. About the Borman case –"
Ben could hear the tension rise. "Listen, Stone, if you're calling to bust my chops over that search, save it. My partner and I acted by the book."
"Uh, no," Ben interjected. "That's not why I'm calling. I want to know about the cats."
"The cats?" Logan's voice registered surprise. "Shouldn't you be calling the Humane Society?"
"Yeah, but I was wondering if maybe you or Briscoe knew anything." Ben paused, realizing that it was an odd information request. "It's for my daughter. She loves animals, and was very upset by the story in the Ledger."
"Well, let's see. Maybe you didn't know, but Lennie's a real Dr. Doolittle. Last he told me, about two-thirds of them had found homes. Apparently that story was a godsend."
Ben was relieved. "Thanks, Mike. I appreciate the info."
He hung up the phone, realizing that something was still nagging at him. Maybe he shouldn't have been so quick to say no to Emily's request for a cat. She was a responsible girl, and he would do almost anything to make her happy.
But it just didn't seem feasible.
Ben was expecting visitors. To his surprise, he was a little nervous. He knew one of his guests; the other, he was meeting for the first time. He had spent a good two weeks agonizing over this decision, and still wasn't sure whether it was a good idea. He wondered if it was too late for him to back out. Emily was asleep, having spent hours studying for a calculus test; if he changed his mind now, she would be none the wiser.
The doorbell rang; it was too late. Ben took a deep breath, then went to greet his guests.
"Delivery," said Lennie Briscoe. He was holding a tiny orange kitten. "And you owe me a huge tip. This little guy scratched me on the way over." He carefully handed the kitten over to Ben; if it wasn't squirming frantically, he would have mistaken it for a small lump of fur.
"Mew?"
Ben held the kitten gently with his left hand, while supporting its hind feet with his right. It extended a paw, taking a swipe at him.
What on Earth had he just gotten into?
He thanked Briscoe and went to wake Emily. Damn his soft heart.
finis