-1Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. I just manipulate them on paper (computer) for my own amusement and, hopefully, that of others.
Author's note: This takes place about a week after chapter two. Kind of a lighthearted break in the action. Hope you enjoy, and thanks for all the great comments.
Chapter 3
Lindsay trudged back into the precinct, dreaming of the shower she planned on taking once she dropped off the gun the ballistics. She tried to ignore the wrinkled noses, horrified stares and chuckles that greeted her.
Hawkes and Lindsay had been called to the scene shortly after 9 a.m. The undeniable smell of human rot had finally brought attention to a well-dressed white male under a layer of boxes in an alley behind a swanky seafood restaurant on the east side. Hawkes estimated he'd been there at least three days. The man, who appeared to be in his 40s, had been shot once in the back of the head. The position of his body indicated that it was done execution style. After a best-two-out-of-three session of rock-paper-scissors, Lindsay earned the honor of dumpster diving for the murder weapon.
Half and hour and about a thousand pounds of rotten seafood later, Lindsay finally unearthed the 9-mm Beretta, which was likely the murder weapon. It had been wiped clean, save for the half eaten shrimp that found its way into the barrel. Lindsay sighed as she walked up the stairs. Damn thing would likely lead them nowhere. The case smacked of professionals.
"Mmm mmm mmm Montana. You're looking lovely." Lindsay didn't have to turn to identify that voice. "What is that scent you're wearing? Eau de cod?" Danny Messer dissolved in laughter, taking in her smelly stained jumpsuit and greasy hair. "Hate to tell you this, but you've got what looks like a lobster claw in your hair."
"Sit on it and twirl, Messer," Lindsay growled, flipping him the bird. As Danny doubled over with laughter, she went on down the hallway and dropped the gun off before heading to the locker room. She couldn't help but smile at Danny's demeanor. Between Aiden's death, Louie's coma and Flack's near death, he had been a shadow of himself.
But now, Louie was showing signs of improvement. He'd opened his eyes, was blinking some responses and squeezing the hands of his family. Flack was back on the job and goofy as ever, and Aiden - well, she was still on his mind. At least he could smile and laugh - even if it was at her rather rank state of affairs.
"Hey Stella, keep your distance." Lindsay warned as she passed her. Her coworker laughed as she exited the locker room.
"Don't need to tell me twice," Stella joked. Lindsay was glad to see her rebounding after Frankie's assault on her and subsequent death. Things were definitely looking up.
A short time and long shower later …
Lindsay emerged feeling and smelling much better. Dressed in a fresh pair of khakis and short-sleeved Oxford, she went to check on her weapon.
"Go home Montana." Danny stepped out of the lab. "Excuse me?" Lindsay asked, eyebrows raised.
"I checked on your gun. No match in the system, according to ballistics, no fingerprints. Dead end. Hawkes is working on trace, says he's got it. I checked with Mac, and he said I can cover the rest of your shift." Danny leaned against the wall and smiled proudly.
"Danny, that's not necessary ..."
"Listen, Lindsay, let me do this. God knows you've been there for me, and I just wanted to do something nice in return. Now be a polite Montana girl and take yourself home." With that, Danny walked away. She considered arguing, but for once did what she was told. She knew he didn't like owing anyone, and she had certainly worked enough double shifts lately.
About an hour later a frazzled Lindsay finally made it home, having fought her way through heavy traffic. She couldn't wait just to chill out in front of the TV with some Hot Pockets and a Yoo Hoo.
What greeted her was a beautifully set table with a place setting of china, candles and a single yellow rose. "What the - "
"Now don't be mad." Sally, her chatty neighbor from next door, bustled in. "You friend Danny called me today and asked me to set this up - apparently you told him I had a spare key. Now you sit down and get comfortable." Lindsay continued to stare at the scene. "Seriously, honey, you sit."
Sally - a sweet widow in her 50s - began moving around the kitchen, taking a delicious looking dish out of the oven. "This is from Nucio's, their Manicotti. It's incredible. Danny said to get something Italian, definitely no seafood."
Soon she had the table set with the main course, as well as crusty rolls, a salad and a glass of Pinor Noir. "Hey Sally, why don't you join me," Lindsay asked when she was finally able to form rational thought.
"Nope, Danny said you had a rough day. You just relax. Oh, here, he sent this for you." Sally handed her a folded sheet of fax paper. " ... and here." The remote control to her CD player followed. "Danny - I'll bet he's a cutie - said to read the note first, then play the CD. Have a good night, sweetie."
Lindsay opened the note after Sally left, smiling at the scribbled note.
Hey Montana -
Don't let this get around. Hawkes will expect this next week, and don't even get me started on Flack. He's really milking this injury thing.
Anyway, I appreciate your help these last few weeks. I know I don't always say it, but I'm glad you left that boring planet you came from, even when you smell like week-old tunafish.
Seriously, you're the best and I hate being in debt. So enjoy your dinner and I'll see ya tomorrow.
Danny
PS - This is a one-time deal, so don't get any ideas.
PPS - Leftovers are appreciated.
Lindsay laughed solidly for about five minutes, then felt tears form. For all of his bravado, he could be sweet. Annoying and full of himself, but sweet. And with everything going on his life, it was nice that he thought to do this for her. She was about to get started on the meal when she remembered the remote. Pressing play, she waited for the latest surprise.
"Take this job and shove it, I ain't working here no more ..." Johnny Paycheck drawled.
Lindsay once again lost control, and this time the tears streaming down her face were those of laughter.
TBC
