I don't own anything.
Detective Ikari
Chapter Four: Travel Preparations
"So Chief is going with Spades to Japan?" Al asked disbelievingly. "I thought he was gay."
"Spades?" Pablo asked. "I've never seen him even look at a man differently. What makes you think he'd be with one?"
"Well we all know that he dates women," Freddie pointed out.
"Have you ever actually followed one of his relationships?" Tim asked. "It's a twenty car pile up spread out over two weeks at the most."
"Yeah," Al agreed. "And he dates some sweet girls too. He'd have to be gay to drive them off. Hey Tim. You were his partner the longest. Does he like men?"
"No," Tim answered, not looking up from his magazine.
"So he likes women!" Al deduced.
"No," Tim answered. All was silent for a few minutes.
"So," Conrad began awkwardly. "What does he like?"
"I'd say he likes his job," Mark answered. "What do you think?"
"Got the nail on the head," Tim replied.
"What about all the times Chief's flirted with him?" Al demanded.
"Well that's Chief," Mark responded. "She'd flirt with a cadaver."
"What about the last Christmas umph!" Pablo spun and stared at the person that had clamped a hand over his mouth.
"What happens during the office Christmas party stays at the office Christmas party," Amber hissed. "Get it?" Pablo nodded submissively. "Good."
"Hey Chief. We were just talking about you," Al stated. "Well sort of, only not really."
"I heard," Amber growled. "I would like to go on record and state that I don't have a relationship with Spades; well, beyond a working one anyway."
"She doesn't have a relationship with anyone," Tim commented. Amber's cheeks burned red, probably not with embarrassment.
"I could get a boyfriend," she growled.
"It's not that hard for women," Mark commented. "Just open the window and yell free puss. . .ow!"
"There's a lady present," Spades commented.
"Thank you Spades," Amber said happily.
"She may not act or look like much of one, but she still counts." Amber began to look even more pissed off.
"You asshole!"
"How long have you been there?" Al asked nervously.
"Long enough," Spades replied.
"Why didn't you say anything?" Pablo asked.
"I had nothing to say," Spades answered.
"Well," Pablo began, "sorry for talking about your relationships like we did."
"Tim's right," Spades stated. "My relationships are a twenty car pile up and like any good car accident you're all invited to slow down and stare."
"Speaking of car accidents, don't you have to drop your Chrysler off? Tim asked. Spades checked his watch and nodded.
"Can you give me a lift back?"
"No problem." Pablo watched as the two men walked out.
"I'll bet you one hundred bucks that Spades is strait," he stated as soon as the door shut.
"You're on," Al growled.
"I'm in on that," Mark added. "Put me down for one hundred on him being strait."
"This is the second bet we have going on that guy," Pablo commented. Al frowned. He liked to think that he was in on all the bets going around the office.
"What's the first one for?"
"How Spades got his nickname," Mark explained. "Lowest allowed bet is two hundred."
"I'm in."
(:ii:)
"You again?"
"Yeah," Spades replied. "It's busted up pretty bad this time Mister Navarro." The mechanic groaned in disgust and exasperation.
"Whoever would even consider selling a man like you a vintage 2006 Chrysler SRT8 should be killed," Navarro growled.
"He was already dead," Spades explained. "I picked it up at an estate sale. The widow just wanted it gone."
"Lucky you," Navarro spat.
"Yeah." Navarro glared as he walked around the counter and outside. Spades noticed how he faltered when he saw the Chrysler.
"You're a barbarian."
"Yeah," Spades agreed. "Can you give me an estimate?"
"You don't even have an appointment," Navarro pointed out.
"You don't have any system for taking appointments."
"You're lucky I love classics," Navarro growled. "It'll be done in about two weeks and it will cost you."
"Spare no expense," Spades commented. "I'm not paying for it."
"Very well." Spades handed his keys to the man and turned towards Tim's Ford.
"Spare no expense," Tim commented.
"Like I said, I'm not paying for it." Spades tugged a Gold and Mild out of his pocket as he climbed into the car. "Am I a workaholic?"
"Yeah."
"Oh." Spades frowned and lit his cigar. He inhaled and exhaled a cloud of sweet-smelling smoke. "I know people who always drink are alcoholics. What's the name for people who always smoke?"
"Future lung cancer statistics," Tim replied.
"Mm." Spades took a long draw. "These are healthier then cigarettes."
"Bullshit."
"It's true," Spades argued. "Cigarettes have all those chemicals in them."
"Bullshit," Tim repeated, pulling his pipe from the center console.
"You delude yourself your way and I'll delude myself my way," Spades replied. "Hey, if I'm a future lung cancer statistic, then what are you?"
"Future tongue cancer statistic," Tim answered as filled the bowl with his favorite cherry tobacco and tapped it down. He checked his pockets and glanced up as Spades held out a lit match. "Thanks."
(:ii:)
"Don't you have cases to be on?" Amber demanded as she glared at the men loitering around her office. "Why can't you people be more like Lez and Geoff? They only show up for morning briefings."
"Because they're gay and make out in the back of their car," Pablo answered. Amber's mental activity ground to a halt and she stared. "You didn't know?"
"No." 'Would explain the way the backseat of their car smells.'
"Oh," Pablo replied. "Look on the bright side. They do get their cases solved."
"Yes they do," Amber agreed. "Now out! Go hit a bar or something." She watched as her employees filed out the door and leaned back in her chair.
"I have your plane tickets ready," Helen stated. The door opened and Spades stepped in.
"Why is everyone heading for the bar?"
"Because there aren't any cases right now and they were just hanging around here driving me crazy," Amber growled, daring the older man to argue with her.
