Chapter Ten
Update for those of you who have been closely following the Juliet's Gold Unmarked Car saga: I am pleased to report that Juliet is seen driving a gold ?Crown Vic in episode 5X02, when she and the boys do their partner-swap. So we can all rest easy, because I never could have lived with myself if I got a small detail wrong in a fanfiction story.
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After O'Hara split off from him, for what he could only assume would be the rest of the day (maybe the rest of her life), Lassiter decided to follow up on a few of his own projects. Rather than return to his desk, he waited in the car until he saw O'Hara's gold unmarked vehicle pull out of its space, and waited another interval before driving out of the parking lot himself.
The Crown Vic was silent except for the staticky chatter of the police radio, and he tried to tell himself he preferred it that way. Running errands alone: this was, after all, what he'd planned on doing today in order to avoid discussing his relationship issues with O'Hara. She'd thrown a monkey wrench into that plan, and now she was not only angry, but disappointed in him.
He regretted their argument. More than that, he hated hearing the pain in her voice when she believed he didn't trust her. How could she think that? He trusted her as much as anyone who'd been betrayed as often as he had could trust.
That was it, wasn't it? She was normal, had reasonable reactions to the world. And he… he was something else.
While it was fresh in his mind, Lassiter first stopped by the school where Diego Rogers claimed to work. His alibi checked out, much to Lassiter's irritation. Would it kill the universe to throw him a bone?
Lassiter then headed back to Maximo's. He'd intended to assign McNab to patrol the neighborhood around the restaurant, searching for security cam footage, but decided instead to lose himself in the mindless task of interviewing random shopkeepers. Normally, he'd consider it a waste of detective resources. Now, however, he craved the distraction.
He stopped by the host station at the restaurant and asked for the owner, whose name he definitely did not have to consult his notes to recall. While he waited for the hostess to deliver the message, he surveyed the bar area. Carved wood dominated the aesthetic, with high ceilings and a rustic sensibility. Lassiter wasn't really one to judge, but it seemed the kind of place one could take a date.
Not like you'll have to worry about that anytime soon.
"Detective?"
Lassiter turned to find the owner looking at him quizzically. "Ms. Forsythe."
"Has there been an update in the case?"
He avoided the question. "I have a few follow-up questions, if you don't mind."
"Of course." She gestured for him to follow, and he trailed her through the dining area and into the kitchen. "As it happens, our electrical problem is still being resolved."
"How's that?" They came to a stop in the rear of the building, where someone in worn dungarees was half-buried in a utility closet.
Nina favored the worker with a disdainful look. "It appears that our lighting issue has boggled the finest tradesmen of our time."
The electrician lifted his head slightly, but his face was concealed by a baseball cap. "Ma'am, you're lucky a short didn't set this whole place ablaze," he growled.
Lassiter narrowed his eyes. "What's wrong with it?" He looked inside the closet, which contained a fuse box and a panel where the electrician had dragged out a tangle of wires. Though no expert himself, he quickly concluded that whatever was happening violated some safety regulations.
In one gloved hand, the electrician grabbed a wad of blackened wires and held it up. "There's your problem. Shorted out the circuit feeding the lights in the alley."
"Where's the insulation on those wires?"
"Good question." The electrician shrugged, as if it didn't matter to him one way or another. Lassiter noticed that the guy kept his head down, shielding his face from view.
Lassiter looked over to Nina. "Who set up your lights?"
She made a helpless gesture. "I have no idea. Someone from his company."
Lassiter turned his laser focus back to the man. "Look at me," he ordered.
Grudgingly, the man looked up. "We got a lot of guys. They probably just sent whoever was free." He looked away again almost immediately.
Small scar, upper right side of lip. Brown eyes, brown hair. Wide nose. Soul patch. Lassiter absorbed the physical details instinctively and filed them away. Then he stepped back to find Nina, who was speaking to one of her chefs.
"Do any of the neighboring shops have outdoor security feeds?"
Nina seemed a little annoyed by the question. "I'm sure I wouldn't know." She paused, as if catching herself. "Is there an update on Anita's condition? The staff have been asking."
Stone-faced, Lassiter said, "My partner is with her now." He kept his eyes on the electrician, who was unnaturally still. For a moment, nobody moved.
Suddenly, Nina clapped her hands, making everyone jump. "Well, I know we'll all be delighted to have her back. You let her know that her job will be waiting for her."
The electrician busied himself with the wires again, and Lassiter watched him a little longer before turning away. He plastered a fake smile on his face for Nina's sake. "We'll be sure to convey that message."
Back outside, Lassiter took note of the electrician's truck, copying the company name and phone number for later follow-up, along with the plates. A gut feeling wasn't quite sufficient for an arrest, but he'd spent enough time evaluating suspects to recognize a guilty face when he saw it. One more action item for the to do list.
