Chapter Nine
For some reason, my chapters keep getting longer. Eventually, each chapter will be 300 pages long, and it will take me three months to update. (Haha – who am I kidding? There's no way I can write that fast.)
-x-X-v-X-x-
Upon her arrival at the SBPD three years ago, Juliet had been assigned an unmarked vehicle for those rare occasions when she had business to conduct without her senior partner. Back then, she didn't realize how much time she would spend riding with Lassiter rather than on her own, and how infrequently he'd permit her to drive. Now, it felt nice to be behind the wheel, even if the gold Crown Vic offered a clunkier ride than her beloved Volkswagen Beetle.
At the moment, it felt even nicer to be miles away – and steadily increasing – from that partner. As soon as they'd returned to the station, Juliet had lurched out of the car, practically before it came to a full stop. She told Lassiter that she would head to the hospital to follow up on Anita, in a tone that bore no invitation for him to question or join her. Then she ran upstairs to grab her keys and a donut for the road – if there was any occasion to stress-eat, this was it – and managed to avoid him until she made it back outside.
Admittedly, Juliet hadn't been at her best when she arrived at the station earlier. Sleep deprivation left her a little cranky, though she would have been able to soldier through it with a nice, giant cup of coffee. For a moment, she'd even thought Lassiter had developed an empathetic bone in his body, escorting her out for a caffeine run. But then he immediately lit into her in the car, the jackass.
She knew she couldn't rely on Carlton to lift her from a bad mood, but did he really have to instigate an argument? She wondered how poorly his date had gone – amid the odd hours of her weekend, she hadn't had a chance to communicate with Deborah. On the other hand, Deborah hadn't contacted her, so things either weren't as bad as Lassiter seemed to think or she'd decided to end her friendship with Juliet without a word.
The chief said his personal life is not my business, so I just need to stay out of it. That was a message she wished she'd garnered earlier, specifically before she dragged an innocent friend into her partner's drama.
She took a deep, steadying breath. That was it. No more thinking about her callous, paranoid, dickish partner. Let him sort out his problems on his own time. Juliet had a case to solve.
First step: check on the victim's status at the hospital. A phone call might be sufficient, but if there was any chance that Anita had regained consciousness, Juliet wanted to be there to take a witness statement. That could save them hours of chasing after ephemeral unnamed suspects.
Next step: follow up with the sister. Juliet had left a message for her on Friday evening but hadn't had an opportunity yet to speak with her directly. Considering the sister lived several hours' drive away in San Francisco, her testimony seemed to be of lower priority than their other leads. With the revelation that Anita had an ex-husband out there, however, it suddenly became critical to determine that man's whereabouts. Family might be the resource she needed.
Juliet scolded herself. The sister had a different last name – why did neither of them think of the possibility that Anita may have been married? For her own part, she'd assumed the sister had taken a husband's name, if she'd given it any consideration at all.
Great detecting, there, O'Hara.
She thought over the investigation: so far, their leads had resulted in nothing more than dead ends. As committed as she was to tracking the case wherever it led, Juliet wondered whether the assault was simply a robbery gone bad, a random attack. Unfortunate for the victim, but nearly impossible to solve without an eyewitness or security cam footage. Unless they turned up a heretofore unknown camera feed, they could do little until Anita awoke.
When she arrived at the hospital, Juliet met with the nurse manager on duty, who confirmed what she already suspected, that Anita had not awoken. The swelling in her brain – sustained from a concussive blow to the back of her head – was receding, which held promise that she would recover. The nurse warned that the patient might suffer short-term memory loss and probably would not recall the incident itself, so for the purposes of the investigation, Juliet should not pin a case on this one witness.
In other words, don't hold your breath.
Juliet nodded primly. She didn't expect any better news than this, but a convenient break in the case would have helped her mood. As the nurse manager returned to her station, Juliet tried not to glower in a very Lassiter way at her back.
"However," the nurse said, turning around with an air of recalling something important, "Ms. Torres' sister is here, if that might be helpful. I can ask her to come speak with you."
Juliet nodded. "That would be extremely helpful." Suddenly, a faint glimmer of hope appeared. She tried to maintain her composure.
A few moments later, Juliet was sitting in a pseudo-posh family waiting area across from a dark-haired woman with bloodshot eyes and a general sense of exhaustion. Allowing the sister to settle in, Juliet cast an eye at the surroundings: vinyl-lined chairs that were meant to look welcoming while still being quick to disinfect; tall plants dotted around as if to evoke a rainforest, and a plastic display tactfully positioned to one side containing brochures on various illnesses.
