Just Keep The Caddy Moving
10th Floor

One Hogan Place

11.45 am Friday 1 December 2006

Regan did her best to avoid Jack McCoy the next morning but when she got back from arraigning that morning's crop of felons she couldn't put it off. She took a deep breath, picked up her files and went to knock on his door.

"Hey," McCoy said. "You're here for Skoda?"

"No," Regan said. "Got today's arraignments."

"Anything I need to know?" McCoy asked.

"Pled a couple, bailed a couple, remanded three," Regan said. "I think the Whitford murder is going to be a thing. The others, not so much."

"Got the file on Whitford?"

"Right here," Regan said, holding it out.

"I'll read it over the weekend, we'll talk Monday."

"Okay," Regan said. She turned to the door, turned back. "So you still want me to sit in with Dr Skoda?"

"Sure," McCoy said, seeming surprised.

"Okay," Regan said. So he's going to act as if yesterday evening never happened? If only I had a magic wand to make Ben Strickland do the same.

"It's a lunch," McCoy added. "I'll grab you on the way out."

Regan had talked to Emil Skoda on the phone but she hadn't met him before and her mind had built an image of an old man with a beard and a pipe. When he arrived at the restaurant she realised that she'd been imagining Sigmund Freud. Emil Skoda, balding, sparely built, self-contained, had nothing in common with her mental image except for his watchful, penetrating gaze.

She sat quietly and picked at her risotto while Skoda and McCoy tried to find a point of commonality over Timmy McMillan.

"So you're telling me I should give Timmy McMillan a pass because – "

"Not a pass, Jack. But you've met this boy. He's what we mental health professionals like to call 'dumb as a box of hammers'." Skoda shrugged. "He went along with the other two – and partly because he was scared of them."

"And partly because he wanted to emulate them," McCoy said.

"True," Skoda conceded. "All three of them have a pretty screwed up idea of masculinity. McMillan wanted to be a 'real man' like his two psychopathic friends. But I don't have any doubt that he had second thoughts."

"Second thoughts – before or after he forced Louise Yates to perform a sex act on him?"

"He says before Braxton and Lewis forced Louise Yates to – "

"Oh, come on!" McCoy said. "Don't tell me you buy that crap!"

"They were armed, Jack," Regan weighed in. "He wasn't."

"Defence of necessity?" McCoy said. " Adler's not running that one. And he would if it would fly – which means the constraint on McMillan can't have been all that goddamn strong."

"Strong enough to mitigate," Regan said.

" Adler wants an acquittal." McCoy put his cutlery down on his empty plate. "And we can't afford one."

"You mean, Arthur Branch can't afford one," Skoda said.

Regan pushed her risotto around a little more and looked up to see Skoda watching her. She put her fork down. "Excuse me," she said, and headed for the washroom, feeling like a kid caught hiding her brussell sprouts under the lettuce.

She gave them five minutes. Jack's finished his steak – Skoda didn't have much left on his plate – that should do it. As she approached the table she could see she was right – both men had finished their meals.

"What do you want me to say, Jack?" Skoda was saying as Regan came closer. "This is hardly a therapeutic setting."

"Just give me your read, Emil," McCoy said. "Should I worry? Should I bench her for a while?"

About to answer, Skoda looked up and saw Regan. His pause told her everything she needed to know; the expression on McCoy's face when he turned just confirmed it.

"I'm going to head back to the office," Regan said stiffly. "I'm sure you gentlemen would be more comfortable discussing me behind my back, behind my back."

"Regan – " McCoy said.

Regan shook her head and walked away.

She walked all the way back to One Hogan Place – something she regretted as she trudged across the lobby. Her pumps weren't walking shoes, for one thing – and for another, she was plenty stiff and sore enough without a hike. In her office, she closed the door behind her and cautiously lowered herself into her chair. Should I bench her for a while? McCoy had all but benched her already, Regan thought as she looked at her almost-empty desk.

She sighed and flinched as the incautious deep breath pulled at sore muscles in her side. Maybe he's right. Maybe I should be on the bench. The thought of sitting at home with nothing to do filled Regan with panic but the effort of getting through the week had exhausted her. She rested her elbows on her desk and leant her head on her hands. Close my eyes for a second.

"Hey," McCoy said behind her. Regan started, then hissed in pain as the movement pulled aching muscles. "You okay?"

"Is that what Dr Skoda says?" Regan asked, not looking at him.

"I asked Emil – "

"You know what, forget it," Regan said tightly. "If Dr Skoda has something to tell me I'm sure the switch downstairs won't have any trouble putting him through. Are you looking for the Whitford file?"

"You already gave that to me," McCoy reminded her.

"Okay," Regan said. "Then?"

McCoy leaned against her doorframe, hands in his pockets. "What did you think of what he said about Timmy McMillan?"

"I agree with him," Regan said. "That's why I told you to take the meeting."

"And what do you expect me to do about it?" McCoy asked.

"Whatever the hell you want, Jack!" Regan snapped, and then put her hand over her mouth.

McCoy looked sideways at her, not the angry glare she'd expected but a steady, assessing stare. " Skoda says McMillan is either a talented liar or as sharp as a sack of wet mice, and there's no way to tell which based on the kind of access Adler is going to give us. He thinks we need to dig into his background a little."

"I'll get – who caught this? Briscoe and Green?" Regan reached for her phone. "I'll get them to dig around – "

McCoy took a step forward and took the receiver out of her hand. "That might be a problem. Timmy McMillan is a recent immigrant to our city."

"From where?" Regan asked.

"Upstate." McCoy said. He hung up Regan's phone and sank into her visitor's chair. "Small town, about six hours away."

"Can we reach out to the locals?" Regan asked.

"I have a better idea," McCoy said. "Feel like a road trip?"

"A road trip?" Regan repeated.

"Over the weekend," McCoy said, and shrugged. "Check out a pool car. See the sights. Ask a few questions."

"You want me to spend the weekend driving up there and back?" Regan asked.

"It's scenic. Almost like a holiday," McCoy said.

"Yeah, except nothing like a holiday," Regan said.

"Oh, come on. It's pretty country up there."

"It's December."

"By one day," McCoy countered. "And besides, I've always wanted to go to Carthage."

" Carthage?" Regan said. And again with the moronic repetition.

"That's where he comes from. Carthage." McCoy grinned at her, so self-evidently pleased with himself that Regan couldn't help smiling back. " Colleen can book some motel rooms. We can drive up tonight and start asking questions first thing in the morning."

"We – You want to – sorry, you're coming?"

"You thought I'd send you on your own?"

"Half an hour ago I didn't think the topless towers of Ilium were on either of our weekend agendas."

"Wrong classical civilisation," McCoy said. "But points for effort." He leaned back in his chair, one long leg propped against her bookshelf and gave her the patented charming SOB Jack McCoy smile.

Regan found herself nodding as she smiled back. "All right," she said. "Let's go to Carthage."

"Better go home," McCoy said. "Pack a toothbrush." He got to his feet and patted her on the shoulder. "My office at five. We'll check out a car and hit the road."

.oOo.