06.06 - Every Man
Therapy sessions, sex, and someone's dead inside a locked room. Must be Tuesday.
Her therapist stared at her, which was unnerving. It had happened a few times before, usually when Vivian had been trying out new therapists. Trying to find someone she felt she could talk to. This was different. Dr. Cooper had known her for years. Since before she graduated university. Through a heartbreak. She was a reliable psychologist as well as a therapist.
And she was looking entirely surprised and shocked.
"Okay, now you're scaring me," muttered Vivian.
"You don't see anything?" Dr. Cooper put down her notepad.
That wasn't a good sign. "Uh. No."
Dr. Cooper regarded her. "Vivian, is this a joke? I know Gail's penchant for practical jokes."
Vivian shook her head. "No. No. I really don't see anything like that."
"Alright." The doctor looked at the wall for a moment. "How do you remember how to spell a word?"
She felt blank. "What?"
"How do you remember how to spell a word? Like … Couture."
"C-O-U… I just spell it? I remember how to spell. I remember the word?"
Her doctor made a thoughtful noise. "When people tell you to picture a beach in your mind, and to calm your mind…"
"I … I thought it was metaphorical."
Dr. Cooper put her pen down. "When you remember your dreams, are they visual?"
At that, Vivian nodded. "Yes. I see my dreams."
The look on Marjorie Cooper's face made Vivian feel a little better. Like that was normal. "Ever get a song stuck in your head?"
"Ugh, yes. I had that stupid pizza jingle for days."
Marjorie grinned. "Oh? Your pizza gets there faster, when you call the pizza masters?"
"That's the one." She winced. "God I hate their pizza, too."
"It's rather cardboard." Dr. Cooper picked up pen and paper and made a note. "I would like to tentatively inform you that you have partial aphantasia. I'd need an MRI to be sure, but you lack the ability to synthesize senses in your mind. Specifically visual images."
Vivian blinked a few times. "I can draw schematics," she protested. And floorplans.
"That's a bit of a different part of the mind, but also why I said partial." Dr. Cooper smiled. "It also explains why you hated guided meditation and needed something more active."
Oh. Well. Okay. That made a bit of sense. "Okay. So … Uh. What does this mean?"
"In the context of this conversation, it means I think you need to go to the gym and not yoga to try and calm your mind and destress."
Her mothers, realized Vivian, would laugh at that. Gail might. No, Gail would. So she called Holly from the parking lot. "Mom, what's aphantasia?"
To her credit, Holly didn't ask why. "It's when you can't visualize in your mind's eye."
"Is it common?"
"It wasn't even really a defined condition until you were a teenager," mused Holly. "Possibly 2 to 5% of the population. It's related to face blindness."
"That's the one where you can't remember faces?"
"Don't recognize faces. Not remembering them is more aphantasia." There was a clink and Holly exhaled loudly. "Done. Sorry, honey, I'm still at work."
Vivian blinked and double checked the time. That was the sound of Holly not just at work, but working on a body. "Jesus, what happened?"
"Nothing novel or even surprising. Just a bit of a backup after last month." Holly made a noise Vivian recognized as the grumpy scowl plus huff. "We'll be back on track by then end the month."
"Fun times. But everyone's all trained in spotting evil?"
Her mother laughed. "As much as anyone can be, I suppose. How's your ... ah ... scam? How's that running?"
"You mean my white lie that I'm secretly an Machiavellian Peck? S'allright." Vivian demurred the situation, since Holly didn't really need to know anything.
The reality was that it was going great. The vacuum in the power structure that Gail and Uncle Frank had left was never filled. Never sufficiently filled at least. Too many people were terrified of Gail, or rather the concept of Gail as an angry Peck, to try and wear the shoes of power.
When Vivian quietly stepped up and made a few casual mentions that she was more than she seemed, and when Fifteen happily let it be known that her lone wolf demeanour was really a cover to keep people from looking in, she found herself with groupies. After all, Vivian didn't have to fear her own mother, not like that. And she had been known to spend a lot of time with Elaine.
If there was anyone more feared by the force than the name Peck, it was the woman who'd taken the name on and overtaken the positions. More than one person had confided to Vivian that they had assumed Elaine was the born Peck, and Bill been forced to.
