THE INSIDER: MISSING SCENES
"What world does she live in?" Alex muttered as Lily Carlyle stormed out of Major Case.
"Not one remotely near ours," Bobby replied calmly.
"You don't think she killed her father?"
"No," Bobby answered. "And neither do you."
"No…No…I don't," Alex admitted. "It's just…I ran into a lot of kids like her when I was tending bar to get through college."
Bobby tried to hide his interest. He always appreciated learning something new about Alex Eames. "I always wondered how you knew so much about alcohol…I mean…Aside from the fact you're Irish…"
"You insulting my heritage, Goren?" Alex grinned. "I'll have you know that I have it on good authority that I'm descended from the uncrowned kings of Ireland."
Bobby smiled at her. "Seems to me that nearly every Irish person I meet is descended from the uncrowned kings of Ireland. Aren't there any descendants of Irish peasants?"
"Nope," Alex said. "Everyone is royalty. Which is what all the kids that came to this one bar thought they were. It was a hot place. Lots of very rich, very young, very good looking kids…The Lily Carlyles of that month. The job didn't pay much, and the hours were lousy, but the tips were awesome…"
"I thought you said they treated you badly," Bobby said.
"They did. But they'd pay for a five dollar drink with a twenty or a fifty and tell you to keep the change," Alex said. "Some nights I came home with several hundred dollars even after splitting the tips with the waitresses and the busboys."
"Wow," Bobby said. "As a former busboy and dishwasher, I thank you for your generosity."
"You're welcome." Alex nodded at him. "Anyway, Lily Carlyle is like those kids who threw money around and thought it could solve anything. And a lot of the times they were right."
"Her reaction to her father's death is mixed," Bobby said thoughtfully. "On one hand, it's like this nuisance to her. On the other, I think she's genuinely upset but trying to hide it."
"Think she cared about him?"
"I do," Bobby said. "For all of her comments about any news being good news, she was embarrassed when I brought up her sex life…I think it upset her because her father was upset about it."
"I can still dislike her?" Alex asked.
Bobby smiled. "Yes…Just don't let it hurt your judgment."
Several days later, Alex asked a similar question about a different person. "Can I dislike John Hampton?"
"Yes," Bobby said as he stepped into their SUV. "And I think you can be suspicious of him."
Alex stopped at the driver's door. "Bobby…Don't tell me…I'm not fond of the Bureau…And I don't like Hampton…But he is an FBI agent…"
"I know." Bobby stepped into the SUV. "It's more than a feeling, Eames. It's circumstantial, but combined with his attitude…He's deep in this undercover role. I think he's sleeping with Lily Carlyle, and I think he feels entitled to that. He's taking drugs, and it's not just to fit in. You don't have to do that to fit in. All the time I worked Narcotics, Ididn't take drugs. It's not easy, but you can do it. When…When you were in Vice, did you take drugs?"
"No," Alex conceded. "Although…I have to tell you that I came to understand why the working girls took them."
"Understanding and doing are very different," Bobby said.
"How did you keep from taking anything?" Alex asked.
"A mix of fact and fiction," Bobby said. "I could usually get by by saying that I didn't believe in using my merchandise or that I didn't believe in cutting into my profit. Or that I knew what the drugs could do to someone. I could always sell that one…"
"Well, we don't know what Hampton may have had to do," Alex said. "I suspect the Captain will need a lot more to go on to be convinced to go after an FBI agent. I gotta admit I'm not crazy about him checking our files."
"And I don't like that the one small bit of tape he showed us implicated a kid who'd drunk enough vodka gimlets to keep him from finding the front door, let alone get out to the rowing club and stabbing Carlyle," Bobby said.
"What's Hampton's motive?" Alex asked.
"I'm not sure," Bobby admitted. "But I think he may have been trying to protect his investigation. I think when Hampton discovered Carlyle was checking up on him, he moved to protect himself." Bobby shook his head. "If a private investigator found out Hampton was FBI, you gotta wonder why the Mob didn't find out."
"The Wise Guys aren't always that wise," Alex said.
"Lucky for Hampton," Bobby said.
As the case progressed, Alex admitted that Bobby's suspicions of John Hampton were justified. She was increasingly frustrated by the FBI's protection of Hampton, and she knew that frustrated didn't begin to describe Bobby's feelings. She appreciated Deakins' support and patience and wondered, not for the first time, how he maintained the precarious balance between supporting his detectives and dealing with the Brass. She also appreciated Ron Carver's efforts to breach the walls the FBI and federal prosecutor raised around Hampton.
"Take it easy," she chided Bobby one afternoon as they left Carver's office. "He's on our side, and I think he's almost as angry about this as we are."
"I know…I know…" Bobby waved a large paw. "It's just…Carver's right…Murder is…Or should be…The trump card…But I can't help but feel that even if we brought them a tape showing Hampton stabbing Carlyle that the FBI would still try to protect him."
"Maybe…But that federal prosecutor wouldn't," Alex said. "So…Let's get the evidence and get the guy."
And they got the evidence, with a great deal of help from Bobby's skill as an interrogator and his knowledge of psychology. Confronted with the evidence of her father's murder, Lily Carlyle turned on Hampton with gratifying quick and deep enthusiasm. John Hampton didn't know what hit him.
"Hey," Bobby said as they finished with the paperwork processing Hampton. "Can I buy you a margarita?"
"Yea," Alex said. "After all of that, I think I deserve one."
