Disclaimer: Diagnosis Murder and the characters in it are owned by CBS and Viacom and are merely being borrowed for recreational and non-profit purposes. I promise to return them unhar... OK, mostly unharmed.
Rating: T
Summary: An evening out turns into a night of terror for Mark, Steve and the gang.
Author's note: This is a completed story (it should be since it's taken almost two years to write!) and will be posted at regular intervals as I manage to insert the swarms of missing commas that my wonderful beta, Nonny, discovers for me. Thanks, my friend!
Blast
Chapter 1
Steve, are you ready yet? The emphasis on the final word gave the tuneful enquiry a slight air of impatience as it echoed round the confining walls of the bathroom, and Steve gave a resigned grimace to the well-dressed reflection in the mirror.
I'm coming, he shouted back and, suiting the action to the word, he exited the bathroom and strode athletically up the stairs to the kitchen he shared with his father.
Mark, looking very distinguished in his own tuxedo, was checking his watch again rather blatantly, but his face softened at the sight of Steve. He took a few steps to close the distance between them, his hands going automatically to straighten his son's tie, the obvious pride glowing in his eyes restraining Steve from following his first impulse to bat his father's arms away irritably.
Mark's words, however, were characteristically understated. You don't clean up too badly.You're looking pretty sharp yourself, Steve retorted as Mark stepped back to admire his handiwork.
Well, let's get going, Mark announced brightly. We don't want to be late.
He suppressed a smile as the incredulous look on his son's face clearly announced that at least half of their party would be delighted not only to be late but to miss the event altogether.
I'm sorry I didn't get home earlier, Steve apologised somewhat insincerely, wishing he'd been able to legitimately extend his absence even further. Things got busy, he explained vaguely.
I'm just glad you're here, Mark continued cheerily. I was half-expecting a telephone call from you saying you couldn't make it. Steve expostulated with grave indignation. I said I'd be here. Besides, he added after a beat, the Captain kicked me out.
This time his father's grin was unconcealed as Steve continued with disgust, He said my presence would be a credit to the department.Maybe you'll enjoy it. Mark clapped his hand on his son's shoulder, steering him deftly towards the door.
A snort announced his son's opinion of that groundless optimism. Well, at least you'll get a free meal out of it.There is that, Steve brightened slightly. I just hate wearing this stupid suit. He extended his neck forward, then side to side, trying to stretch his collar enough to gain some freedom of movement, but these strange gyrations only made him look like an irate goose on the rampage. It's a good thing there'll be doctor's around to give me CPR once this thing has shut off my air supply.
He continued to grumble, though, in truth, his dislike of formal wear and sententious speeches was outweighed by the pleasure of an evening in his father's company. Even ceremonies like this could not be boring in Mark's irreverent presence.
It was an election year and the mayor, casting around for favourable publicity to generate votes, had settled on a series of local dinners around Los Angeles to celebrate the work done by volunteers in the community. Steve had been trawled into the net, as he disparagingly phrased it, because of his services as a volunteer firefighter. Illustrating the random nature of the choices, Amanda had not received an invitation, although her contributions to the community were just as numerous and significant as those of Mark and Jesse who had been handed the neatly engraved cards by the hospital administrator. However, Amanda had accepted Mark's request to be his guest for the evening, so all four of them would be present.
Mark's own distaste for pomp and ceremony were overridden by his belief in the importance of the volunteer spirit and the boost it could gain by this public recognition.
Jesse's new girlfriend, a young veterinarian who had been a regular customer at BBQ Bob's, was accompanying him. Steve, on the other hand, had invested too much of his energy into finding a plausible reason to avoid the occasion altogether and so had missed the opportunity to secure a date, and his lack of female companionship, in contrast to father and friend, probably contributed to his less than agreeable mood.
Steve had always found the act of driving oddly soothing, the combination of speed and power satisfying both his need for recklessness and his conflicting desire for control. Motoring along the highway towards the city didn't exactly compare to his racing career, but it helped him relax, and the jagged edges of his disgruntlement quickly melted in the warmth of his father's company.