As for what Vivian did as an evil machinating schemer, well... Not much. She listened a lot. She gently steered conversations. She found whispers of evil, which yes, Vivian reported up the chain. But more than that, she found little evils. Small crimes. Petty crimes.
The kind of crimes Oliver warned her about.
See, Gail was Peck born and bred and bled. She knew the law inside and out. The badge was Gail and she was the badge. The idea of doing something mildly illegal never crossed Gail's mind. And Holly. Well. Holly was just one of nature's more innocent and honest people.
Regular people, even regular cops, were humans. Mere mortals who succumbed to their whims and passions. People were not general evil, but the inherent unfairness and inequality of the world often drove them to do some really fucking stupid things.
Vivian suspected she understood that more than her parents. Which was okay. She was allowed to be different, it just meant that she didn't try to explain everything to Holly just then.
"I'm not thrilled about that," admitted Holly. "You're being safe, right?"
"No glove, no love," replied Vivian, and was pleased to hear Holly snicker. "Dr. Cooper thinks I may have partial aphantasia."
Her mother made a thoughtful noise. "You remember faces paired with traumatic events rather well, I think. But ... it did take you an abnormally long time to remember the faces of your classmates. You certainly recognized them, but you could never tell me what they looked like. At the time I thought it was just you didn't want to after all those other homes."
Vivian frowned. "Yeah, I don't remember that part."
"You were six!" Holly laughed. "Dr. Cooper is very smart. She'll have you take some tests and then you'll know. Maybe it is. Maybe it was just a protective measure that your mind took when you were a child."
That didn't make Vivian feel much better. "Is that why I didn't draw as a kid?"
Holly was quiet for a moment. "I doubt it. You just don't imagine that way. And I'll note your depressed poetry at sixteen was adorable and creative."
"This is why normal people don't confide in their parents," grumbled Vivian. "You're both assholes."
"We try. Are you coming for dinner on Thursday?"
"That's the plan, ma'am. Love you, Mom. Go home."
Her mother laughed. "You go home too, honey. I love you."
Vivian tapped her phone to hang up and sighed. She wasn't entirely sure how she felt about the whole thing. Delayed onset emotional time bombs seemed to be ingrained in her genes.
How lovely.
"Hi, Mom," said Gail as she walked into her mother's house. It was still weird, Elaine having a simple one floor house in a retirement community. Elaine had been so vibrant and full of life that the abrupt deterioration messed with Gail's head.
"Hello, dear. Meet Jefferson. Jeff, this is my daughter, Gail."
Gail blinked at the handsome, grey haired man sitting on Elaine's couch. He had a cup of something, but put it down and got to his feet. "Oh, please, you don't have to get up, Mister ..."
"Smith, I'm afraid." He beamed at Gail. "Jefferson works."
"Or Jeff, if you're my mom." She arched an eyebrow and held out a hand, which Jefferson shook. He had a good handshake.
"Well your mother is special. Elaine, thank you for the coffee. I'll see you tomorrow?" There was a twinkle in his eye as Jefferson smiled at Elaine.
And damned if there wasn't one in Elaine's eyes too. Oh Ho Ho.
"I'll be there at nine." They smiled at each other and Jefferson let himself out. "Not a word, Gail Peck."
"Mom's got a boooooyfriend," sang Gail, blithely ignoring her mother. "He's hot, Mom. How'd you meet?"
Elaine rolled her eyes. "We take the same golf class."
The what? "Mom, you don't golf!"
Her mother pursed her lips. "Well. Yes."
Gail blinked and then laughed. "Oh my god, did you sign up for golf because the hot guy was there?"
Elaine actually flushed. "I sometimes wonder what evil I did to deserve you," she said, dead pan. "Then I remember exactly what I did."
"Love you too, Mom." Gail pulled out her mother's pills from her purse. "Here are your drugs for the month."
"Thank you," said Elaine, primly.
"And Holly will take you to the brain therapist tomorrow. I caught court."
Her mother made a noise. "I thought you were free this week."