Roughly a half an hour later they sat across from each other in a booth. Alex gratefully sipped a large margarita.
"Hey…This has got the good stuff in it," she said. "Thank you."
Bobby tipped his Scotch to her. "Well…I'm grateful…You stuck with me…Takes some guts to face up to the FBI and the Brass when your partner's the only one on the other side." He spoke casually, but Alex sensed a great deal of feeling in his words.
"It wasn't hard once you got the evidence," she said. "And that got Deakins and Carver with us."
"Yea," Bobby acknowledge. "I've got to learn to get the physical evidence to back up my theories before I spout them off…Although you were listening even before I had it."
"It made sense…A lot more than the violent homeless person. But I gotta admit." Alex shook her head. "I thought we'd be looking at one of Lily's friends. Not an undercover FBI agent. They will be able to make the case against the Mob, right?"
"I think so…The FBI isn't always brilliant, but it's usually smarter than the Mob. Of course, if the FBI was brilliant, we might not have found Hampton. And I think he would've done something like this again."
"He had a pretty high opinion of himself, didn't he?" Alex sipped her margarita. "You think he'd have a little more respect for us after he saw our files."
"Yea…But people don't always pay attention to files and records."
There was a bitter tinge to Bobby's voice, and Alex was curious enough and emboldened enough by alcohol to ask about it. "You have some issues with the FBI?"
He shifted uncomfortably, and Alex though he might not answer.
"When I left the Army," he finally said. "There were some people in the FBI who wanted me. But there were others…They didn't care about my record with the CID in the Army…I'm not boasting…You could look it up…My record should've meant something…It wasn't that I wanted so desperately to be in the FBI…Especially after I went to Quantico…"
Alex sat up with interest. "You were at Quantico?"
Bobby briefly looked as if he wished he hadn't revealed that information. "Uh…Yea…When I was in the Army…I got some special training there."
Alex was impressed and didn't attempt to hide it. "Not everyone gets picked for that sort of thing."
"The training…And a lot of the people…" Bobby said. "Were great…I learned a lot…But…It got complicated…A lot of people in the FBI think it's the greatest thing in the world and can't understand why anyone would hesitate to join it…And in some ways it is great…But when I left the Army I was something like Hampton. I didn't want to spend ten years away from Washington or New York…I couldn't really…"
"Your Mom?" Alex asked gently. She knew it was a difficult subject for her partner.
"Yea," he said after a moment. "If I was going to come up through the ranks…Which I knew I had to do no matter where I went. I didn't think I was some great gift to police work. I knew I'd have to start at the bottom and work my way up. If I was in New York, I'd at least be close to her. And don't think I'm so noble or something. One reason I left the Army was because I was tired of moving around so much. I wanted to come home. To New York. To Brooklyn." He smiled.
"You weren't trying to make a great reputation," Alex said. "Not like Hampton. Do you think he knows he's done something wrong?"
"I don't know." Bobby shook his head. "I think he just saw Carlyle as a danger to his investigation."
"That happened a lot in vice," Alex said. "It was easy for a lot of the cops to forget the girls were human."
"I bet you didn't forget."
Alex studied Bobby. It was clear that forgetting anyone—perps or victims—was human was a bad thing in his book.
"I tried not to…But it was hard sometimes."
"It was tough in Narcotics to forget the dealers were human," Bobby said. "The guys on the lowest rungs are just trying to get by…"
"Even the guy who shot you?"
Bobby reddened. "You…You know about that?"
"Rogue FBI agents aren't the only people who can check records," Alex said. "Pretty impressive work. You never told me you had a Medal of Honor."
Bobby stared into his drink, and Alex thought that he would've accepted some criticism with greater ease.
"I…I didn't deserve it," he finally said. "I was just doing my job."
"I know they don't give out Medals of Honor for just doing your job," Alex said. "Did that get you to Major Case?"
"Yes," Bobby answered, grateful to leave the subject of how he got his Medal of Honor. "I wanted to work with the best on the hardest." He didn't add that he had the impression that his captain in Narcotics, although happy for the glory and good publicity Bobby brought to his squad, was happy to let Bobby move on. "I was lucky that Deakins had a place for me…And paired me with you."
"You weren't forced on anyone, you know," Alex said quickly and sharper than she intended. "Deakins wanted you and told me he had to fight off several other captains to get you."
"I bet there are moments when he wishes one of the others got me," Bobby murmured.
"Robert Goren." Alex spoke sharply and loudly, and several faces at other table turned in their direction. "Bobby," she said in a much lower voice. "Deakins feels that way about every Major Case detective at some point. All of us can be prima donnas. It comes from being one of the best."
"I've never known you to be a prima donna," Bobby said.
"You haven't talked with my family…"
Bobby smiled. "That's part of the danger, you know," he said, the smile fading.
"What?" She didn't quite follow this particular gear change of Bobby's mind.
"A sense of entitlement," Bobby said. "A sense that you deserve something because of the job and because you think you're so good. Some cops—not you, I know, and not me, I hope—would look at Lily Carlyle and wonder why they have to protect someone like that. I've seen the studies. Corrupt cops…It's not just money, it's because they think they deserve it."
"I can understand that," Alex said softly. "Thank you…"
Bobby was puzzled. "For…For what?"
"For trusting me…For being honest with me…You're the first person…Certainly the first cop…I've thought I could talk with about some of this stuff."
"You're welcome," Bobby said after a moment.
"John Hampton," Alex declared. "Knew nothing about us. Not everything is in a file."
END