They sat in the air-conditioned comfort of Starbucks. It was as much "neutral ground" as Juliet could think of to end their little excursion. She'd told Carlton she wanted to take Marlowe out for shopping and coffee after Marlowe's release in order to get to know her partner's lover. That much was true, but it wasn't the type of getting-to-know Carlton thought.
After two hours of girl talk, small talk, and just talk, Juliet had seen no reason to alter her objective.
"Before you go," Juliet said as Marlowe moved to rise from the table, "there are a couple of things I want you to know." She kept her voice as polite as her facial expression. Juliet was deadly serious, not exaggerating in the slightest, and Marlowe needed to understand that. "First: I've been Carlton's partner for six years. He's not just a friend, he is almost family. Two: I've been on the force for almost twice that time. And three: I am watching you."
Juliet paused, just like she'd rehearsed, to let the reality of the last sentence sink in. If the way Marlowe's eyes darkened was any indication, it was.
"I get it: you were poor before your conviction, and now you're completely broke. Carlton is good with money, so he's got a nice little stash of it, and he 'provides for his ladylove' in a way most modern men don't. He's bought you a house to live in, let you use his car, and I know the bills he's paying aren't all food and utilities." Juliet let her eye slip to Marlowe's sharp red top and then back up to meet Marlowe's furious gaze. Fine, let her be angry. "If this is some sort of long con, if you are using Carlton's feelings to fleece him or even for some post-penitentiary security until you find something permanent, believe me when I tell you that not even Shawn and his psychic visions will ever find the body when I am through. So you can either make your excuses and leave now, or else stay knowing I won't accept anything less than you showing every bit as much commitment and devotion as Carlton. Am I clear?" Juliet smiled with her mouth, but left her gaze glacial. The effect was chilling when Carlton did it. Marlowe's eyes widened even as her mouth stayed a hard line of anger, so apparently it was scary when Juliet did it, too.
"Crystal clear, Detective," Marlowe replied. "I love Carlton. I'm sorry you can't accept that. Thanks for the coffee and the afternoon."
Juliet hadn't expected a confession – she wasn't even 100% sure Marlowe was really conning Carlton, the threat was meant as to deter a worst-case-scenario more than anything else – but she certainly hadn't expected Carlton to greet her in front of the department the next morning with a surly, "What the Hell, O'Hara?"
"What do you mean, 'what the Hell'?"
"Your little speech to my girlfriend yesterday. That was completely out of line. You had no right to lie to me about your intentions just to get Marlowe alone so you could threaten her with murder."
"I was out of line?" Juliet asked, her own ire rising to meet Carlton's. "Because I recall you making the exact same speech to Shawn when we started dating." Not that Carlton or Shawn had told her, but Shawn had told Gus, which was almost the same as posting it on your Facebook. "Including the murder threat."
"That was completely different!" Carlton shot back, his voice rising.
"Oh, really? And how was it different, Carlton, tell me how it was different." Juliet crossed her arms, sarcasm lacing her tone.
"Let's see," Carlton said, matching her attitude for attitude, "other than the fact your boyfriend is actually a con artist, I told Spencer that I'd shoot him if he treated you like just another conquest."
"It's the same thing," Juliet said pedantically, "and Shawn is not a con artist."
"No it's not, and yes he is."
"Just because you can't accept that Shawn is psychic doesn't mean that I'm out of line giving Marlowe the exact same speech you gave him. Do you know what your problem is, Carlton?"
"Tell me what my problem is, O'Hara," Carlton argued back, running over the top of Juliet's, "Your problem is that you can't take what you dish out!" The two sentences ran over the top of each other, a jumbled morass that had Sergeant Allen fleeing for the station entrance even as it drew Shawn, unnoticed by the fighting pair, like a magnet.
"It's completely fine for you to threaten Shawn, and I'm supposed to be complimented like it's some kind of sign of affection, but now that it's your girlfriend on the receiving end it's out of line!"
"Oh, cut the histrionics, O'Hara," Carlton snapped, his choice of words deliberately provocative and devastatingly successful. "Telling Marlowe to dump me because she's only interested in me for my money isn't a sign of affection."
Juliet's fury escalated to blinding and was cut as if by a knife in the same second, and she froze in the face of twin impulses to clock Carlton in the jaw and grovel for forgiveness. In the millisecond pause, Shawn leaped to his girlfriend's "rescue."
"Oh, come on, Lassie, that's just true."
Juliet saw the muscle shifts telegraphing Carlton's movement. Shawn, facing Carlton's left side, couldn't. Juliet dived to intercept the blow and was either too slow or too fast, she couldn't be sure. All she knew was a painful impact on her left side and spots dancing at the edge of her vision. Juliet dropped to one knee, the roughness of the sidewalk a dim counterpoint. The moment – or moments – it took for her to shake off the blow seemed drawn out forever. By the time she had drawn herself back up and demanded the boys stop, Vick was already shouting, one hand on either man's chest while McNab held back Lassie and Gus held Shawn.
"Carlton, my office. Mr. Spencer, in the conference room!" Vick ordered. "Now!"
