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Beta: bigj52

RIDDLE

Crime Scene

Detective Danny Williams had eighty-three homicide cases under his belt. Then why, since he'd come to Hawaii, was he dealing with robberies and carjacking? That's why - he was a haole. That was the fancy name the Hawaiians used for the white people from the mainland. They claimed it had no derogatory connotations, was not racist at all, yet that was exactly how it felt. Racist and bigoted.

Danny was a haole, an outsider. He didn't fit in and didn't want to fit in, thank you very much. If they didn't want him, he wasn't going to go down on his knees and he most definitely wasn't going to change who he was. He freely expressed his radical and unpopular opinions about the beach, the pineapple and fluffy pink flowers and he insisted on wearing a tie because if there were important things in Danny Williams' life, being professional was one of them. He was a police detective, he was good at his job and he was damn proud of it.

The only person who marginally put up with his mainlandish ways was his partner, Meka Hanamoa. The native Hawaiian was good enough detective himself to appreciate competence when he saw one. They respected each other and even had a beer or two after hours to celebrate a well cracked case. Once, Danny was invited to Meka's home for a barbeque. In fact, they were slowly becoming friends.

And then, Detective Williams was given his first homicide case in Hawaii.

Of course everything about it screamed, 'don't get excited,' from the very start. First, Meka was nowhere to be found when Danny was called in to the crime scene. Chief Mahaka told him to take care of the matters on his own, which was a tough job, because the teams at the scene weren't eager to cooperate with a haole. Then he realized they were dealing with a murder of a retired HPD officer, someone the Chief certainly knew and Danny couldn't understand why the boss had given this case to a detective he did not respect and whose job would be sabotaged at every turn?

There were no witnesses. Forensics were lazy and sloppy. The ballistics report would not be available until tomorrow afternoon and that if they wouldn't get more pressing cases. What the hell would get higher priority than a murder of a colleague? Danny had dealt with all kinds of matter resistance, stupidity and bureaucracy back in New Jersey but they'd never ignore one of their own being killed - execution style.

It was all Danny could do, to give all he had into this case. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep knowing that nobody else cared so, late in the evening, he found himself approaching the silent house.

There was a car, some old, black, rusty beast parked at a neighboring property. Danny didn't recall it standing there in the afternoon.

The front door were left ajar, something even sloppiest crime scene unit wouldn't omit.

Detective Williams drew his gun and tiptoed inside. The front room was dark and empty but Danny could clearly see the overturned chair, white lines indicating where the body had fallen. Blood stains on the wall weren't perceptible but he had seen them earlier, in the light of day and now memory provided a vivid picture.

He was about to clear the next room - the study - when a sound from the garage caught his attention. Likely, the perpetrator was there. His gun raised, Danny crept through the corridor, holding his breath. He cursed himself something stupid for letting his pride and ambition surpass common sense. Visiting the crime scene without backup at such ungodly hour? He had not acted this moronic since his rookie years. What had he expected to find? The killer was the most certain bet, because some of those psychos were getting off on seeing the murder site again and again.

The door frame gave off a tiny squeak when Danny stepped on it, betraying his presence to whoever was inside. Damn.

"You!" The detective didn't waste any more time. "Hands up, don't move!" he yelled at the man standing at the counter in the far corner of the room.

The stranger was leaning over a red tool box, closing the lid on it but at the sound of Danny's voice he turned toward him and obediently lifted his hands a notch. Didn't appear otherwise intimidated.

"Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?" he growled before Danny managed to ask the question.

Oh, okay. "I am Detective Danny Williams of the Honolulu PD," he introduced himself. "Who are you?"

"Steve McGarrett. This is my father's house."

That made Danny stop for a heart-beat.

The notion that McGarrett had a son caught him off guard. Nothing in the house screamed 'family'; there were no pictures of any children or a wife - correction, woman, the children's mother - on display. McGarrett might have been divorced; if anyone knew about the strain being a police officer put on a family, that would be Danny Williams. He had pictures of his daughter everywhere he could put them though and John McGarrett had none of any children.

Danny took a step closer, trying to see the stranger's features in the faint moonlight. He couldn't say he'd be an expert in gauging semblance between his victim and the man standing in front of him now, not having met John McGarrett before today - in the coroner's office. Difference in hair color didn't rule out family. The posture? The stranger was almost certainly taller than his presumed father, of frailer built. His face was shadowed and Danny couldn't really see it. What he could see though, despite darkness, were his eyes and their intense glare.

