AN: So, sorry for the wait. We had a livestock show we had to go to, and some friends from California staying over so I didn't have much time to write. Enjoy!
Monday morning dawned early for Horatio. He found himself in his office, shifting through the pile of paperwork that had managed to accrue over the weekend. He figured that half to three-quarters of his career had been devoted to paperwork. Filing, writing up reports, submitting articles, and, of course, filing for warrants. He remembered going down into the evidence archives, and they were quite large, but they had nothing on the sheer size and mass of the county's Criminal Archives. Every single piece of paper that had been written by an officer was copied, numbered, and filed away. Fortunately, the archive staff was very good at their job so any piece of information from past cases was readily available per request.
He looked up at the sudden knock on his door. An older man, his salt and pepper hair combed back stood there, freshly tanned knuckles having just gotten Horatio's attention. They were both dressed alike, but the man buttoned his shirt up all the way and wore a tie. Horatio preferred a more laid back appearance, but he did enjoy a bit of style. Miami was known for her style, and Horatio found that he enjoyed a well-made suit. He rose from his chair, a hand out to shake.
"Judge Mathers, it's very nice to see you again." He said, gladly shaking the Judge's hand. "How were the Keys?"
"Great, and I'm sorry about that." Mathers shrugged. "Should have let you guys know. Anyway, you give me that warrant, I'll review it and have it in to you by lunch."
"Actually, I'd prefer to get a little more evidence behind it. I'll bring it in later."
"You know what you do Horatio." The judge held up his hands. "I can review it whenever you want." Mathers laughed as he backed out of Horatio's office, and Horatio knew what the man would do now. He'd get into his office, papers filed neatly on his desk courtesy of Debbie. He would draw on his official robe, take the papers for his cases today, and spend the next few hours handing down sentences.
"Frank, get Dixon into an interview room." Horatio ordered, stepping out to get a cup of coffee from the break room. The balding Texan got up from his desk, already calling a few regular officers to bring the dealer in. H mixed a few packets of creamer and a couple envelopes of sugar into his coffee as he walked back to his office. He sipped it, then reached for the recorder he kept in his desk. With it primed to record he slipped it into his pocket. He reviewed the file on his desk, sliding it into his hand as he walked to the interview room. Dixon was sitting there, looking haggard. His blonde hair was greasy, eyes strained as he looked through the glass wall to Horatio. A gruff stubble had grown during the few days, and Horatio found himself glad that Dixon's appearance had deteriorated. The man might give him what he wanted for a shower and shave.
"Clay Dixon, brought in once before for possession." Horatio tossed the file onto the table, and held it open with one finger while he looked through the info. He pressed the record button on the reorder, ready for Dixon to sing. The silence began to build.
"I paid the fine last time." Clay grunted. "I can pay it again."
"Really? The fine this time," Horatio smirked as he closed the file. "is fifteen to twenty." Horatio had faced down cocky punks like this before, and Dixon had just admitted that he had been caught before. That meant he was sloppy. If Horatio pushed him the right way, he could get a piece of evidence that he could use.
"I'm sure I can cut a deal."
"You must have a lawyer coming." If lawyering up wasn't an admission of guilt, he didn't know what was.
"One of the best."
"Well, let's have a little chat before he gets here." Horatio looked out of the glass, towards the morning sun shining brightly in. It was a golden morning, the kind of morning that tempted the awake with a walk along the beach, a warm coffee, and a good book. He couldn't afford those luxuries. These mornings, he knew that beneath that golden glow lurked a darkness, an undercurrent of violence that ran through Miami. "Where'd the money come from?"
"That all you want?" Clay laughed, an arrogant sound. "Not my supplier, just the money?"
"I wouldn't even be getting involved unless there had been a murder. You'd usually be under Detective Tripp."
"Murder, well, there's not much I can tell you about that." Clay leaned back in his chair, lifting his cuffed hands. "But, if you cut me a deal-" He broke off as a shorter, thinly haired man burst in. From his high-priced suit and briefcase Horatio could only see this man as a lawyer.
"Not another word." The man snapped. "Lieutenant Caine, my client has no affliation with this case you are working. I know for a fact that you are looking for a murdering, and I can have witnesses in to attest to his location during the time of the murder."
"We found you client with over twenty thousand dollars, and I happen to have a murder that was committed to steal a racehorse to sell for that same amount of money. A racehorse that was sold by a person familiar to both your client," Horatio pointed at Clay, "and to my witness. Plus he also had a large quantity of cocaine on his person and was reported selling it. That alone is enough to keep him here."
