The Other Side

by LMR

Disclaimer: Dick Wolf created the show, which I am very grateful for. And I am infinitely grateful to VDO and KE for these wonderful characters. I am also very grateful to these two for making me the undisputed champ of "7 Steps to Kevin Bacon" in my group of friends. I mean, you can get to anybody with two steps!

Thank you so much for your reviews!

A.N.: Revised from first posting to reveal Eames's wicked plot.

Chapter 4: The Chapter These Jerks Forced Me To Write (the first one, anyway)

xXx

11th Floor - One Police Plaza - 7:34 a.m. Doink, doink.

Eames silently cursed her partner for all his "interesting" brain talk. Somehow she couldn't shake the irrational fear she'd found rattling around in her head that her gray matter would start leaking right out her ears.

"Logan or Wheeler sick?" Goren wondered, looking at the other detectives' empty chairs.

"No. It's their week off. Logan filed for this week a few months ago," she raised an eyebrow and smiled. "I think he's told everyone he's seen right down to every cab driver in the city, Mr. Ever-observant yet clueless." He smiled at the insult. She rolled this thought over in her mind for a moment. "So for this week, we are Major Case Squad, huh? Nice." She tapped at her computer. "Only one Lennan A. in the city. Lennan Alman. No home number, I'm gonna call his work. He's an attendant at 'Edgar's Suits Shop' a few blocks from the Burrows. She looked at her partner, who seemed a little distracted. "Something wrong, Bobby?"

He shook it off. "Sorry, I got this weird bit of déjà vu, no big deal."

She shrugged. Once in a while, there was no talking to him. He was temporarily disconnected at the moment. She'd try later.

"Hello, this is Detective Eames with Major Case Squad, NYPD, and we need to locate one of your employees, Lennan Alman. No, he's a person of interest in a case. We need to- You don't know?" she repeated, disbelieving. "He just up and left? Well where are you sending his paychecks?" she tried to keep her voice friendly. "PO box, of course. Thank you," she finished, her tone completely without gratitude. She turned to her partner. "Loyal bastard. He knows. I can tell, and he's not telling the fuzz. Said his employees aren't going to talk to us, either. This is going to be fun." She paused, a somewhat evil smirk on her face. "You know, this place opens at seven..." She shot him a look. Up for a game?

xXx

Edgar's Suit Shop - 64 Groaner St. - 7:40 a.m. Doink, doink. (Yes, I do have to type it out every single time.)

Goren whined, "Oh, Hon, I don't need a nee-" Eames dragged him into the posh store by the arm.

"Oh, shush, you know you do." She smiled at the salesgirl, still restraining her ersatz husband, holding him tightly to her as if she feared he would bolt at any moment. "Hi, Miss Ash," she said sweetly, seeing the nametag. "My husband needs some new su- Yes, you do," she insisted under her breath to a sulking Goren. He was wearing casual clothes now - Not a chance his suits would pass for old and tattered. They headed for the counter, to the side of the front window.

If Miss Ash was any indication, they figured, Lennan had a good income. She was immaculately dressed, and even with an employee discount, her clothes were too nice to have come cheap. Her red hair was professionally cut and curled. A matching ruby ring and necklace made a case-closing argument that this was a well-off woman.

"Can't we just go buy you some new shoes or something? Wouldn't that get it our of your system?" he asked petulantly.

Eames rolled her eyes. "They're impossible, aren't they?" she appealed to the salesgirl, tapping her fingers on a sleek counter covered in tie racks. "You should see the ratty old things he wears."

"But why did we have to come all the way out here?" he grumbled, trying to hang back from the counter. Eames dragged him back to her, putting on a stretched smile.

"Bonnie. told. me." She said this in the I've told you this a hundred times, pay attention voice that only a woman can make. "That her husband got his suits here, and it was the best, most helpful place he'd been. She said it's worth the drive."

The salesgirl smiled politely. "Bonnie gave us a name," Eames said, turning her attention to the her. "Umm," she struggled with it, snapping her fingers and gesturing at her husband to help her think of it. "Something weird. Brennan?"

"Leonard," Goren offered.

"No, Bob, it didn't have a 'd,' I know that." Eames gave his arm a light smack.

He threw his head back, feining frustration. "It was Leonard."

"Memory's the first thing to go," she quipped. "Well, second, maybe," she amended, running a hand through the random gray spots that had, incidentally, started showing about the same time Nathan had started showing. She smiled disarmingly, daring him to call her on the taunt later.

"That'll be Lennan," the young woman said, enough displeasure in her voice to tell the detectives that the store ran on commission. Act like we're going to buy a lot of stuff, Eames thought, and she'll tell me anything. "He's not here right now."

"Oh, that's a shame," Eames said, sounding sincere. "Maybe we should just come back later, when-"

"Urrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrggh."

"Thank you for your input, Dear," she threw over her shoulder. "When will he be back? Tomorrow, maybe?" She formed her face into an expression of mixed disappointment and hope.