"I was, and then the drug cartels changed a plea and now I gotta depose again." Gail shrugged. "Happens. Sorry."
"Whatever for? You're doing me a favour."
That was true. Elaine's aide, Diane, was taking a week off for a vacation. They'd thought about getting a stand in, but Gail had offered to be around instead. It was just easier for everyone. Especially the other aides. "For sticking you with Holly? She's going to pick at the doctor's brain."
It took a moment, but Elaine made a face. Doctor Stewart could be a bit much when she was in mothering mode. "Vivian doesn't happen to be free?"
"Nah, she's on ETF this week and next, and Jamie's got four off, so ..." Gail shrugged. She hated to interrupt the kids on their days together. Privately she felt it was why they were doing so well.
Elaine nodded, seeming to agree with Gail's sentiment. "Well. At least we can go to that lovely French restaurant you hate."
Gail rarely hated food. "The place with tomatoes on everything?"
"I'm sure Holly will brush her teeth."
"The one time she didn't, ugh." Gail shook her head. She'd had such a rash on her neck. Though it could have been worse.
Elaine seemed to have the same thought. "Gail, dear, I know we're quite open about sex, but Holly doesn't appreciate that."
"Just the side of my neck, Mom. That was a long time ago." Gail grinned. "Before the stupid breakup."
Her mother nodded. "I'm quite pleased that worked out. I like Holly, and the two of you together."
"Fishing for compliments about Jeffy?"
"Not until we have an actual date," demurred Elaine. "He's polite, classy, likes the opera."
"Dresses better than Dad." Then she asked the obvious question, "What's up with Gordo?" The gentleman had not been around while Gail had for a while, but that could mean a great many things. And Gail had never actually asked if they were exclusive or what.
Elaine went silent for a longer than normal pause, which was telling. "He lost his first wife to dementia."
Ah. And was clearly not up for a possible round two. "Seriously? You broke up over that?"
"I may have encouraged it," confessed her mother. "I like Gordon very much, but it's not fair to him or me at that point."
Huh. Gail rocked on her heels and tried to think if she'd do that. No, she'd fight tooth and nail to keep Holly around. If she was going to lose her memory, Holly would stand by her. And wasn't that a difference of it all? Gail and Holly wanted to be there for each other.
"You don't have to do that, Mom. Chase them off before they hurt you. Gordo's not like Dad."
And her mother winced a little. "It's not that at all, Gail." She sighed. "We didn't divorce because of you. You know that, right?"
She did and she didn't. "It doesn't matter, Mom." Gail rocked on her heels. "Dad was an ass to me. He wasn't a great cop. And ... y'know. Why did you cover for him anyway?"
"You..." Elaine paused. "You never asked this before."
Intellectually, Gail knew Holly and Elaine had talked about the whole matter. For a very long time, Gail had not asked on purpose. And really, she didn't care why her parents divorced. There were always reasons, and they often made sense. Sometimes they didn't.
"I know he's the one who leaked the tape of me to the social worker," Gail said quietly. "And I know he's the one who wanted me out of Major Crimes."
"He didn't want you outside his control," mused Elaine, thoughtfully. "And yes, I took the blame for that."
"Why?"
Her mother looked at the window. Away. "Blackmail, mostly. It was the only way I could see where they couldn't leverage me against you."
That made a lot of sense. If Elaine had remained a cop, any minor wrongdoings would be potential for blackmail from the Pecks. But if she turned on them, flipped many things but not all, and secured a divorce...
Gail wondered aloud, "Is any of that dirt still useful?"
"Some, probably." Elaine shrugged and looked back at Gail, a little sad. "Not much gain in it for you, though."
"Vivian?"
Her mother's gaze sharpened. "Maybe."
As much as it pained Gail to admit, Vivian was probably going to accidentally resurrect the Peck Power. Not as it was, thank god, but as it was supposed to be. People told the kid things and, unlike Steve, Vivian kept her damn mouth shut. She was smart enough, and knew enough about human nature to see the good and evil in people.
A trait Gail really never mastered.
"Were you ever upset I didn't have a taste for it?"
Elaine shook her head. "Bill was. A bit. More about Steve."
