"That's a strange triangle, if you ask me."
Mike waited until Steve limped over to the passenger side before leaning against the roof of the Galaxie, anxiously playing with the car keys in his hand.
"Could be jealousy.", the Lieutenant offered and squinted against the sun rays beating down on them from the east, "Could be some sort of drug deal gone wrong. It's just as possible that Lester saw something he wasn't supposed to and Rick and Albert decided to silence him. We won't know more until we find them. I am ready to put out an ABP on both of them, but I want to check out the other two homeless shelters first, see if they hang around there. I'd hate to chase them out of their rabbit hole until we can be sure."
Steve nodded slightly and pulled his sunglasses out of his gray overcoat, hesitating for a moment before reaching for the door handle.
It was a move not lost on his partner.
"Your ankle still holding up? I can drive you back to the office."
"No, I am alright…", the young Inspector lied and insecurely ran a hand through his wavy hair, "Just a bit stiff still from the crash."
"I bet you are."
Letting his eyes drift over to his partner once again, taking in the stiff posture and sunken shoulders, the Lieutenant stopped midway and smiled.
"How about we take a quick break and grab a hot dog on the way? Make up for the lunch break we never took, hm?"
With a cheeky grin that brightened Mike's day instantly, Steve slapped the roof of the Galaxie.
"Now, who could deny an invitation like that? Count me in, Kemosabe."
# # #
Twenty minutes later, two weary San Francisco Homicide detectives sat on a bench in Laguna Park, enjoying a deluxe hotdog while trying to keep the fixins' off their expensive wardrobe.
The intense sun from earlier had disappeared behind a thick band of clouds once again, dropping the temperatures significantly while making room for a stiff wind gust howling through the City by the Bay.
For the longest time, they had eaten their lunch in mutual silence, navigating through the thick layer of chili, onions, relish, crunchy pickles and mustard while enjoying each other's company, glancing up here and there to watch a pigeon fly by or a child enjoy the nearby swing set.
The hot dog stand at the park entrance was buzzing with business that afternoon as two lines had formed to get their hands on the famous treat Mike seemed to know by heart, and Steve had never heard of before. According to the owner, a burly Norwegian by the name of Papa Ludwig, this was no ordinary hot dog but a concoction of "the best meats served with the best sides, needing no substitutions ever".
So far, the crowd proved him right.
As far as the slab of meat twice the size of a regular hot dog was concerned, there was no way he'd be able to finish it in one sitting, probably not even two, turning the remainder of his meal into a much-appreciated treat for the eagerly waiting pigeons in no time at all.
"You know, I thought it was strange that Foster never saw Hernandez near our victim. Judging by what your lady, this ehm…this Sandy said, he was trying to sabotage his efforts quite often…", Mike noted from his side of the bench, thoroughly enjoying another big bite of his hearty meal.
"Well, it wouldn't be the first time that she embellished a little bit. Should have seen her in the abandoned house Tanner and I scouted out yesterday."
Wiping his hands on the napkin in his lap one last time, Steve returned the leftover bun and meat into the small cardboard tray, causing a group of nearby pigeons to slowly creep closer in expectation of the impending buffet.
"Seems to me there are a lot of interesting characters in this case. And for one strange reason or another, they all seem to elude us, including our victim. I still would feel much better with a positive ID. Something that will link our booking photo to our body. Until we get that, it will be hard to make anything stick for the DA's office."
"That's quite the downtrodden tone there, Lieutenant…", Steve teased and helped himself to a sip of water, "There's still a chance that the killer will find us and confess to his sins."
"Sure, sure…", Mike countered frivolously and shook his head, "That'd be the first thing happening in this case that isn't convoluted."
Both men chuckled for a little while and fell silent again, letting the peaceful atmosphere of the small park pull them into a quieter frame of mind, allowing some of the tension from the past few weeks to drift away in the cold breeze.
"How'd you find this place anyway? That's one of the best hotdogs I've ever had."
Changing the topic for the time being, Steve pulled a few pieces of bread from his leftover bun and threw them at the eagerly cooing pigeons, causing a temporary food war between several of the larger birds.
"Oh, you tend to find some of the best foods this city has to offer when you've walked the beat as long as I have, Buddy Boy."
Never changing the soothing tone in his voice that he knew did wonders to his partner's busy mind, Mike gently tapped Steve's arm, pointing at the pigeons.
"Watch that dark gray guy over there. He's a bully. I'd throw the rest of the food over to the group with the guy missing a foot. Much nicer and well-behaved birds than these other thugs…"
The young Inspector's puzzled expression quickly changed into a smile and he did as he was told, throwing a few more pieces over to the other birds, before clearing his throat uncomfortably.
"Speaking of which, I guess I owe you an apology for what I said in the bullpen. That was uncalled for."
"Don't be sorry.", Mike countered, never skipping a beat and shook his head fervently, "It had to be said. I am glad it was you who did it."
Many seconds of tense silence ensued as both partners fell completely quiet, unmoving, unsure how to proceed. Eventually, Mike took the initiative.
"You were right. This whole…Osorro thing has got me more tied up than it should. But I just…I just can't let my guard down until we know for sure, do you understand that?"
"I get that part. I really do.", Steve argued and began to nervously fidget with the napkin in his lap, "And I am not worried about that. I am worried about what happens to you at night. When you don't sleep. Or when you…when you hear a fire truck and you get that glazed-over look in your eyes. That has nothing to do with the ongoing investigation. It has everything to do with what happened in that warehouse. And I just wish…and hope…that you'd open up to somebody about what's bothering you. Talk to me. Lenny. Somebody. Because you haven't been yourself lately and it…it worries me. I worry about what's circling around your mind these days. I worry about your safety. I worry about what happened yesterday when I went after the guy and you didn't follow. I worry about what happens next time you freeze because you see a blue balloon flying through the air and..."
Steve's passionate monologue was disrupted when Mike reached over to wrap his strong fingers around the nape of his partner's neck, shaking him slightly.
The unspoken message, short and yet so powerful, caused the young Inspector to fall quiet, his curious eyes meeting Mike's for a brief moment of reassurance, an exchange of apologies and the promise that things would get better from here on out.
