Chapter 7:
I Just Can't Imagine
"Moyer and Sanchez?" Fritz asked again.
Brenda shut the fridge and leveled a look at him. "Yes. Moyer. And. Sanchez."
"Are you sure?"
She didn't even turn to face him this time. She continued to riffle through the cabinets. "I am sure," she told him.
Fritz shook his head. "I just can't see..." She didn't let him finish his thought before she threw up her hand.
"I assure you, yes, Moyer and Sanchez. Together."
"Of all people-I just cannot imagine them together..." his voice trailed off as she came to stand just under his chin.
"I don't have to imagine them together. My team has no illusions left. There are no secrets. Half of the damned police force in this city will have-from now on-no problems imagining them together. Now, can we drop this please? I really and truly do not want to continue this conversation."
"Okay, sure, Brenda." He shook his head as he poured wine for both of them. "I just have to figure out how to look at them without letting them know I know when I see them again."
Brenda put her head on the table top and screamed.
Her team had been conducting surveillance on a suspected murderess's hotel room. Not all of the team, however. They'd played it in six hour shifts. Plus several people had asked off for the weekend. It was a holiday after all. And people who worked sixty hours a week for crappy pay deserved a break.
Well, apparently two of her detectives thought so, too.
The grieving widow had taken a room in the new luxury hotel that had opened the month before. So LAPD took over the room across the hall as well as a room in the hotel across the street.
And two of LAPD's finest had also booked a suite for the weekend, intending to take advantage of the five-star dining establishment and the super-jet whirlpool and full-sized balcony that had been advertised.
And they proceeded to do so, not realizing just how damning the evidence would be. That evidence being collected by their teammates in the room next door who were unable to drown out the sounds of their...um...enjoyment of the accommodations.
It wasn't tee-totally over-the-top embarrassing (because listening to a couple's intimate relations wasn't bad enough) until they'd run into the couple in the hallway. Brenda, Provenza, and Gregory returning from a meal. Sanchez and Moyer deciding whether they could stay apart long enough to make it through a sit-down meal. Wrapped around each other against their hotel door. Apparently they'd opted not to go out, because Sanchez had reached around Moyer to unlock the door and the couple had disappeared again without ever realizing anyone else was in the hall.
"Tell me I didn't just see that," Brenda ordered the men flanking her.
Provenza actually walked forward and leaned toward the door, listening.
"I don't think they're going to make their reservation," he announced.
Gregory rubbed his eyes. "I think I maybe was just struck blind. My retinas have been damaged. Do I look different to you? Because I feel different. I feel..."
"Dirty?" Provenza asked.
"Dirty works," the other man agreed. The light bulb dawned. "Oh, man! This means we've been listening to them for the past thirty-eight hours! Oh my God!"
"Oh, please don't go there," Brenda begged, shaking her head. She closed her eyes and willed the bad dream away.
When she opened them both men were still standing there.
"I guess that's why neither one answered their cells phones," Provenza suggested. "You want that I should give it a knock and let 'em know they can take a shift when they have some free time?"
Gregory cleared his throat. "I think maybe we want to work it so that they're not on the same shift."
Brenda glared at him again.
"Seriously, how do you want us to handle this, boss?" Gregory asked her.
"I do not want to handle this at all. We are here doing a job. Neither Moyer nor Sanchez is on duty, they have no reason to be on duty, and every officer on the force is entitled to his or her R&R. They are not here, we are not here. Do you understand me gentlemen?"
Provenza tried to stop smiling. "Got it, boss."
"Got it," Gregory echoed.