"I'm investigating your sister's assault," Juliet began gently, "and I was hoping you might be able to fill in some missing pieces." Best not to lead a witness into the story you want, she thought. "Do you know of anyone who might want to harm Anita?"
The sister, Rosella, leaned forward. "Yes," she said, without hesitation.
Juliet sat with pen poised above her notepad, ready.
"Steve Pollack. Her ex-husband."
"What makes you so certain?"
Rosella swallowed thickly, looked down, and then back up again. "Because she had to sneak out of San Francisco to get away from him."
"What happened?"
She pursed her lips, composing her thoughts. "They married young, but they seemed so happy together. Steve doted on her. Anita used to say he treated her like a princess."
"But something changed," Juliet said.
She nodded. "At first, it was just that I didn't see her as much. She said he wanted her to stay home with him all the time because he loved her so much. But then one time she showed up at my workplace, and she was crying, and had this big bruise on her face." Rosella cupped a hand over her own eye, as if to demonstrate its size.
"So she left him?"
Rosella shook her head slowly. "She left him maybe three times, but then she'd go back. He'd apologize and sound so guilty that she said she knew he'd be different." She shrugged helplessly. "It was always the same."
Juliet studied the sister, reading the frustration on her face even now, remembering as she watched a loved one caught in a trap. "How did she leave him? The last time?"
"I found a domestic violence organization that helped her pack a bag while he was at work. They drove her off somewhere safe and even I didn't know where she was for a long time. She's been down here for over a year."
Juliet frowned. "But you think he found her?"
"Yes." Rosella was adamant. "I don't know how, but he must have tracked her down."
"Do you know where he worked?"
She shook her head. "He was like a handyman or something. Whenever I saw him, he had on a giant toolbelt. He didn't like working for somebody." She scoffed. "I should have known better. Warned her somehow."
Juliet reached out a hand to rest comfortingly on Rosella's wrist. "You couldn't predict that he would hurt her. It sounds like you did your best to help her." Rosella looked away, ashamed. "Do you have any idea where he might be now?"
"No. He used to come by harassing me at work, looking for her. I moved across town and changed jobs, and I didn't see him anymore." Rosella looked at Juliet again. "I thought – hoped – she was finally safe."
"We'll do our best to keep her safe now," Juliet said firmly. She rose, closing her notepad, and left Rosella with a box of tissues and some privacy.
-x-x-x-x-
A little shaken from the interview, Juliet returned to her car in need of some levity to bring her spirits up. She knew the perfect place where she could find someone to make her laugh, and turned her car toward the waterfront. Along the way, she could grab lunch – street tacos or whatever appealed from the array of food trucks on the pier around the Psych office.
She parked about a block away from Psych and stopped to pick up a gyro at a cart she'd heard Shawn rave about. Suddenly rethinking the idea of bringing coveted food within arm's reach of her grabby friend, she instead veered off to a bench looking out on the water.
Midday in the touristy part of town meant that there were plenty of people dawdling around, a few professional dogwalkers strapped to a pack of pups, and enough shirtless joggers to catch her eye. She took a bite of the gyro, a little tzatziki sauce dripping on her hand, and let her mind wander with the gentle whispering of the waves at low tide.
A seagull alighted on a trash can nearby, glaring at her food. Something in its eye – or maybe the pissed expression on its face – reminded Juliet of Lassiter, and her moment of peace was shattered. She stared back at the gull, sending it all the angry feelings she carried for her partner at the moment. The gull reconsidered and swept off again with a caw of protest.
As she resettled into her meal, Juliet heard her phone ring and rolled her eyes. Now that she'd thought about him, it was probably Lassiter checking up on her. When she left his side for more than an hour, he apparently worried that she would realize how much better off she'd be without him – and in fairness, right now, he would be right.
Instead, Juliet saw Deborah's name on the display and flipped open her phone with a smile. "Please don't tell me you're mad at me."
"Why would I be mad at you?"
Juliet paused. What if Carlton didn't like Deborah but didn't want to say anything because she was a friend? She'd better tread carefully here. "How did the date go?" she asked, tentative.
A brief chuckle came over the line. "Well, for starters," she drawled, "you didn't tell me about his dreamboat eyes."
"Oh, didn't I?" Juliet said innocently, curling a finger into a strand of her hair that had fallen loose from the bun.
"You know you didn't." Deborah sounded amused. "And you definitely didn't mention what a good kisser he is."
"How would I know that?" Juliet said, annoyed now.