Mark was an entertaining conversationalist, regaling his son with amusing anecdotes from work, and also an attentive listener, allowing Steve to relieve some of his frustrations from an inherently stressful job, and by the time they had arrived at Amanda's house, the detective had reverted to his customary good humour.
They were surprised to see Jesse's car parked alongside Amanda's, since the original understanding between them was that the young doctor would meet them at the convention centre.
He should have cut and run when he had the chance, Steve muttered, avoiding his father's amused gaze by taking the steps two at a time.
Amanda greeted them at the door looking even more elegant than usual in a long evening dress and fashionable hair-do.
The baby-sitter's not here yet, she explained apologetically. Come in.
Mark enquired after the boys and, on discovering they were playing with Legos in their bedroom, disappeared into the back of the house to join them.
Steve was mentally weighing the possible merits of volunteering to replace the errant childminder, when he was distracted from his speculations by the sight of Jesse sitting on the couch, neatly decked in black tie and with his hair combed into greater submission than its usual disorder.
Steve's keen detective instincts grasped another pertinent fact. Jesse was alone. Where's Emily? he asked with seeming casualness.
Jesse tilted his chin up, wrapping his dignity round him like a cloak or perhaps more like a shield to fend off the jabs he knew would be forthcoming.
She had to operate on a Budgie's beak, he articulated precisely with a hint of challenge.
A quick glance at Amanda's expression confirmed Steve's suspicion, and a broad smile spread over his face. She dumped you, he said with relish.
Steve had taken enough flack from his friend for what Jesse termed the train wreck of his love life' to feel no compunction in teasing the young doctor. Jesse did not confirm the deduction, but neither did he deny it, merely casting around for a change of subject. However, Steve wasn't about to allow his prey to escape so easily. Revenge was not only sweet, it was long overdue.
He shook his head in patently spurious sympathy. That's too bad. What was the problem - your job, your hours, your BBQ sauce...your height?
Jesse's eyes narrowed dangerously. Short jokes? You can't do any better than that?You shouldn't have given her those flowers for Valentines. Women like something more permanent for a gift. It shows commitment.Oh right. Like I'm going to take romantic advice from Lieutenant Date-a-Disaster.
Steve had heard far worse and merely smiled back amiably.
Sensing that the two friends were settling down for a comfortable session of trading insults, Amanda attempted to throw the palliative oil of flattery on choppy waters. I think you both look particularly handsome tonight. Any woman would be proud to accompany you to this dinner.You're quite right. This unexpected affirmation from Jesse brought Amanda's eyes around in surprise and Steve's in suspicion.
Well, look at him. Jesse's eyes were round with innocence as he pointed at his friend. He should have girls draped all over him. He paused allowing an expectant silence to fill the room. Of course, they'd all have criminal records as long as...
He dodged the first cushion, but was laughing too hard to maintain his defense, and the second hit him squarely in the face and he collapsed still chortling on the couch, his hair reverting to its accustomed state of disarray.
Amanda watched them in mock disgust and was about to make a disparaging comment on the idiocies of male bonding when the doorbell rang. The baby-sitter was verbose in her apologies for her tardiness, but Amanda soothed her ruffled feathers and, with a practiced check of dietary requirements, bedtimes and contact numbers and a final kiss for the boys, ushered her other charges out of the door.
The dinner was to be held in the ballroom on the tenth floor of the Omni Hotel in the business district. It wasn't a particularly extended drive, but the traffic slowed to an aggravating crawl long before they could see their destination.
We could play I Spy', Jesse suggested facetiously as they inched forward.
Not if you want to live long enough to actually arrive, Steve threatened casually from the driver's seat.
There it is. Mark pointed to a building ahead, fourteen floors high and with an ornate facade that contrasted oddly to the stark, featureless exteriors of the office buildings that flanked it. In front of its rotating glass doors, cars were disgorging well-dressed passengers.
I'll drop you guys off at the next lights, Steve informed the others.
Amanda leaned forward. I'm sure they have valet parking, she offered.