"Not for a while," the girl said brusquely. "I'm sure I could help you and your husband with whatever you need." She gestured for Goren to follow her to the back of the store where she started looking through the big and tall racks. He detached himself from Eames and reluctantly headed for the racks. "Now with your shape, I would suggest-"

"Oh, I don't want help, I just- can't I just try them on? On my own?" He was being as annoyingly exasperating as possible.

"Just let her help you, Bob," Eames sighed, knowing full well that he would manage to irritate her right out of the dressing area in no time without her help.

"Ahh-lex, I don't want help! I just- Hey!" He pulled his arm sharply away from Linda, who'd been trying to roll up his sleeve to estimate the best cut for a dress shirt. That's a good excuse, anyway, the girl figured.

He gave Ash a wounded look that reminded her of a tomcat that had been whacked upside the head by a kitten. "I'll do it myself," he whined.

Miss Linda Ash ran her fingers through her red hair, her ring flashing under the bright lights, the rest of her shrinking under the evil death-glare of Bob the Annoying-as-Heck-Yuppie-Scuz. "Fine with me," she said with a strained smile. "And if you need any spring outfits, the light colored pants and the, um, short-sleeved dress shirts are over there." She pointed toward the display at the front of the store.

"Sorry about him, Miss," Eames intoned once Goren had started fumbling around with the suits. "You got one of those?" she wondered conversationally.

"Not yet, and you can call me Linda."

"Huh. Bonnie, my friend, she's kind of a gossip. She told me that Lennie seemed to be pretty interested in one of the girls here..." she smiled mischievously and gestured toward the salesgirl. "You?"

"No," the girl said plainly.

"Well, she also said he mentioned a girlfriend. Men." She looked at the woman appraisingly. "You look tired." She glanced back at Bobby, wearing a nice dress shirt and jacket. "Oh, no, Hon, that's no good at all. Try one of those," she gestured absently toward the front window, at the outfits the girl had indicated for spring wear. Back to Linda. "Have you been working extra?" she asked sympathetically. The girl nodded noncommittally. "That's bad for your health, you know. When I worked in a clothing store, they ran me ragged. There was this punk who never bothered to show up, and I got stuck with all his shifts."

The woman sighed with familiarity. "Yes! It is so agg-" She suddenly looked guilty. "Sorry, I shouldn't vent on our guests."

"Oh, hon, I worked retail, too. I hear ya'. The snobs that come in." She shook her head wearily. "Bob's... I'm sorry. He's really not a snob, he comes across kind of... well he's an ac-"

"What about this one?" Goren called, this time in a long-sleeved but somewhat lighter shirt.

"Better," she said, giving him an appraising look. "But remember the weather's getting warmer now," she pointed out, gesturing toward a different rack. She turned her attention back to Linda as Goren fumbled through the short-sleeved shirts Eames had indicated. "Bennie's shifts, huh?"

Linda looked hesitant, but nodded. "Man, if I were you," Eames advised, "I would find out where he got to and knock him senseless."

Linda just shrugged. "No idea where he is."

Eames laughed unfunnily. "Might be living in a cardboard box. I mean, if he just up and left his job..."

"He doesn't need this job. Parents are filthy stinkin' rich. And so self-absorbed. I mean, they just bought a second home. Good grief, there are people who don't have one, how can a person be so selfish, anyway?" Linda suddenly looked self-conscious, stared down at the dull beige carpeting. "Sorry about the soap box."

Eames gestured openly. "No worries, I completely agree. Where on earth would a person live for just a season, anyway?" she tossed off, examining a tie clip on the rack in front of her.

"Mostly islands, I guess. Their's is in Amityville, though. Snob city."

"Huh. You about done, Bob?" she called.

"Yup. How do I look?" Goren asked from across the room. He was wearing a short-sleeved dress shirt that had to have been a size too small and a pair of dark gray dress pants that were about three sizes too big around the middle, but were far too short. Black and white wingtips completed the outfit, along with bright green suspenders and a blue and purple polka dot tie.

Trying not to laugh, Eames looked him over. "You really don't want to know what I'm thinking," she said honestly. You'd turn fifteen shades of red.

He grinned, then picked up a regular and rather nice-looking dress shirt from where it had been hanging in the changing room. "I'll take this," he told Linda in his normal voice.

Eames's jaw dropped. What the?!

"Well, I was such a jerk, I should by something from her," he pointed out quietly. "What, it's a nice shirt." He set the items on the counter with his card, gave Linda a charming smile, then headed back for the changing room.

Linda was rattled by the change. "He's very...um..."

"Yeah, I'd say 'um' sums it up. Thanks for your help...well, for trying to help, anyway," she was sure to add.

xXx

Next time:

"'And you see that, right there, that little mark. It looks to me like a little heart... that somebody tried to slaughter. Now that tells me this breakup wasn't so peaceful.'"

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