Deborah chose to ignore that remark.
"So it went okay?"
"He seems to be a bit of a dick, but he was actively trying not to be a dick, which is an improvement over most of the guys I've dated, so…" Juliet could imagine Deborah shrugging in that nonchalant way she had about her. "All in all, not a bad evening."
"Great," Juliet said, pleased but confused. How could Carlton's experience be so drastically different from this report that he'd decided the night was a total failure?
"It's just a shame," Deborah added, a little dreamily. "I wasn't successful in the getting-him-laid quest."
Oh. Juliet grappled with the sudden feeling of discomfort that washed over her. Some part of her mind attributed it to the sense that this was venturing into too-much-information territory with her extremely private partner. "Uh, what do you mean?" she asked, though she wasn't sure she wanted any additional details.
Deborah sighed. "He seemed interested, right up until the moment I invited him back to my place. Then he got shy."
"Well, he's a little old-fashioned," Juliet said, unsure why she was scrambling to make excuses for her partner, particularly when she didn't even know whether it was true. Was Carlton the type to take a woman to bed on the first date? His perpetual loyalty to his wife, misbegotten as it was, suggested not, but who could say? Sometimes Juliet got the sense that he had no sex drive at all, but he had, on occasion, made it clear that he noticed certain things about certain women.
"What did he tell you?"
Hesitant to reveal the extent of their morning argument, in case Lassiter's irritation was in some way related to his date, Juliet said, "We haven't really had much of an opportunity to talk today. We're working different angles of a case."
"Well." Deborah seemed to harbor no anxiety about the entire situation, which was more than Juliet could say for herself or Lassiter. "I'll give him a call later. Maybe next time I'll get a better look at that chest hair."
Before Juliet could stammer out a response, Deborah signed off.
For a few moments, Juliet mulled over this new information in her head, as if she were working a case. Deborah was certainly more easygoing than Carlton, but even that did not quite explain the difference in their perspectives. Though she and Lassiter had spoken with some degree of candor about their respective dating lives, they both avoided venturing into sexual territory. As a result, she did not know how he might approach sleeping with a woman he found attractive. Would he be scared off if she made the first move?
She finished her gyro and brushed off her hands, and with them the thoughts that had been plaguing her. There's an actual case that demands your attention, she reminded herself. Stop thinking about your partner having sex.
Though Chief Vick had made it clear that they could not enlist in Psych's services for this case, Juliet figured she might persuade Shawn to share any insight he may have gleaned. She wasn't above a little flirting in exchange for information. Besides, she really wanted to know where he got Diego's name, and whether that source could conjure a similar vision of the ex-husband.
Juliet opened the door to the Psych office and, surprisingly, heard silence. Usually when she came within ten feet of Shawn, it was to find him bickering with Gus over some eighties movie reference that she was slightly too young to remember. It seemed odd but not impossible that they would leave without locking the door. She moved quietly into the inner office, cop instincts prickling.
Feet propped on his desk, Shawn sat with one hand holding a toy basketball and the other raised to his temple in his receiving-a-psychic-vision pose. "I'm sensing the presence of an incredibly attractive person. With magnificent hair. So attractive it's overloading the spirits –" He broke off with a cry and convulsed. Then he straightened himself and looked up. "Oh, hey, Jules. Didn't see you come in."
"Very funny." She watched as he aimed the ball at a hoop across the room. It ricocheted off the backboard. Juliet stepped to one side to catch it on the bounce.
Shawn made a show of looking around and behind her. "What, no Lassie? You've finally decided to ditch the dead weight so we can be alone?"
She opted to ignore the dig. "Where's Gus?"
He sighed dramatically. "Catching up on his route again. I keep telling him that he really needs to think about priorities. I mean, we've got an agency to run here."
Juliet looked around the empty office. "Yeah, I can see business is booming."
Like a dog catching a scent, Shawn perked up. "But I'm never too busy to help out a friend," he said. He lifted a hand meaningfully to his temple again. "And I'm sensing that you have some unanswered questions."
She took up a post leaning against the corner of Gus' desk. "I do, but we're not authorized to hire you for this case."
"Ah, but you couldn't resist the forbidden fruit, could you?"
Juliet looked down to hide her smile. "How did you get the boyfriend's name? In the waitress case?"
Shawn sat up straight and held his arm out as if he were carrying a tray of food. "I communed with her ghost –"
"Still not dead."
"– and asked her to tell me about the man in her life," he finished, undaunted.
"Well, we found him, and he's not the guy." Probably, she added silently.