Steve's, I don't think so, was echoed almost immediately by Jesse's equally trenchant, No way, and even Mark was shaking his head.
she exclaimed in exasperation at this esoteric male ritual.
When this thing's finished, Jesse explained kindly, everyone will pile out at once and it will take forever to get out of there.So I'll park somewhere else to speed things up, Steve elaborated unnecessarily. Here we are. Everyone out.
Mark exited with a spryness that belied his age and opened the door gallantly for Amanda, offering her a hand. He stooped down to comment cheerfully through the open door, Don't be long, before taking Amanda's arm through his.
I won't, and don't let Jesse eat all the food before I get there, Steve called back.
Hey, I resemble that remark, Jesse shouted after the departing car.
As Steve drove off, the three friends joined the line that was waiting patiently to pass through the revolving doors. The sun had gone down, but its heat remained, baked into the concrete sidewalk beneath their feet and absorbed into the humid, heavy air that enveloped them. The formal clothes they were wearing exacerbated the sweltering conditions, and it was with considerable relief that they presented their invitations and finally entered into the air-conditioned refinement of the Omni.
Although it was cooler inside, the press of bodies crowding around the elevators radiated their own warmth, and the three friends steered away from the main group, keeping to the periphery of the plushly decorated atrium.
I need to freshen up. Amanda peered around over the multitude of bobbing heads for an identifying sign to the facilities, but the hotel appeared to be too elegant to clearly advertise such prosaic services. I'm going to ask for directions. I'll meet you two up in the ballroom.
They watched her disappear into the crowd, slipping effortlessly through the congested lobby, then Mark turned to Jesse with a bright smile. Want to skip the elevator and try the stairs?
Jesse contemplated the prospect of trudging up ten flights of stairs. I don't think that would cool me down any, he stated doubtfully.
Elevator it is, then. Mark towed his young friend into the slowly diminishing line seeking the quickest route to the upstairs ballroom.
Mark had been a practicing physician and an active member of the Malibu community for so long that he knew a surprising number of people in the area, and Jesse was impressed by how many of the guests the older man could greet by name, asking after family members and general well-being.
As they emerged from the muffled confines of the elevator into the muted roar of the ballroom, an elderly lady accosted Mark with delight, her ample chest providing a display shelf for the jewelry dripping off her neck.
Dr. Sloan, how delightful to see you here, she trilled in a voice quite incongruous with her buxom size.
Mark smiled at her, bending gallantly over the hand she presented to him. Mrs. Belmont, it's lovely to see you. How are you?I'm quite my old self now, thanks to you.And how's Trixie doing?Oh, Dr. Sloan, you should see her. She's bouncing around like a baby again. I can't thank you enough. I swear you saved her life!
Intrigued by this slightly incongruous but obviously heartfelt claim, Jesse couldn't help but interject. My Pomeranian, Mrs. Belmont elaborated proudly.
A dog. Jesse attempted to keep his tone deadpan, but something of his irreverence must have crept through because he shortly found himself on the receiving end of two quelling stares, although he didn't miss the sparkle of mirth that lurked in Mark's eyes.
Trixie is my baby and there is no other person I'd trust her health to.Yes, Ma'am, quite understandable, Jesse agreed meekly, although privately he was rehearsing veterinarian jokes for Mark's benefit. If you'll excuse me, I see...some h'ordeuvres. He backed away hastily, heading for the buffet table. He felt a trifle guilty at abandoning his friend but any penitent thoughts he entertained were quickly banished by the more pressing problem of selecting food from the palatable spread in front of him.
He was pausing in front of the vegetables, conscientiously adding a few green beans and some broccoli to his already impressively laden plate, when he spotted Steve further down the line applying himself with equal enthusiasm to the process of ladling food onto his plate.
He sidled along until he reached his friend's side. Not a bad spread, huh? he whispered, staring appreciatively at the offerings lying temptingly before them.
Steve spared him a quick glance. It probably rates higher than the hospital cafeteria, he mused judiciously, Not as good as Bob's, they finished in loyal concert and exchanged grins.