That made sense, knowing what she did of her father. "If she asks..."
Again, Elaine nodded. "Always."
The conversation probably would have driven Holly up a wall. They'd left out pages and pages of backstory. But for Gail, it was enough to know her mother had Vivian's back. That Elaine saw the direction that Gail did as well.
"It's funny. All that time they spent, making sure only the right people married in, only dedicated people who would make policing better, and it blew up in their faces. They lost everything, and a lesbian's adopted daughter picked it back up the right way."
Elaine smirked. "I wonder if she'll get my old office one day."
They both laughed. The way only people who knew the Pecks could laugh.
Transcendence was a wonderful thing, decided Holly.
She reached down and tried to tug at the hair at the base of Gail's neck, but only managed to swipe at the soft skin there. Still, her wife understood and momentarily was lying along side her, smiling.
"Hey," Gail said softly, and kissed the corner of Holly's mouth.
"Mmm," was her only reply, and she curled into Gail's soft warmth, letting her eyes drift closed.
This did not seem to bother the other woman, who wrapped arms around Holly and settled into an easy embrace. Gail was quiet, one hand absently caressing the skin on Holly's back.
The night had not been as Holly had expected, though she absolutely wasn't complaining. When she'd come home, Gail had not yet returned. An hour later, Gail was back, cooked dinner, and then made a suggestion.
Dinner was still sitting downstairs.
No regrets.
Holly breathed in the smells around her. It wasn't something most people she'd slept with had found appealing, or even comfortable. And Gail, even the very first time, had just asked why Holly was inhaling deeply, laughed, and kissed her. So even now, decades later, the other woman was perfectly content with being sniffed after sex.
Human brains were funny things. Holly's was cheerfully dumping all sorts of lovely chemicals into her body, telling her that sex was wonderful and Gail smelled so damn attractive, and the evening's activists had been perfect. The delicious ache in her muscles tended to agree with the brain. In fact, her whole body did. Except one part.
"Hungry," mumbled Holly.
"Think you can shower?"
"Oh. Fine. Be that way." Holly grimaced and kissed Gail's collarbone before sitting up. "Thank you."
"Any time," replied the blonde, and she slithered out of bed with far more energy than was fair.
Holly shook her head and watched the blurry form of her wife disappear into the bedroom. As hungry as she was, her body was in the languid state of lethargy that did not encourage much movement. It was nice that part of their life hadn't changed much in the years.
The actual mechanics of sex had altered as they had. Some things they couldn't do anymore, due to lack of flexibility. Other things had become more fun. And of course they'd learned a lot about each other along the way. Like Gail was amazingly good at some things. Like holy hell, mind blowing, good.
"Hey, honey, are you sure I'm the only woman you slept with?"
"Well there was a one night stand with Frankie," replied Gail, shouting over the shower.
Holly giggled. That had been a long running joke. "How come you were so crap at boyfriends?"
"Probably something to do with them," Gail remarked. Then the water turned off. "What brought that on?"
"You're really good at sex."
A bright laugh preceded Gail's return from the shower. "I had a great teacher." She leaned in while passing and kissed Holly's cheek. "Go shower. I'll make a plate."
Holly sighed and fumbled her glasses on just in time to watch Gail pull on a robe and head downstairs. "I'm really lucky!"
"Hell yeah, you are!"
Holly was still in a buoyant mood the next day when she got one of the cases she'd always dreamed about.
"Tell me that again?" She nudged her glasses up her nose and studied the baby detective, Lara, in front of her. Good lord, the kids in Vivian's class were growing up.
"We have a report of a murder. In a locked room." She pointed at the panic room door in front of them.
Holly turned to look at the door and beamed ear to ear. "A locked room. And we know it's a murder..."
"The contents of the room are recorded and automatically sent to the security company." Lara held up a tablet and pressed play on a surprisingly clear video of a man, sitting at the desk in the room, when a second man walked into the frame from nowhere, shot him, and walked back out.
Except there was no out.
It was just a wall.
It really was the kind of case most people in her position dreamed about. They made TV about crazy things like that. Holly shivered a little in delight. Gail was going to be so pissed she missed it.
"And we can't get in?"