Shawn looked up, startled. "Not the guy?"
She nodded. "Problem is, there's another guy. What are you reading on an ex-husband? The name's Steve Pollack."
Shawn closed his eyes. Juliet watched. She wanted to believe in his power. In all the time he'd been consulting for the SBPD – longer even than she'd been a part of it – he'd solved so many cases via mysterious methods. Countless crime scenes she'd seen him go over, the same scenes that she herself had examined, and discovered information that no other cop there had seen. That had to mean he had some kind of unique gift, right?
Finally, Shawn opened his eyes. "The spirits are cloudy right now. Ask again later."
"What, like a magic eight ball?" She couldn't keep the sarcasm out of her voice.
"Please. Do not joke about such things." He gave her a look of disappointment. "The psychic world is serious business."
Abashed, Juliet raised her hands in a position of surrender.
"So is Lassie on a date or something?" Shawn looked around again, as if expecting the head detective to pop out from behind a doorway.
Juliet froze. "Excuse me?"
"It's just that I never see you without your partner in crime…fighting."
"We've split up plenty of times to investigate different angles of a case, or because someone has to go to court, or, or…" Juliet wasn't sure why she was feeling defensive. Despite her anger at Lassiter, she still felt an impulse to shield him from whatever criticism Shawn might lob his way.
"Hey, what ever happened with your getting-Lassie-a-date assignment?" Shawn sounded casual.
Moving away from the desk and over to the window, Juliet tried to match his relaxed manner. "Oh, you know. We got busy with other things, so I had to give it up."
"Impossible quest." She turned back to find him nodding sagely. "Listen, I had an idea! What if we take up a collection at the station, pool our money, and buy Lassie some companionship?"
Juliet stared at him. "You realize that's against the law, right?"
Shawn pursed his lips. "Good point. I guess he'd have to arrest himself, then." He thought this over, a smile coming to his face. "He'd also have to testify against himself. Might make sentencing awkward, but I'm sure he'd push for the maximum punishment."
"What happened with his previous partner?" Juliet wasn't sure what suddenly made her blurt out this question that had been nagging her for so long. Yes, she'd wanted to change the subject before Shawn pursued the idea of Lassiter on a date further – she had promised, after all. Now was perhaps the best and worst time to answer the Lucinda Barry Question: potential proof that Lassiter had been in a relationship outside of his marriage, that he was capable of moving on, despite current evidence to the contrary.
Shawn looked over, surprised. "Oh, well, she got transferred. Inappropriate work relationship."
"So that was true?"
He smiled at her, a little condescendingly. "Well, now, if it wasn't, then nobody would have been transferred, would they?"
"What was she like?" She'd never been able to answer this; no matter how obliquely she asked Lassiter about his previous partnerships, he shut her down immediately. He refused even to answer questions about any other partners he'd had, as if he'd never had another before her.
"Oh!" Shawn leaned forward with sudden enthusiasm. "She was really hot. Not a bad shot. But she seemed to be pretty committed to Lassie. She didn't even respond to any of my advances…"
Juliet scowled, irritated. "So, what, you just hit on all of Carlton's partners?"
Mouth agape, Shawn seemed to realize who he was talking to. He recovered quickly. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, Lassie didn't respond to me hitting on him, either!"
Rolling her eyes, she turned away again. She'd been looking for something a little more substantive than an evaluation of Lucinda's appearance, but she scolded herself. You should have known better than to expect a serious answer from Shawn.
Shawn seemed to understand that he'd stumbled upon a sore point. He stood up and approached Juliet, intercepting her before she reached the door. "Hey. Don't worry about it. He learned his lesson."
She looked at him, waiting for further explanation.
"Lassie knows not to get involved with a partner now. He's never going to try to fraternize with you." He paused. "And if he does, I'll be there to take care of you."
Juliet's eyes widened, horrified. Shawn spread his arms as if to welcome her into a hug. She brushed past him, knocking him aside with her shoulder, and continued out the door.
-0-0-0-0-
I swear Juliet is seen driving a gold car at some point(s) in the series, but I have no idea what kind of car it is or even if it exists, so I just assumed the department has a contract with Ford for all their vehicles. What do you want from me? I've never owned a car in my entire life.
And holy cats, I think this is the first time I've used an actual section break in a chapter. Hopefully the site recognizes the odd conglomeration of characters I've used to indicate that there is a separation there, instead of ignoring it like usual.
Finally, did I name the sister after the princess from King's Quest IV, a thirty-year old computer game? Why yes, yes I did.