Chapter 4
3:31 PM; Hour 5
Oliver rotated his sore arm slightly while he waited for the Emergency Room tech to hand him the paperwork to sign. This whole thing was ridiculous. Diggle and Felicity had insisted that he go to the hospital over a tiny gunshot wound in his shoulder. He'd been right: it was a through-and-through. All the doctor had done was clean the wound and stitch it up. Not a big deal.
Yet here he was, almost an hour and a half later, and he was still waiting for the release paperwork.
It was as if these people didn't understand he was trying to solve a murder and prevent a bunch more. Every minute counted.
He sighed in irritation when the tech finally handed him a clipboard full of papers to sign. He saw the tech frown, but he really didn't care.
Five minutes later, he was finally free. The doctor had said he was lucky the bullet had passed through one of the few fleshy parts of his bicep – not doing any real damage to any muscles. His bandaged shoulder throbbed a little since he'd refused the pain meds the doctor offered. SCPD protocol said anyone on narcotics had to be placed on medical leave for the duration of the prescription. Oliver had opted for a few ibuprofen tablets instead, much to the doctor's dismay, and then asked again for the release paperwork.
He shrugged into his leather jacket that the tech had kindly wiped free of blood for him while she waited for him to sign all the paperwork, then walked out of the ER and into the waiting room.
He noticed Felicity off to the left side right away. She was biting one of her nails and her knee was bouncing slightly as she watched people coming in and out of the front doors. No sign of Diggle.
Oliver approached her and cleared his throat. Her head snapped towards him and he saw her suck in a breath. Her eyes looked anxious and a little bloodshot. The way she looked at him made his stomach sink. Had something happened? Why was she staring at him like she was about to cry? Why did the sight of her looking like that make his veins fill with ice?
"Oliver," she breathed in a choked voice, rising from her chair. She came towards him, her eyes scanning over his body. "Are you ok? What did the doctor say? They wouldn't tell us anything because we weren't family and I thought …" Her eyes looked up at his and Oliver stopped breathing for a second. That concern in her eyes was for him? That devastated look on her face was because she was worried about him?
She looked from his eyes to his shoulder, her lips trembling so slightly that he might have missed it if he didn't happen to be looking at them. "You saved my life for real." Her eyes connected with his again, and in them he saw the same intense look he saw just before they left Ivy Town and Diggle had raced him to the nearest hospital. It was a look full of vulnerability and regret.
He didn't like that look on her face. He wanted it gone.
"You saved my life, and you got hurt because of it," she whispered, tearing her eyes from his and staring at his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Oliver. I should have -"
"Hey, look at me." He cut her off by placing his hands firmly on her shoulders. She reluctantly looked back up at his face, and something tugged at his cold heart when he saw a slight shimmer in her eyes – like she was trying not to cry. "I'm fine. It was nothing."
"You were shot!" she protested weakly.
"I've had worse," he dismissed. He frowned when her face fell as if that statement made her unhappy. "Felicity." He slid his hands so that they were closer to the sides of her neck instead and he could force her to look at him. "I'm ok. And even if it was painful – which it's not," he assured her, only stretching the truth slightly, "I'd do it again."
Her lips fell open slightly. He was taken off guard when she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. He dropped his hands from her shoulders and his arms fell limply to his sides in surprise. He felt her hands rest on his back and pull him tightly against her body. She turned her head so it rested against his good shoulder. There were multiple layers of clothes between them, but Oliver felt a pleasant warmth spreading out from every place they touched. His brain on autopilot because he was too surprised to think of much of anything besides the tingle of her warm breath ghosting over his neck, he lifted his hands to lay them against her back.
His breathing slowed, but his heart rate sped up. They stood like that for a few seconds, wrapped close enough together to feel the rise and fall of the other's chest. It had been a long time since anyone had hugged him. Years even. It felt… good.