Shawn was dragged toward the building by Gus first. He made general "I'll take you" motions over Gus's shoulder. Lassiter gave Juliet a baneful look, then shook himself free of McNab's grip and loped up the stairs.
"Are you all right, O'Hara?" Vick asked.
"Yeah," Juliet said, fingering her sore cheek. Her foundation would be covering bruises for a week, at least. "Carlton wasn't aiming for me; I just ended up in the way."
Vick nodded.
"McNab, you see what happened?"
"Well," Buzz said hesitantly, "Detectives O'Hara and Lassiter were having a pretty heated discussion, but nothing out of line, and then Shawn – Mr. Spencer – walked up, and next thing Lassiter took a swing at him. Detective O'Hara tried to block him and got hit herself, went down, Lassiter moved to assist, and Mr. Spencer took a swing. Detective Lassiter tried to collar him, Mr. Spencer resisted, and then you came out. It was just a scuffle."
"O'Hara?"
"I didn't really see anything after I was hit," Juliet said, her stomach fluttering involuntarily at the anger in Vick's brown eyes. "But Shawn was only trying to defend me, and Carlton did throw the first punch."
McNab nodded.
"And I don't suppose," Vick said, her eyes sliding back to Juliet, "you'd like to tell me what you two were fighting about."
"I gave the same speech to Marlowe that Carlton gave to Shawn," Juliet said, the fluttering in her stomach getting worse, "and Carlton read something into it I didn't intend. I was going to apologize, Chief, but-" Juliet hesitated. Carlton was by and far Vick's favorite, and Shawn was always in trouble as it was. "Shawn jumped in too quick," she finished lamely.
"And neither of you heard what Shawn said?"
McNab shook his head, but Vick's eyes hadn't left Juliet.
"Just the usual Shawn," Juliet said softly, feeling as if an invisible hand were quieting her voice.
"I want written statements from both of you," Vick said, and then walked into the police station.
Juliet went inside. She sat at her desk with a heavy heart and leaded stomach. She picked up her pencil and looked at Vick's office. The door was shut and the blinds closed. Juliet drummed the pencil against the page and glanced at the conference room. She could see Shawn through the blinds, tapping on his green Psych phone. She set the pencil down and opened Word.
After a few minutes, Carlton emerged from Vick's office. His shoulder holster was empty, and he wasn't wearing his badge on his belt.
Juliet rushed over to Carlton's desk as he removed something from the drawer.
"Carlton, I'm so sorry-"
"I don't want to hear it, O'Hara," Carlton snapped.
"I'll talk to Vick," Juliet began, though what she could say that could trump both eyewitnesses saying the Head Detective had thrown the first punch against a civilian contractor for a not-unusual remark she had no idea. That it had seemed a good idea at the time; that the thought Vick might actually take disciplinary action had never occurred to her: neither seemed like an adequate defense.
"You've done enough of that already."
Juliet watched him leave, straight-backed and radiating anger like a specter's chill aura. By the time she'd turned away, Vick was already in the conference room. Her conversation was short, and Shawn looked appropriately petulant. When Vick emerged, she looked at O'Hara.
"Written statement, I mean it," Vick ordered, then returned to her office.
Shawn came out of the conference room smiling.
"Three days without Lassie," Shawn said, approaching Juliet's desk as she sat down again. "You get to be lead on every case, request Psych as much as you want, no Lassifras taking over your briefings, and more to snack on than a packet of sunflower seeds on the road."
"I covered for you, Shawn," Juliet snapped, suddenly furious again. Her eyes were burning and no, she would not cry here in the bullpen. She had nothing to cry about. "What you said to Carlton was completely out of line."
"He had no right to be picking on my girlfriend, and I was only stating the obvious."
"It's not obvious," Juliet snarled back. She felt the guilt twist in her. It's what she'd as good as told Marlowe, even if she had meant it to disparage Marlowe's character, not Carlton's.
"Yes, it is, you said it yourself, and big picture: it's just a little suspension. I've been suspended so many times from so many places I can't keep track."
Shawn had, which was why he wouldn't understand what the suspension would mean to someone with Carlton's perfect record. The only other time he'd been suspended he'd been framed, and that had meant the suspension had been expunged.
"This is my fault," Juliet said.
"He threw the first punch," Shawn scoffed. "At me. Your boyfriend."
"I have to go," Juliet said, picking up her jacket as she stood up.
"Good, we can grab some coffee and those pineapple Danishes you like."
"No, Shawn, I'm going alone. I just—I just need to think about what I'm going to say, okay?" And with that, she fled. If Vick or Shawn protested, Juliet didn't hear. She just got in her car and drove.
She didn't notice the van following her until it rear-ended her at the stop sign. She swore at the unwelcome interruption. Distracted by her fury and her shame, she rifled through the glove compartment for her insurance information without paying any attention to the two men who emerged from the van. She didn't notice the ski masks until one opened her door and grabbed her by the hair, but by then it was too late. The needle had already been plunged into her shoulder, and the world faded to darkness.