It wasn't so difficult to fill his time without O'Hara, although he wouldn't have minded getting her read on the situation. She probably could have dragged a confession out of the guy right there in the kitchen. He smiled a little at the thought.
No need to wallow. Lassiter peered up and down the street, assessing the best starting point for his search. Halfway up the block was a jewelry store; a bit of a long shot in terms of coverage of the alley, but if any of the nearby shops had camera footage, this would be it.
As he opened the door, an electronic tone chimed. A young man in suit and tie attended to a dark-haired and well-dressed woman leaning over the front counter, where a collection of necklaces rested on dark velvet. Lassiter considered whipping out his badge and elbowing his way to the front of the line, but hesitated. Once, back when she was just an impressionable rookie, O'Hara would have stood by uncomfortably while he charged forward. Over time, though, she'd found her voice to object to his aggressive approach, and in deference to her, he'd scaled back.
She wasn't here now. Even still, Lassiter decided to wait, if only to prove to himself that he wasn't as big an ass as everyone thought he was.
Absently, he cast his eyes over the nearest display. Bracelets. They all looked the same to him – shiny metal with different-colored gems. Why did women fall all over themselves for jewelry? Easy to scoff when you have no one to buy for, he thought.
O'Hara wore jewelry, and he'd never heard her gush over some dangly silver chain. She was practical, he thought approvingly, and never wore anything that could distract, no necklaces long enough for a suspect to grab and choke her with. Not that he paid attention to her jewelry. Or if he did, it was strictly to ensure that she met dress code regulations.
"Carlton?"
He looked up guiltily. "Victoria." His throat constricted, mouth suddenly dry.
"What are you doing here?" She sounded suspicious, and perhaps with good reason.
He wasn't sure why he didn't immediately recognize her, even from the back. The coat was new. The annoyance etched into her face was not.
"Ah, is this your gentleman?" The clerk sidled over to the opposite side of the counter.
"Husband," Lassiter muttered before he could stop himself.
Victoria rolled her eyes.
"I think you'll be pleased with her selection." Either the bastard was completely oblivious to social cues, or he'd seen enough domestic disputes resolved via jewelry purchases to not bat an eye at their tension.
Lassiter gave a theatrical look around the otherwise empty shop. "Where's Dirk the Jerk?"
"He's in court today," she said as if the answer were obvious. "I sincerely hope you aren't here for my benefit."
"I had no way of knowing you would be here," he said, unsure why he felt so defensive. Instead, he pulled out his badge and held it up for the clerk. "I'm here on SBPD business."
"No partner?" Victoria asked with cool assessment. "Did you piss her off, too?"
Before he could stop himself, he turned back to her. "Now, you listen to me. I'm an officer of the law, and while I'm on duty, I deserve to be treated with respect."
She gazed at him placidly, unimpressed by his outburst. "Always a pleasure to see you, Carlton." She nodded at the clerk and turned to glide out the exit.
Lassiter watched her for a moment, and couldn't stop himself from calling out after her. "Do you want to maybe grab a coffee and talk?"
She glanced back as she pushed the door open, but gave no other response.
"How may I help you, sir?" The clerk retained his polite manner, but his greeting felt chillier in the absence of an actual customer.
Lassiter was fine with this – chilly was where he lived. He inquired after the security footage and was pleased to learn that two cameras monitored the sidewalks outside the store. Though one faced the back of the store – on the opposite side of the street from Maximo's, so probably useless – Lassiter requested any footage from Thursday night.
The clerk nodded and slipped into the back to retrieve the tapes.
While waiting, Lassiter wandered over to the necklaces Victoria had been perusing. In her day-to-day life, she wasn't one for ostentatious displays, but she'd been to plenty of galas that necessitated the occasional glamorous look. God only knew what fancy parties her lawyer boyfriend was taking her to these days.
As he scowled down at the necklaces, the clerk returned, carrying two videotapes. "Which one was she looking at?" he asked abruptly.
"Your- your wife?" He seemed uncertain about the title.
Lassiter nodded without saying anything.
The clerk clicked his tongue in approval and with deft fingers pulled one of the necklaces out and placed it on the countertop, rattling off attributes of the metal and gems that meant nothing to Lassiter.
Not one to turn down an opportunity for a commission, Lassiter thought cynically. He stared at the necklace, glittering with diamonds. He didn't even need to ask the price to know it was more than he would be willing or able to pay.
Still, his mind whirred. He wasn't one to believe in fate, and yet something brought him to witness Victoria here, right now.
"Thanks," he said briskly to the clerk, turned, and strode out of the store.