"Thank you," she whispered, pulling back from him. The sincerity in her eyes and the way her rosy lips turned up slightly transfixed him. His consciousness clouded over with the desire to touch her. He wondered if her eyes would flutter closed if he ran his thumb over the few scattered freckles across her nose and cheeks. He wondered if her lips would part if he touched his fingertips along her jaw. He wondered if her skin was as soft and warm as it looked. He wondered what else could turn her cheeks pink besides the cold wind.
"You guys ready to go?"
Oliver jerked away from Felicity and jumped back. He looked up to see Diggle with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.
"I pulled the SUV up to the door in case they made you leave in a wheelchair," Diggle continued, his annoying smirk basically branded onto his face at this point.
Oliver stuffed his hands into his pockets and rolled his eyes. "I'm fine. Let's go." Careful to avoid looking at Felicity, he turned and stalked towards the automatic doors that led outside. He heard Diggle mumble something lightly and Felicity laugh a little in response. Her laugh sounded a little off though – like she'd just run a marathon and was out of breath. He ignored them and continued through the doors and into the cold January air outside.
God, what the hell was wrong with him? He'd let Felicity hug him and then…. The things he was thinking about? He didn't wonder things like that about women he worked with. He didn't think about their eyes, their lips, or their skin. He didn't get close to them and he definitely didn't hug them. Hell, he didn't even think things like that about the women he casually dated or went home with for a quick fuck. He must have been losing his mind.
He got to the car and yanked the back door open in frustration before sliding into the seat. He needed to get ahold of himself. Maybe Diggle was right. There was something about Felicity that had him off balance. Diggle had started saying it months ago when Felicity had first helped them on a case, but Oliver had blown him off. But now…maybe there was something to it. When he was around her, it was like all his plans and procedures – all his intentions to stay objective and professional – were just gone. So gone that he didn't even notice they were missing.
The front two doors opened and Diggle and Felicity climbed in. "Wow Oliver, you were really in a rush to get out of there," Diggle deadpanned, connecting his mischievous eyes with Oliver's in the rearview mirror just to taunt him some more.
Oliver glared at him and then refocused his eyes out the front windshield. "That's because we're supposed to be working. I was in there for a couple hours. Catch me up on what I missed."
Oliver noticed that Felicity was staring out the window away from him and her cheeks were a little pink. Was it from the cold again?
"No sign of that SUV that shot at you," Diggle began. "But Ivy Town PD is searching. That neighborhood we were in was only minutes from the interstate, so it's likely they're long gone."
Oliver nodded. He figured that would be the case as soon as Diggle and Felicity had refused to chase the shooter in favor of taking him to the hospital. Just another example of personal feelings getting in the way of the job.
"Lyla got us the warrant for Bertinelli's records," Diggle continued. "She wants us to go there first. She sent a team out to canvass Laurel's neighborhood for information on when she might have disappeared. Nothing yet that I know of. And Felicity," he turned to look at the woman next to him, "figured out Laurel's passcode in about 15 seconds and was going through her phone in the waiting room."
"It was the year she was born. She really should have made it something a little harder to figure out," Felicity murmured.
"And?" Oliver questioned.
Felicity turned to look at him briefly. "Other than a slight addiction to online shopping for belt buckles, I didn't see anything out of the ordinary."
"Nothing suspicious on her calendar? No text messages or emails that raised red flags?" Oliver probed as Diggle started the SUV and began driving.
"Nothing," Felicity sighed. "Her last message was to her dad on Wednesday night. She told him not to wear his green tie to the banquet because she hates green."
"Huh," Oliver mused, his eyebrows furrowing in thought.
"I know right? Green is one of the best colors on a man." She paused and turned to look at him quickly. "Not that I'd think of Detective Lance that way! I mean sure he's good looking in an objective, older man way and he can make that whole retired cop thing work for him." She looked at Diggle, and Oliver could practically see her cringing inside. "I'd never think that, obviously, he's old enough to be my father. I just meant someone might think that. Anyone really. Anyone but me. I'm going to stop talking now."
"Ok," Diggle chirped happily, smiling widely.