"Are you just pulling every man with twenty-thousand dollars in?"
"Listen, the county attorney is coming in soon. Hash out the details with her, but he's going to give me the information that I want. In fact, there she is." Horatio put a hand on the man's shoulder to turn him towards the professional looking brunette coming towards them. The two of them walked off to the side of the hall, out of the room, spouting legal talk that Horatio couldn't quite follow. He turned back to his suspect.
"So, you want to know where the money came from?" Clay glanced towards his lawyer, still out in the hallway arguing. Horatio could see the desperation in his eyes, the desire to get out of there even if he disobeyed his legal counsel. "Gibson, it was Richard Gibson. He owed me, twenty large. Said he'd get a lot of clients at some big party he was hosting, needed a lot of blow. He didn't bring in any, and I was out twenty grand of product."
"And you needed him to kill Patrice Evans for the horse?"
"Hell no, Richard didn't kill anyone. Couple of my guys, think they're Tony Montana or some shit. They have a habit of bringing in pieces and trying to sell them, alongside the coke. They brought in a horse, and Richard was always going on about this guy he knew that ran a track. I told Rich, you sell this horse, give me the money, and we're square."
"Who are the two guys that brought the horse in?" Horatio asked, his attention captured.
"I'm not telling you that until my lawyer tells me that I'm off." Clay spat at him. "Enjoy trying to figure that one out."
Laila met her mother on the curb of her hotel, regretting that she had not bought the convertible version. She was dressed in a breezy blue dress, as opposed to her mother who was wearing an older blouse and jeans. As her mother stepped in she smiled. "Mom, don't you have anything, fun?"
"Fun?"
"You know, something you love but never wear that often?"
"No, I did not bring anything 'fun'." Denice sighed. Laila giggled behind her hand as she pulled out onto the road, quickly driving to the freeway. They had set up appointments at a spa, fully prepared for a day of relaxation. She pulled off the freeway and headed for downtown Miami, towards the ocean. Rising against the blue sky, its Art Deco lines of windows affording it amazing views of Biscayne Bay, the Miami Four Seasons was a combination of hotel and condo. For about five million, you could get yourself a large condo, facing the ocean, high up above the hotel aspect. You would have staff to wait on you and a full service spa at your disposal. It was to the spa that Laila now directed her mother.
"Isn't this a little ..." Denice trailed off as they stepped inside the lobby. "opulent for us?" Gray granite was cool underfoot as Laila greeted the spa clerk. Giving her name for the reservation, the clerk quickly directed them back to the locker rooms. Robes and sandals were waiting for them. She removed her dress, folded it, and placed it underneath her purse. Laila had decided to wear her bathing suit, and had told her mother to do the same.
"Mom, just let me get something nice for you." Laila said as she drew on her robe, sighing at the softness of the thing. Off from the locker room was a sauna, private pool, and a whirlpool. Their treatments would start in a little while, until then they could relax. They went into the sauna, and Laila leaned back onto the wooden bench. It was blissfully warm, and with no humidity too. That wasn't something you often go in Florida. "So, how's Conger been?"
"Oh, you would not believe what has happened since you left. Jennie, Michael Crowley's daughter, she just got caught sneaking out with Trey King. Turns out she's four weeks late, and Michael is already forcing Trey to marry her. It was either that or he would have shot him. And Debbie was supposed to head off to TCU but then her mother found a stash of diet pills that she had been using. Oh, and-" Laila knew Denice wouldn't stop for awhile. She just let her go on, laughing at the little exploits of Conger. Apparently a married woman, her mother wouldn't say who, had been caught with the Reverend in his office, and her mother had already moved their flight up to Wednesday to get back and enjoy the scandal.
"You're leaving so soon?" Laila was shocked. She thought they would have stayed longer, she could have shown them so much more. The Miami art museum, beach, heck they could even come to The Speak. She wanted them to see how she was happy, what was going on in her life. She wanted them to see how kind Horatio was, how he cared for her. She wanted them to like him. She wanted their approval, just as every child does. She wanted to be told that she had made a good choice, that her parents were proud of her.
Did the social needs of Conger outweigh her needs?
No, no you're just being selfish. You've had them here for a few days, and it's been wonderful. You shouldn't hog them to yourself, let them go home. The more work Dad gets at the shop, and the more Mom can get those ladies into the bakery and charge them for every cookie and coffee, the sooner they can come back. Or the sooner you can go home, and possibly bring Horatio.
"I know it's not as long as we thought it would be, but we do have to go back." Denice said, her expression remorseful. "And, it seems that you've got everything under control down here." Laila laughed, but it was a hollow laugh. A laugh that only came about because she knew she wouldn't be able to change their plans. She leaned back then glanced up when the door opened. Two therapists stood there, both women.
