"You don't have to be in a hurry. You're already too late," Evans says. "On the other hand, you're not a bad looking guy. You might still have a shot."
Stewart is flustered. He tries and fails to close the partition between him and the waste of space sitting in the back.
"Lose that uniform. Buy yourself a decent suit, and some red suspenders," says Evans.
Fumbling with the partition, Stewart can feel his face getting warm. He yanks hard on the handle of the partition.
"Oh yeah, don't forget to get a pinky ring. That's what really does it for her."
Stewart manages to slam the partition shut as Evans bursts out laughing.
The officer behind the wheel says, "What the hell is he talking about?"
Stewart doesn't answer. He just rubs the back of his neck, staring straight ahead. Ten minutes later, the muffled sound of snoring can be heard behind them.
By the time Stewart makes his way into the mostly empty Murder Room in the early evening, his joints are stiff and uncomfortable. His muscles ache slightly from the hours spent sitting in the transport vehicle. Hanging back a bit, he watches Sharon walking with crutches to the edge of a desk. Flynn is sitting on the desk, fiddling with a jar full of coins. He takes the top off the jar, and pours half the money into a large, silver cup that looks like an old trophy.
Stewart hears Sharon say, "You know Provenza hates it when you mess with his things."
"Yeah, that's why I'm doing it," Andy replies.
She chuckles and reaches out to touch him on the shoulder. That's when the chief notices the bright red suspenders on the lieutenant who appears to be more than just the captain's subordinate.
"What am I going to do with you?" she says.
"Oh, I can think of lots of things," he says.
Before she can reply, the crutch slips out from under her right arm and clatters on the floor. Bending down to retrieve it, Andy says, "You don't really need this thing. Just lean on me."
Standing up straight with the crutch in his hand, the smile disappears from his face when he notices the chief. Stewart is focused on the red suspenders. He never even looks at Andy's face. Stewart feels as if Evans is mocking him, and the man isn't even in the room. Approaching the couple, Stewart's mood goes from bad to worse. Taking the crutch from Andy, Sharon pivots to see what he's staring at.
"Oh, hello Chief. Welcome to L.A.," she says. There's a moment of awkwardness when she extends her hand holding the crutch. Stewart doesn't know what he's supposed to do. "Oh, sorry," she says. Handing the crutch back to Andy, she shakes Stewart's hand and says, "How was your trip?"
"It was long, but worth it. I'm glad to be rid of Mark Evans."
Andy hands the crutch back to her before extending his arm to shake Stewart's hand. Looking down, there's more awkwardness when the chief notices Andy's ring. He stares at it for a few seconds before he realizes he needs to shake Andy's hand.
"Gentlemen, we need to talk but not here," she says. "I'm hungry. Let's go to dinner."
Andy's mood plummets when he hears her words. He knew Stewart was on his way with Evans, he didn't know Sharon was going to invite the chief to dine with them. Andy wants Sharon to himself. He doesn't want to share their evening with the man who gave her a huge bouquet of flowers, and who calls her often on the pretense of discussing the case. Andy knows his girlfriend is unaware of his suspicions about Chief Keith Stewart. He doesn't think she'd agree with his assessment of the situation. She is not always fully conscious of her own desirability. Andy thinks that's due to the years she spent married to a man more enamored of the bottle than her, and the years she has worked in an environment that demands she have a tough exterior and even tougher interior. Her seeming obliviousness of her charms is a substantial part of what makes her charming in Andy's opinion. He didn't always find her charming, but that was before he had the privilege of getting to know her.
Stewart works hard to make sure his attention is equally divided between the couple sitting across from him. His long, upsetting day with Mark Evans has him spooked that his thoughts and feelings about the captain are discernible. He doesn't want to appear to be ignoring Andy, but if it were up to him, Andy wouldn't be in the booth or the restaurant or the city or even on the planet with them. If it were up to him, he'd be alone with the intriguing woman sitting across from him.
He wishes he had just ordered room service and watched a movie in his hotel room instead of being the odd man out at dinner. It would have been easier than pretending nonchalance at the sight of the couple seated thigh-to-thigh in the tight space, and obviously enjoying each other in a relaxed, non-office setting. Andy's right arm is draped across the back of the booth with his fingers dangling near Sharon's bare arm. Stewart glances at Andy's ring glinting in the harsh lighting. The sight of it makes him cringe knowing he's inadvertently given Evans information that would be beyond embarrassing for others to know. Of course, he'll deny it if Evans decides to blab, but he's fully aware that as soon as that Pandora's box is opened it'll be impossible to put the information back inside.
Languidly trailing his fingertips across Sharon's skin, Andy studies Stewart. With each deliberate brush of fingers across flesh, Andy detects a range of emotions on the face of the man sitting across from him. Irritation, disappointment, sadness – it's all there. Evans knows he should stop staring at Andy's hand, but he can't. Andy almost feels sympathy for the guy. He's been there. He's experienced all those feelings and more for Sharon.
She irritated him to no end before she ever became his boss. She disappointed him when he wanted to talk about what she needed him for. He still remembers how his pulse raced when she invited him into her office and told him to shut the door. Tired of holding back, he was more than ready to talk about his complex feelings for her. He felt like he'd received a punch to the gut when he realized she only wanted to talk about how to handle Julio's issues. She evokes sadness in him when he thinks about how much time they wasted not being more than just friends; however, his sadness always gives way to profound happiness, gratitude, and wonder at the realization they are finally together. Stewart lifts his eyes to meet Andy's eyes. The two men stare at each other until Sharon innocently interrupts the moment by handing Stewart the bread basket.