"Fine," Spades replied as he stubbed out what was left of the Gold and Mild he had been smoking in the ashtray on Helen's desk.
"I've got the tickets," Helen repeated.
"Thanks," Spades replied. "When's the flight?"
"Seven in the morning," Helen replied. "You'll have to be up and at it by four or so to get through the security at LAX."
"I'm normally up around then," Amber replied. "What about you Spades?"
"I don't sleep," Spades answered as he walked over to the mini fridge and pulled out a wrapped Italian sub.
"Everybody needs at least eight hours of sleep a night," Helen commented.
"That's a general statistic," Spades replied. "Besides, humans can typically go about seventy-two hours before irreversible damage begins to occur to the major organs."
"One question."
"Yes?"
"How come you can leave food in there and no one takes it?" Amber asked. Spades unwrapped his sub and pulled what looked like a thin metal bar out of it.
"Because we don't have a dental plan."
(:ii:)
"I'm taking the rest of the afternoon off." Spades watched as Helen walked out of the office. He tugged out his cell phone and ran through the list of phone numbers. He found one and hit the call button before bringing the phone to his ear.
"Levine here," the man on the other end stated.
"Its Spades," Spades replied. "Helen's taking off," he checked his watch, "two hours early."
"New boyfriend?" Al asked.
"The signs are similar," Spades replied. "Have a look into it while I'm in Japan."
"You want us to save the talk with this new guy until you get back?" Al asked.
"Go ahead," Spades replied. "Just remember, we're not threatening. We're warning."
"Of course." Spades flipped his phone shut and stuck it back in his pocket. He glanced up and saw Amber staring at him.
"What?"
"Why do you guys go after every boyfriend she gets?" Amber asked.
"Because we've been around and know how men think," Spades answered. "She's young and doesn't understand how bad people can be to one another."
"You guys are just like overly protective older brothers," Amber grumbled. "What about that Billy guy? You talked with him and he broke up with her right after."
"We just told him that if we ever caught him fooling around or taking advantage of Helen we would take care of him and his family," Spades answered. "If he wasn't planning on fooling around or taking advantage of her then he wouldn't have had to worry."
"That makes a kind of twisted sense," Amber commented. "Although, maybe you should let her learn a few life lessons for herself."
"And have to put up with a moping secretary for a few weeks?" Spades asked.
"Good point I guess."
(:ii:)
Spades stared at the window in the wall of his apartment. There really wasn't anything else to do. He picked up the glass that had been balancing on the arm of his easy chair and brought it to his lips. Someone began pounding on his door.
"Fucking God pushers." Spades set the glass down and stood. He grabbed his snubbie from the shoulder holster that was dangling from his coat rack and glanced through the peephole in his door. 'Wonderful.' He undid the dozen or so locks on his door and opened it. "What's up Chief?"
"I just wanted to come by and talk," Amber answered.
"Alright," Spades replied. He stepped aside and let the woman into his apartment.
"Ugh," Amber grunted in disgust. "This place really reflects your personality Spades."
"Ordered and neat?" Spades guessed.
"More like empty," Amber corrected. "You need something to make this place look like someone actually lives here."
"I have everything I need," Spades said as he looked around his rather empty apartment.
"Whatever," Amber stated peaceably. Spades shrugged and sat down in his easy chair. Amber looked around and frowned as she realized that he had taken the only chair. She eyed a sturdy looking desk against the wall and leaned on it. "I just wanted to say that you really don't have to do this."
"We already have the tickets," Spades replied. "We might as well go through with this."
"We don't have to," Amber argued. "I know I pestered you into this and you don't want to do it."
"I really don't care," Spades replied. "Who knows? Like you said, it might be fun."
"Spades?"
"Yes?"
"Repeat that without cocking and de-cocking your snubbie," Amber ordered. Spades looked at his lap and watched as his thumb drew the hammer back, his finger squeezed the trigger, and his thumb gently lowered the hammer back into place. It had become a nervous tick ever since he had found how soothing the gentle clicking was. Of course it went against several rules of safe gun handling.
"Why?"
"Because ceasing those actions would make it seem less like you were planning on killing many people in Japan," Amber answered.
"Why would I want to make it seem like that?" Spades asked.
"You did ask to bring that thing just to try and delay me, right?" Amber pressed.
"Whatever gave you that idea?"
"Right," Amber drawled out.
"Question."
"Yes?"
"Why are you so interested in this?" Spades asked suspiciously.
"I already said," Amber began, "I think this will be good. . ."
"Cut the shit," Spades interrupted. Amber pouted.
"Well that's a big part," she stated. "I'm also a little intrigued."
"By what?"
"By the fact that you actually had a childhood," Amber replied. "I can't imagine you as a kid Spades." She glanced at the desk. Various bullets and equipment for loading bullets were scattered around. She knew that Spades hand-loaded the bullets he used in competitions and in his snubbie. She picked up the pack of Gold and Milds and glanced at Spades. He didn't bother reacting and she tugged one out, tucking it behind her ear for later. "Can I ask you a really personal question?"
"You're the boss Chief," Spades replied.
"You're not gay, right?"
"Would there be a problem if I was?" Spades asked.
"Of course not!"
"Then why do you need to know?" Spades asked.
"I. . .well. . .I was. . .I was just kind of. . .you know, curious," Amber managed to stutter. "So, you're not gay right?"
"Whatever gave you that idea?"
-End
(:ii:)
-Author's notes. Chapter four in the bag. The next chapter will probably see them finally reaching Japan.
P.S. Always be conniving, er careful, when sharing a mini fridge. I share one at work and nobody goes near my food anymore. Heh.
