Lack Luster
A/N: Thanks to Phoenix-Cry for the story title.
Chapter 1
Elizabeth stepped quietly out the back door leading to the patio. Spying Peter with his back turned and preoccupied with cooking steaks on the grill, she moved toward him with a stealthy grace. Taking a few steps closer, she tapped his back shoulder and quickly wrapped her arms around her favorite barbeque chef.
Peter jerked in surprise, dropping his tongs and grabbing for her hands.
"El! Give a man some warning."
She giggled as he quickly pulled her in front of him and kissed the top of her head. Releasing her hands, he stepped to the side and pointed to the grill. Two thick, prime-grade boneless rib-eyes sizzled on the grill surrounded by several ears of corn.
"Do you see these steaks?" he asked. "It takes an amazing concentration and expertise to achieve a juicy and tender piece of meat. Lady, I've been working hard out here."
Elizabeth peeked at the steaks and nodded her agreement.
"I know it's difficult being a skilled grill master who achieves steak perfection. But Peter, aren't these cuts rather . . . large? Who are you cooking for? Paul Bunyan?"
"Hon, steak size is very important. In my hours of research and execution, the cut, quality grade, and size are all indicators for success."
Peter wiped some of the sweat off his face.
"Of course, the prep is important too. First, you need to bring the steaks to room temperature. Then a coating of salt promotes the crusty, brown exterior. Of course, not any salt will do. Oh, no!" Peter exclaimed. "It has to be a coarse sea or kosher salt that will break down the protein molecules and seal in the moisture and flavor."
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows.
"You just can't beat a good marinade. Besides the usual soy and Worcestershire sauces and array of herbs, this one includes my secret ingredient - lemon juice."
Wrinkling his brow, Peter continued.
"You see, I'm striving for an explosion of favor that will rival the most fancy steak house. These babies are literally going to melt in your mouth, hon. You deserve the very best," he said, leaning down and giving her a quick peck on the cheek.
"I have the best," she replied with an impish grin, "and I'm sure they'll be perfect, Peter."
He beamed with pride, preparing to turn the meat.
Looking down at the grill shelf, his spouse noticed two empty beer bottles.
"Looks like you need a cold refill. Would you like another beer?"
"Ah . . . that would be delightful. Are you volunteering?" he asked, looking up and assuming a winsome expression.
"The least I can do for the man offering me a gastronomical ecstasy."
Peter chuckled.
"Good thing it's late Saturday afternoon," he said. "There's little chance of me being called back into the office. When I finished documenting the financial fraud reports this morning, only Neal was left hanging around the bullpen double checking the statistics. Even he must be home now . . . probably accomplishing whatever mischief he gets into on weekend afternoons."
Elizabeth smiled. Giving him a quick wave, she started to head back to the kitchen, but stopped at the door.
"Why didn't you invite Neal over for the barbeque?" she asked over her shoulder. "You know he enjoys a good steak."
"Hah," Peter replied. "Neal's not exactly the classic chewing carnivore. His idea of beef runs more along the line of a 12-ounce Japanese Kobe for about $350 a pop. We can't afford his idea of a steak cookout."
"I think you'd be surprised," answered Elizabeth, turning to face him. "You know Neal enjoys coming over here. Did you even ask him if he had plans today?"
Flipping the meat, taking a seat on the deck chair closest to the charcoal grill, Peter glanced at his wife apologetically.
"El, I spent my entire Saturday morning with the Harvard crew and Neal. My quota of Caffrey charm has runneth over. I'm really looking forward to a weekend of peace and tranquility."
"I understand," she said. "After the last few days of running down leads on crooked coin dealers, you need some rest."
"The Jenkins Case is a high priority." Peter sighed. "Not only because it involves fraud targeting the elderly but because of Reese Hughes' personal interest. Once he learned that Bradley Jenkins gains the trust of his clients and clears out their life savings, he's become determined to take this guy down."
"I don't blame Reese. Targeting seniors is appalling. Are you getting any closer to prosecution, Peter?"
Peter rubbed his hand through his hair.
"We know the criminals like to target seniors . . . for many reasons. Unfortunately, our own office has seen crimes against the elderly on the rise for quite a while. Senior citizens are more likely to have a nice nest egg, be ashamed to admit being scammed or are even fuzzy on the details. With Jenkins, his victims don't seem to even realize they're swindled until months have passed. This creep gains their trust and they worry about making false accusations. It's been a nightmare finding evidence against him."
"I have confidence in your ability, Agent Burke. And I'll be right back with your brew," Elizabeth promised.
Peter sat down in the patio chair closest to the grill. Keeping an eye on his dinner, he was getting ready to press the flesh, using the hand method to test for doneness, when his cell phone in back pants pocket went off. His groan was probably heard by El back in the kitchen.
He rolled his eyes at the sky and barked, "Burke".
"Hey Peter."
"Yes, Neal. What do you want?"
"My, my! Your grumpiness has not improved since this morning. Did I catch you at a bad time?"
"You better have a good reason for disturbing my Saturday afternoon."
"Elizabeth said you're grilling steak. You usually enjoy that. If you─"
"Why were you talking to Elizabeth? No. Never mind! Neal─"
"I just talked to Paul Henderson. You remember, the fellow from Queens who's used Jenkins, in the past, to value and sell his coins."
"I know who Henderson is─"
"Peter. Henderson gave me a name of another person Jenkins targeted. I thought you'd want to know."
"I do. Where are you?"
"I'm still at the office."
Cradling the phone on his shoulder, Peter checked the steaks and pulled them off the grill.
"Give me an hour. I'm coming back in."
"I'll be here. Wait! Are you bringing me some of the rib-eye─"
Peter hung up.
"El," he shouted. "Bring the plates. I have to eat quickly!"