Shooting him a grin, she says, "I wish I didn't love bread so much." Her genuine smile prompts Stewart to smile back. He can't help himself. He thinks he has never seen a more beautiful smile or a more beautiful woman.
"I'm hoping Mark Evans is capable of shedding some light on Stroh's deep connections to Craig and Lydia Cope and their retinue," says Sharon.
Spreading butter on the bread in his hand, Stewart says, "I wouldn't hold my breath. My informant told me that Evans isn't reliable. He talks to hear himself talk. I don't believe a lot of what comes out of his mouth and neither should you."
"I know," Sharon says, "but he told me he killed Phillip Stroh with Andy's service weapon, and I believe he did."
Andy says, "Ballistics confirm that fact."
Stewart already knows the answer to the question he's going to ask, but he wants to make Andy squirm. Looking at the man with the lowest rank at the table, he says, "How did he get his hands on your weapon?"
Trying to keep the animosity out of his voice, Andy says, "He took it off me after he tried to run over me."
Steering the conversation back to Stroh, Sharon says, "Evans told me a little about his relationship with Phillip Stroh. He admired him, but he was afraid of him. He said he knew Stroh would eventually try to kill him. He also said Stroh had powerful contacts. He was able to get his hands on basically whatever the two of them needed." Pausing to take a sip from her drink, she continues, "Based on my meeting with the Copes last night, I'd say they have no idea Stroh is dead."
"Their Mercedes was full of fingerprints," Stewart says. "Like I told you on the phone, Captain, not all of the prints have been identified yet. We also confiscated enough evidence at the winery to put them away for intent to distribute. The people on their payroll, including what passed for law enforcement in Liberty, remain in police custody."
"That's a good start, but I have a strong feeling we've only scratched the surface," Sharon says.
In a much posher restaurant several miles away from the trio discussing them, Craig and Lydia Cope order their second round of drinks. "Dammit, I can't believe Stroh has disappeared in our Mercedes," says Lydia. "I knew we shouldn't have left the country. We should've stayed here and dealt with him, and something's wrong at the winery. No one will pick up the phone."
"He'll turn up," Craig says. "He always does."
"Don't I know it. I'm sick of him always turning up. You should have dealt with him years ago like I told you to. The world would owe you a big favor."
"We can fly to the winery tomorrow and check things out," says Cope. "I need to touch base with our people there." Reaching for his wife's hand, he looks at her and smiles the smile that's enabled him to swindle, scam, extort, and deceive so many people. "Please relax. It's going to be okay. I promise, it's all going to be okay."
"It better be. We haven't worked so hard for so long just for that psycho to ruin everything."
"He'll need more of our money sooner rather than later. Believe me, we haven't seen the last of him."
Lydia is perfectly aware of that fact. She has no need to continue talking about Phillip Stroh or to reveal her plan to finally rid them of him as soon as he resurfaces. She knows her husband isn't capable of getting the job done, but she is, when the time is right. Her husband doesn't need to know everything she's capable of or what she's planning. Her cunning, ambition, and ruthlessness combined with her husband's good looks and slick personality has enabled them to climb high up social, political, and economic ladders. She has no intention of allowing a man like Phillip Stroh to upset the perfectly calibrated balance of their lives. She hasn't pushed and prodded and promoted her husband for decades only to allow his protégé to ruin everything they've established. Their daughter is disappointment enough. There will be no further disappointments if she can help it.
Judge Harlan Ferguson and his young wife join the Copes at the same time the server appears with more martinis. The night is young. The ambience is perfect. Tender veal, fresh asparagus, wild rice, and crème brulee is consumed while the Copes talk about their European vacation. Lydia will not allow thoughts of Stroh to ruin her evening. She has no idea the two men sitting by the large mirror near the back of the restaurant are detectives Gray and Walker, and they've been following her husband all day.
Closing the door of Sharon's condo behind them, Andy watches her maneuver into the living room. She kicks off her shoe, sits on the couch, and discards the crutches. He needs to go to his own home and get some rest, but her pull on him is strong. Her hair is tousled. The hem of her dress is hiked up exposing the smooth leg not encased in a cast. Andy sits next to her. She rests her head on his shoulder. "Are you concerned about dealing with Evans tomorrow?"
Turning to look in his eyes, she replies, "No. I'm concerned he's going to be a waste of valuable time. I don't want him quoting The Histories to me or professing his undying devotion. I want him to name names. I want a list of all the people who helped Stroh. I want to know what would motivate them to help such a vile person. I want to put them all behind bars with Evans and the Copes." Placing her hand on Andy's chest, she takes a deep breath and continues, "What I want most is to get all this ugliness behind us and go to Catalina."
"I can't wait," Andy says. He leans down and covers her mouth with his. He can taste the tart wine she had with dinner lingering on her lips. Any thought of going home vanishes as his tongue plunges past the tartness to explore the sweetness of her mouth.
Keith Stewart lets himself into the bland hotel room. Removing his shoes and rumpled uniform, he sets the alarm for six in the morning. He's too exhausted to bother brushing his teeth. Besides, he thinks, it's not like he's going to be kissing anyone. He stretches out under the covers. It feels great to relax, but he realizes he's never been lonelier in his life. Closing his eyes, he imagines Sharon Raydor occupying a portion of the vast amount of available space next to him in the king size bed.