"I was actually referring to the timing of her last text," Oliver stated with amusement. He'd heard her babble like that on occasion, always making her statements more awkward or innuendo laden by accident the more she talked. He felt an odd thrill every time it happened and he watched her get that flustered look on her face. "If she sent it to her dad Wednesday night, then we can narrow down the time of death to probably sometimes between Wednesday night and Thursday afternoon."
"I thought the same thing," Felicity confirmed. Her phone vibrated and she quickly pulled it out and entered her passcode. Oliver watched her scan whatever it was with a frown. "Ivy Town PD finished their initial toxicology report." Oliver raised his eyebrows and she passed him her phone. "Cause of death was a neurotoxin called batrachotoxin. It's found primarily in poison dart frogs and a bird called the hooded pitohui."
Oliver hummed as he scanned through the report. "A poisonous bird? Could have a connection to the bird feathers."
"Could be. The toxin causes paralysis and eventual cardiac arrest."
"Any idea how the toxin got into Laurel's system?" Diggle asked while keeping his eyes on the road ahead of him.
"Nothing definitive," Felicity answered. She motioned for Oliver to scroll down more. "There were elevated levels of alcohol in her bloodstream though and a specific synthetic dye commonly used in food coloring."
"Or mixed drinks," Oliver added.
"Or mixed drinks," Felicity confirmed.
"So let's say Laurel went out Wednesday night and the killer slipped the poison into her drink. Would it work fast enough to fit with the timeline of her death?"
Felicity nodded. "Depending on the amount of the toxin she ingested, the paralysis could have started to take effect within minutes."
Oliver locked the phone and handed it back to her. "I want you to find every bar or club nearby that would have been open on Wednesday night and crowded enough that a potential killer could blend in without being remembered."
"On it."
For the rest of the trip, Oliver, Felicity, and Diggle talked about their two leads: Bertinelli Hardware and the fact that Laurel was most likely out drinking the night she died. First on the agenda was visiting Frank Bertinelli's shop to try to get some information on whether anyone had been in recently to buy common ingredients for homemade explosives. After that, they could worry about trying to pinpoint where Laurel was when she was drugged.
When they finally parked in front of the hardware store, Oliver was ready to get some answers. Felicity opened her door and swung her legs around to hop out of her seat. Oliver stopped her by putting a hand on her shoulder. "Felicity," he called.
She stilled and twisted around to look at him expectantly.
Oliver swallowed. He couldn't afford distractions on this. And if his own erratic behavior today was any indication, taking Felicity to meet Frank Bertinelli, head of Star City's Italian Mafia family, would turn out to be very distracting. "Maybe you should stay in the car."
He hadn't expected the way his stomach would fill with acid when her face fell.
"Oh," she supplied quickly, nodding. "Of course. I'm not really needed in there and I'd probably just get in the way or be a distraction." Her voice sounded off.
"Exactly," Oliver nodded, relieved that she understood. The case had to come first, and for whatever reason, he had a hard time keeping that in mind when she was around. A job was still a job. He needed a reminder of that.
He frowned when he saw her eyes dim and her jaw tighten. She turned away from him and started fiddling with her phone. He glanced at Diggle who just shook his head at Oliver and got out of the SUV. Oliver followed his lead, throwing one last perplexed look at Felicity before shutting his door.
"You're a real ass, you know that?" Diggle said as he fell into step next to Oliver.
Oliver narrowed his eyes. "You're the one who keeps saying I'm not myself when she's around."
Diggle opened the store's door, and they walked inside. "I never said that was a bad thing. I also didn't mean that you should sideline her and basically tell her she wasn't important to this investigation."
"I never said -"
"Can I help you gentlemen?" the clerk spoke up as they approached the counter, interrupting Oliver's protest.
"Yeah, we need to talk to Frank," Diggle said bleakly as he sat his badge down on the counter and pushed it towards the clerk. The young man gulped.
"He's uh…Mr. Bertinelli's not in."
Oliver rolled his eyes. His mood had soured and he didn't have the patience to play this game. "Listen kid, we know he's in the back playing one of his poker games. We're not here to arrest him. We just have some questions. Go get him."
The clerk gulped again and nodded. He disappeared through a door behind him.