He lowered his gun reluctantly, refraining from holstering it just yet.

"Let me see some ID," he demanded but toned his voice down, in case the man was actually honest.

The man in question remained unfazed. He lowered his hands, the left one landing protectively on the lid of the box - and Danny's detective instincts went into overdrive at that. The box, there was something about this box - he measured Danny from head to toe and threw him off his scent again, saying in a calm, lightly mocking tone,

"What about your ID? You're the one wielding a gun in here." He nodded at the pistol. "You're the one who should explain yourself."

Danny snorted. The guy was acting as if he was not trespassing the police-sealed house at all. He was arrogant and self-confident to the point it was no longer amusing. In fact, he was rather annoying. "I should explain myself?" The Detective waved his hand - and wielded the gun in it, indeed - justifiably offended. "He says I should explain myself! I'm not someone snooping around the crime scene! I'm a police officer doing my job!"

"Am I supposed to believe that just because you say so?" the stranger cut in.

And he had a point.

Danny gritted his teeth and reached to his back pocket. He wasn't sure if the intruder's impertinence angered him more, or the fact that he was actually right.

"Okay!" he barked. "All right. That's my badge, satisfied? Now's your turn!"

Steve McGarrett - if it really was him - eyed the badge from the distance then he pulled his own document - a freshly printed, probably never-before-used P.I. license in a shiny new cover. Danny took a step closer and he couldn't deny that the man in the picture was a merrier version of the one standing before him and the name it was issued for was Steven J. McGarrett. It could have been fake, of course, but then - it would probably look more worn out. And who would fake a P.I. license for identification purposes? It didn't make sense. If he wanted to fake an ID, it would rather be a driver's license or a passport.

Fine then, as far as Danny was concerned, the intruder's identity was confirmed. It was his presence at the house that was still problematic.

"Listen," Danny said, moving forward and finally holstering his gun. "I'm really sorry about your father, but you can't be here right now. This is an active crime scene."

"Doesn't seem all that active," McGarrett deadpanned, once more throwing Danny off his game.

What was it about him that he wanted to antagonize the only person that was actually on his side? His father was just murdered and most likely no one beside Detective Danny Williams wanted to find the killer. Maybe the guy suspected things would be like this, maybe he thought this detective was just like the rest of them. Danny wanted to assure him that he wasn't, that he would do everything in his power to solve the case of John McGarrett's murder. And that he was good at it, he had eighty three homicide cases to prove it.

"I'm sorry," he tried to show he was friendly. "I am doing all I can." Yeah, friendly, compassionate and considerate. And at the same time firm and professional. "But you can't be here right now. I'm gonna have to ask you to leave."

He didn't really believe Steve McGarrett would understand and cooperate. However, as he was trying to come up with some more convincing argumentation, McGarrett responded with simple, "You got it." And ... he grabbed the toolbox and attempted to pass the detective, who was blocking the only way out of the garage.

Now, that was not only unexpected, but also outrageous.

"And you can leave the box!" Danny managed to latch onto McGarrett's arm. He had no business getting physical with the man, he didn't want to hurt him and risk a lawsuit but he couldn't let him simply walk out. "That is evidence and you know that."

McGarrett shrugged and said with an arrogant smirk, "I came with this."

"No, you didn't come with it." Danny made a mistake of turning away and pointing at the counter, at the same time loosening his grip. "I see the dust-void it left right here. What's in the box?-" When he turned back to the man, McGarrett was three steps away and closer to the doorway.

"How long have you been with the Honolulu PD?" he asked, still with that smirk, his eyes laser-sharp.

This shouldn't have mattered. This shouldn't have been an issue, but it was. Each time. Danny sighed with exasperation.

"It's none of your damn business," he uttered.

"You know, it is my business if you're investigating my father's death."

"I am. And I'd like to get back to that, so the sooner you leave the sooner I can." He no longer knew if he was asking or telling. He no longer had control of the situation - if he ever had it to begin with.

"Anything you say." McGarrett bowed curtly and turned for the door again, switching the box from his left to his right hand.

Danny couldn't let him take the evidence.

"Leave the box or get arrested!" His feet carried him after McGarrett and, as he was about to grab the taller man's arm, he spun around and his fist connected with Danny's jaw in a perfect left hook.

It was a strong hit. Danny's world went black for a blink of an eye and when the fog in his head dissipated he found himself crouching on the floor. It took another moment to scramble to his feet and when he ran out of the house after McGarrett, all he had left to admire were red tail lights in the distance.

t.b.c.

Thank you for reading. :)