A/N: This one takes place about two years after 'Unconventional'.
Mary Lynne Andrews was a woman on a mission as she stormed into the Narcotics bullpen, her evening gown bellowing out and making her look like an angel of vengeance or something else equally frightening.
The men and women who worked that floor all looked up when they heard the telltale click of her heels on the linoleum as she made her way to the back of the bullpen, to the desk of one Detective Robert Goren. She stopped a foot away from his desk, her deep purple gown draping around her majestically as she stood there with a look of anger on her face.
All of them knew her. Within three weeks of getting transferred to Narcotics, the new ones met her. Mary Lynne Andrews was one of the nicest women any of the cops on the squad knew. And she was also one of the scariest to cross. When she was disappointed in you, it hurt worse than getting yelled at by your parents or favorite teacher.
Without looking up, Bobby asked her, "How'd you get past the guards?"
"They like me," she replied, the anger evident in her voice. "Do you know what time it is, Robert?" Everyone in hearing distance winced, knowing that Lynne only resorted to full first names when she was really upset.
He glanced at the clock, "Six thirty-five."
"Do you know what day it is?" Lynne asked, annoyed at Bobby's casual nature.
"August 23rd… oh," quickly, Bobby closed the file he was filling out and started getting his things together.
"I've been waiting in that damn car for the past half an hour for you, Bobby!"
He frowned, "Sorry. I lost track of the time."
Her eyes softened, knowing how common an occurrence that was, "Your suit's in the car, you can change before we leave. But hurry up - Michael's going to be very disappointed if we're late."
Bobby nodded, pulling on his suit jacket as they headed toward the elevators, "It starts at seven, right?"
"No, they close the doors at seven, but it doesn't technically start until seven-fifteen," Lynne reminded him as they waited for the elevator to open. Soon they were on their way to the ground floor.
---
Michael paced back and forth across the stage; still covered by the thick, red curtain the crew had named 'Charlie' since it had been installed two years before. He was nervous. There was no other way around it: Michael Andrews was clammy-hands-revved-up-heartbeat-forget-your-lines nervous.
And to top it all off – Lynne and Bobby had said they'd stop by backstage to wish him luck before the show started and they weren't there yet! Bobby was the main reason he got the part in the first place. If they forgot that it was his opening night … Michael wasn't sure he'd be able to pull off his part.
Just then he saw a flash of purple fabric that was the same Lynne's dress was made with. He walked toward it and was relieved to find his sister and friend standing in the right wing, waiting to see him before he went on.
"Hey, Lynne, Bobby, you made it!" Michael said as he hugged his sister. "I was worried you wouldn't."
Lynne smiled, "Yeah, well, Mr. Hot Shot over here wouldn't have if I hadn't picked him up. He's neck deep in a case right now and forgot what day it is."
Michael gave Bobby a hug, "Well, maybe the play will give you a fresh perspective to look from. I'm glad you made it in any case."
Bobby smiled softly back at the younger man, "No problem, Michael. Lynne's right though, I wouldn't have remember about tonight until half way through the play if she hadn't come storming through the bullpen in search of me."
"Yeah, well thanks for showing. I mean, I based a lot of my performance on watching you interact with the perps."
"But the play's based off Sherlock Holmes," Bobby pointed out.
"And? But? So? Therefore? You're like Sherlock Holmes' love child with Einstein, Bobby," Michael said, causing the other man to blush. The stage manager glared at Michael, pointing to the clock to remind him that it was almost time to start. "Oh, sorry guys, but I think you'd better get out there now. It's almost time for the curtain to rise."
Lynne grinned at her brother, "Break a leg."
Michael nodded as he watched the pair walk out the side entrance, on their way to find their seats. "I'll try my best," he whispered, moving to take his place on stage at the table set up for Sherlock to eat at.
Here goes nothing, he thought as the audience lights dimmed, stage lights rose and the curtain opened to mid-century England …
At intermission, Lynne and Bobby made their way to the bar, to enjoy a nice glass of wine while talking about the acting and waiting for the second half to start.
Bobby was piecing together the crime for Lynne, to prove to her skeptical mind that he already had figured out who the murderer was, when a man came over and stood beside them. "You know, Goren, that it's not nice for the other viewers of the play to have the whole thing ruined by a profiler."
Bobby looked up at the slightly older man, "Deakins?"
The man nodded, one arm wrapped possessively around the woman at his side. "It's good to see you again, Bobby. Now, who's this woman you're spilling the beans to?"
Lynne smiled warmly as she held out her hand, "Mary Lynne Andrews. And Bobby's not spilling the beans, he's just explaining to me how he came up with the answer to the puzzle when I never found it until the last few moments before the killer's revealed."
Deakins shook her hand with a slight smile playing across his face, "Lt. Jimmy Deakins. This is my wife, Angie. It was my understanding that this was the first time this play has been put on in the city. How have you seen it before?"
"Oh, I helped my brother memorize his lines. This is nothing new for me, it's just … all put together now," Lynne said, the warm smile never leaving her face for more than a moment at a time.
Bobby grinned, "Her brother's playing Sherlock."
"Oh, I thought your name sounded familiar," Angie said, "You work for Armani don't you, Ms. Andrews?"
Lynne nodded, "It's Lynne, please, and yes, I do. I'm a primary designer for the business suit line. Not very many people I talk with on the street know that, Mrs. Deakins. How did you?"
Angie grinned, "Oh, call me Angie. I worked in the accounting department at Armani for several years. I just left a few months ago, actually."
"Really?" Lynne asked, finding this woman very fascinating and wonderful to talk to. She opened her mouth to say more, but the room started to empty as people began to flow back into the theatre for the second half of the play. "It was lovely talking to you," Lynne said. She pulled out a business card from her purse and handed it to Angie, "I'd rather like to have lunch with you some time, Angie. Just give me a call and we can set up a date."
Angie nodded and the Deakins watched the pair move into the throng. She turned to her husband, "Didn't you tell me that Bobby Goren had a thing for tall women?"
Jimmy shrugged, "Maybe he got over it. But I don't think they're dating."
Angie sighed as they started walking toward their seats, "Jimmy, darling, they're going to the theatre together … if they're not dating then I'm Joan of Arc."
"Shh, the play's starting again."
A/N: Ooohhh! Please review and tell me what you think! Oh, and if you have requests about a time in Bobby and Lynne's friendship that you want to read a story about, just ask. I decided to do all of the stories before 'How Does Bobby Afford all the Armani' before I continue with the story after it.