Oliver turned back to Diggle. "Didn't you hear what I said to her? I never told her anything about not being important to the investigation."
"It was implied, Oliver," Diggle sighed.
"Like hell it was," Oliver denied. "I said she distracts me because when she's around I spend more time thinking about her or worrying about her than I do the case. God knows why. It's fucking with my mind and apparently my job."
"Really?" Diggle challenged. "Is that what you said? Because it's not what I heard."
"Detective Queen! Detective Diggle! To what do I owe the honor?" Frank Bertinelli emerged from the back room wiping his hands on a towel. Oliver and Diggle turned towards the man.
"Save the pleasantries, Frank," Oliver responded coolly. "As you might know, ADA Laurel Lance was found murdered this morning."
Frank's face didn't change. "Is that so? Tragic. She really was a promising young attorney."
"Interesting that you'd think that since she'd prosecuted you three times in the past five years," Diggle deadpanned.
Frank laughed humorlessly. "Yes, and yet here I am. She had promise because she was bad enough at what she did to ensure my freedom to me. I would have felt good about her as the district attorney in a few years when Blood retires."
Oliver felt his irritation rising. "All we need are your security videos and access to your purchase logs. Then we'll be out of your way. For now."
Frank eyed him. "I'm assuming you wouldn't dare make that demand without a warrant?"
Diggle smiled and pulled his phone from his pocket. With a few taps on the screen, he pulled up the copy of the warrant that Chief Michaels had emailed to him. He turned it towards the grey-haired man who eyed it carefully.
Frank looked up at Oliver and Diggle with a raised eyebrow. "I don't suppose I get to know why you need my records?"
"Have you had anyone in here looking to buy materials commonly used in making explosives?" Oliver questioned.
Frank narrowed his eyes. "You're going to have to be more specific. Half the things that are sold in here could, in theory, be used to make explosives," the older man hedged.
Oliver stared at him. Giving Frank Bertinelli more information than was necessary was never a good idea. The man had more connections than the SCPD even on their best day, and it was a guarantee that whatever information Bertinelli learned from this encounter, they would all know as soon as he disappeared into the back again. If the killer knew Bertinelli, he or she could be tipped off that the authorities were on their trail. "Just get us the records. We'll look for what we need."
Frank smirked. "Fine. How far back you want them?"
"Give us the past year, just to be safe," Diggle said evenly.
"And don't forget the security footage," Oliver added.
Frank's eyes flashed in irritation, then he disappeared into the back.
"What do you think?" Oliver murmured to Diggle while they waited.
Diggle shook his head. "Even if the killer bought supplies here, I doubt Frank knew. He's not that involved with the day-to-day operations."
Oliver nodded in agreement. It was pretty well known that this store was only a front for his illegal activities. Bertinelli was pretty good about covering his tracks though. It had been impossible to make any charges stick against him in the past.
Frank emerged carrying a large plastic tub. He sat it down on the counter with a smirk.
Oliver regarded the man with narrowed eyes. "And this is…?"
"My records," Bertinelli replied. He snapped the lid off and pointed inside. The tub was filled to the top with copies of purchase receipts. Some were folded over and crumbled up, others were lying flat. There was no order to the small slips of paper whatsoever.
"You can't be serious," Diggle said. Oliver reached in to pick up a few of the receipts. There were more underneath. The entire damn tote was filled with receipts. "These are all your records?" he demanded.
Frank looked scandalized. "Of course not! This bin is only from the past two months. If you want the past year, you're going to need 5 more of these."
Oliver's jaw tightened. "Well go get them," he gritted out. Fuck. It was going to take forever to go through all of these.
Bertinelli smiled and turned to head into the back again, but stopped when he heard the chime of the door opening. All three men turned to see Felicity standing just inside the door with her phone in her hand and a slightly panicked look on her face.
"Well, hello there," Frank greeted with a smarmy grin.
Oliver didn't have time to glare at Frank because he was too anxious about whatever it was she was about to say. She didn't waste any time.
"Oliver," she began, slightly out of breath, "There's been another murder."