"Hello, are you Laila and Denice Collins?" One of them asked. The nodded. "We're your therapists, I'm Michelle and this is Mikaela. If you would come with us, your scrubs are ready." Laila followed Michelle to a small room, the sound of waves crashing emanating softly from a speaker. It contained an area for her to change, a chair, and a large table. Hanging over the table was a metal rod, seven different shower heads hanging over the table. A metal curve ran around the table, and led to a drain. Michelle left her to change and get on the table. She untied the back of her top, letting it hang from her neck. She carefully arranged herself on the table, arms to her side and face cushioned by a pillow. When Michelle knocked, she called her in.
"Oh, you're all ready." Michelle bubbled happily. Laila could hear bottles clinking, bowls clacking as she brought them over to the table. "We're just going to get you started with some nice warm water." The therapist lifted a small plastic sheet over her hips, even for a full body treatment some areas were off limits. The shower heads started, a nice pulsing stream of water. Michelle guided the heads, occasionally running her hands down Laila's back to make sure her entire body got wet. Laila couldn't really see anything, her eyes had drifted shut as soon as the water turned on. The pressure from the Vichy shower felt like a massage, so relaxing. She could hear the water turn off. What she could feel though was a pair of hands, coated in a rough concoction of salt and herbs, scrubbing her back down. The bubbly little therapist kept up a stream of quiet chatter, discussing all the different attributes the salt and herbs had, and how exactly they would benefit her skin. Michelle obviously knew what she was doing, running her hands over Laila's back, sloughing off dead skin.
With a sigh, Laila gave herself over to the pleasure of having everything stripped off so that the new could come through.
The county attorney walked into Horatio's office with a huff. She sat in the armchair he kept in the corner, an old chair that had been in his office since he started working. It had probably been there years before he had even come. It was ripped, scuffed, and clashed with the new, modern decor of the lab. It was also the most comfortable thing he had ever sat in. For that sole reason it had survived Natalia's inquisition, where old furniture had been taken out and donated to charity. When Natalia had offered him some fancy ergonomic chair, he had politely declined. The modern chair, black leather and chrome, was not what he needed. Natalia could get the entire lab redone, new equipment for every department, but the chair stayed.
"Cathy, you look stressed." Horatio observed, looking up from his computer. He had been typing up a report of the new information the Dixon had given him, transcribing the audio word by word. The report would be printed out later, and attached to the file. The file would probably be submitted to the court as a piece of key evidence in the trial, so the report needed to lay out the evidence in a clear, concise manner that anyone could follow.
"No shit." Cathy retorted, leaning back in the chair. "Freaking Will D'Angelo is stonewalling me at every turn." Cathy's head jerked up, her eyes catching Horatio. "You couldn't arrest him for any reason, could you? Obstructing justice?"
"He hasn't given any reason. Just doing his job."
"Can you arrest him for that?"
"No, as much as I would like to." Horatio grunted. He looked at the warrant on his desk. "But there's a way to get around him. He's got clients, and clients know other dealers in his little circle." Horatio lifted the warrant for Cathy to see. "And I know of one of them. I just happen have a warrant here to search his residence for any and all drugs and drug paraphernalia. Backed up by Dixon confirming the suspicion on tape."
"Horatio Caine, you devil." Cathy chided, her eyes fastening on the warrant. "I want to be there when you haul this guy in. No way am I letting you have all the fun." Horatio assured her that he would make sure she was present, but that he really needed to go see the Judge to get the warrant approved. Cathy walked out, and Horatio left Eric in charge of the lab while he got the warrant filed.
"You need anything else H?" Eric asked when he told him. Eric was in the layout room, evidence from a different case spread out along the lit up table. Horatio noted clothes, shoes, belts, and jewelry on the table, photographs of a deceased jewelry salesman against the wall. Everything in the layout room had lights behind it, the light helped show every single detail.
"Just watch the lab Eric." Horatio told him. There wasn't much to it, just making sure that everyone was doing their job. Eric could even keep working on this case until he had a break, then he could make a quick round of the lab.
"You got it, boss." Eric gave him a mocking salute, then bent over to examine the light blue fabric he had stretched out with a magnifying glass. From the blood stains on it, it was obviously the salesman's. Horatio leaned over, quickly spotting a piece of evidence on the left edge, where Eric hadn't checked yet.
"Fiber on the lower left corner." He told him, letting the flustered criminologist wonder how he hadn't noticed that sooner.