There's a price to be paid for this, you know, Steve warned in an undertone.
Jesse looked around in confusion as if expecting to see a tip jar nearby.
Steve explained in a sepulchral voice.
Jesse's grimace of aversion exactly mirrored the detective's own reaction and, balancing a slice of garlic bread perilously on the side of his plate, Steve backed away from the buffet, gesturing with a nod of his head.
Let's see if we can find a place near the back of the room. That way, we'll be poised for a quick exit.
They weren't the first to act on that idea, but they did find an empty table that met their specifications. All the tables were round and seated eight, and Steve automatically positioned himself with his back to the wall, a location that furnished him with an unobstructed view of the whole room. Saving space for Mark and Amanda between them, Jesse took the fourth chair and applied himself to the serious business of eating.
Using his vantage point to survey the room, Steve soon spotted his father and Amanda balancing their own plates while searching for the missing members of their party and he waved them over.
So, this is where you guys have been hiding, Mark commented amiably, placing his food on the table and pulling the chair out from beside Jesse to politely assist Amanda before seating himself next to his son.
Not hiding exactly, more like...sequestering, Steve answered through a mouthful of scalloped potatoes.
Not exactly under conditions of hardship, though, Amanda observed with a pointed stare at their still-generous portions.
We'll need all our strength for later. Jesse met her gaze earnestly and although Amanda suspected a trap from the sheer innocence in his expression, she couldn't help but ask why.
Jesse looked around conspiratorially, and Amanda unconsciously mirrored his body language by leaning forward confidingly as he did.
he whispered in much the same tone as Steve had used earlier.
Amanda stared at him in disgust for a moment. And this only just occurred to you?Well, I didn't think...I mean, I thought Emily was coming, Jesse said plaintively as if that explained everything.
As if in response to Jesse's verbalisation of the anticipated oratory, an ominous whine emanated from the loudspeakers and the noise in the room faltered and staggered to an uncertain halt as people gazed up at the figure on the podium with the microphone.
Ladies and Gentlemen, as the manager of the Omni I would like to welcome you here tonight. I hope you are enjoying the food, and please feel free to help yourself to a fresh plate at any point in the proceedings. Now, without any further ado, I would like to present the mayor of this great city, Mr. Thomas Harrington.
Steve joined in the polite applause as the mayor stood, nodding his easy acceptance to the acknowledgment, and made his way to the podium. He was a well-built man with the straight white teeth and slightly plastic good looks that one associated with politicians and B-movie stars in Los Angeles.
Ladies and Gentlemen, Harrington paused to grace the room with another glimpse of expensive dentistry, I am honoured to be here tonight in the presence of the true heroes of our community...
Steve gave a mental snort and turned his focus back on his food. He didn't see himself as a hero; he merely did the work at which he was best. He was sure there were people in that room who did deserve that title, but the liberal bestowal of that appellation annoyed him, as it spoke of the unctuous flattery of political gain rather than sincere appreciation.
As the mayor's oratory hit what appeared to be an inexhaustible stride, Mark leaned over to Steve and whispered, I guess he's never learned that less is more -- less talking equals more votes.No talking would certainly get my vote, Steve muttered back. He lay down his fork on the empty plate with some regret and was contemplating returning to the buffet when a deep muffled thud sounded from somewhere below, and the building quivered like a wounded animal.
Silence this time was immediate and absolute, even Harrington freezing into the same intent, expectant stance as the rest of the room. It was the stillness of prey waiting for the talons of the hunter to close or the count after the pin had been pulled from the grenade.
The tableau remained fixed and motionless for a second that stretched into infinity, but it was Steve who broke it. Either from experience, training or prescience, he anticipated the likely sequence of events. With a shout of, Get down! he dove for Mark, dragging him off his chair and under the table and the shelter of his own body. He felt rather than heard the huge concussive blast that hurled the table away from them, but the sound erupted a heartbeat later in a monstrous boom and crunch as the glass exploded out of the windows. Everything was encompassed by a bright flare, then the lights failed and everything went dark.