"No, ma'am."
Holly glanced over where Vivian was standing, looking like Gail or Steve in the moments of absolute frustration and annoyance. Her arms were crossed and she had her head tilted to the side just a little. Okay that last bit was Holly, not Gail. But still.
"How long has Boom Peck been standing like that," she asked of Lara, her voice low and quiet.
"About forty minutes," replied Lara. "The ... Superman scanner thingy can't see in."
"Don't we have the video feed?"
Lara nodded and pulled up another video. "This is the live feed. We tapped into the line directly, so it's not even via the security company."
So why was Vivian so cranky? Holly tilted her head, aware of the mirror effect. "She wants to see everything inside."
"She doesn't like going in blind."
Wait. What? "You mean she's not trying to figure out how to break in?"
"Nah, she figured that out about ten minutes into getting the schematics. Said she has to go in on that wall," Lara pointed. "Apparently it's a known structural flaw when panic rooms are added in later. The override requires knowing the owner's passcode or having biometrics. Which ETF said is the easy part."
So that meant Vivian probably thought the killer was still in the room.
"Besides stare at the door, what's she done?"
"Watched the video a lot."
Hm. "Play it again?"
Lara nodded and played it again. This time Holly watched for where the killer appeared and disappeared, but it didn't work. Her eyes were too old or nowhere good enough to figure it out. There was clearly something Vivian had seen.
Then Holly watched the time stamp.
"The killer is moving really slowly," she pointed out.
"Vivian says it's to avoid motion detection. That's why the lights turn off a bit later."
And the killer vanished the moment the camera flipped from day to night vision. Oh. "Well we know how the killer did the trick then. We just don't know ... what the trick is."
Vivian spoke up. "I do. Actually. I just need to make sure we catch the idiot. I'm not sure where they are right now."
The young detective froze. "What?"
"It's a classic hidden wall." Vivian turned around and took the tablet, queuing up the video. "Right here, the killer exits from a fold in the wall. Now, based on the location of the couch compared with videos from two months ago, someone put in a fake wall and moved everything in the room by about 20 centimetres."
Yeah, Holly grinned at her kid's brains. "How did they build the wall?"
"There was evidence of a clip on the cat cable leading into the room," explained Vivian. "Likely they filmed a loop of the room empty and then built it out."
"An Ella Fitzgerald," mused Holly.
"A what?" Lara stared at Holly.
"Is it real or is it Memorex?" When Lara didn't look more enlightened, Holly sighed. "If you can't tell if a thing is live or a recording, you call it an Ella Fitzgerald con."
"That's not a real thing," Vivian grumbled. "Question remains, how did the killer get in, and how far around does the fake wall go? I can't get a good view of the wall by the door, so it's possible there's an exit right there."
Which was risky. Someone could end up killed.
"Normal procedure," continued Vivian, "would be to pump in gas to knock out anyone in there. But I don't want to screw up evidence." She looked at Holly and arched an eyebrow.
That was her boat, eh. "What gasses do you have?"
"Tear gasses, mostly." Vivian listed off three.
Innocently, Lara asked, "Knockout gas?"
Both Holly and Vivian shook their heads and said "No." Holly smirked and gestured at Vivian.
Vivian narrowed her eyes. "There's no such thing as knockout gas. The Russians used a Fentanyl based product, but it has a high chance of killing people."
Lara hesitated. "Oh fine, that would be bad. Never know the motive." She waved a hand. "Will tear gas be that bad for evidence?"
Everyone looked at Holly. "Yes," she said firmly. On multiple levels. There would be trace on everything, which was bad enough. The real drama was what the trace was. They'd have to clean it and be extra careful not to contaminate the tools. And the smell. Ugh.
She'd done a few autopsies on bodies that had been sprayed with tear gas. It was miserable.
Vivian nodded. "Well. This will be fun. Let's clear the room of non-essentials." And she gave Holly a significant look.
"At least let me watch on video," beseeched Holly.
Four people with the last name of Peck were grinning ear to ear as the story was told. And it creeped Vivian out. Even Jamie was paying rapt attention to Holly's retelling.
"And then they kicked me out," explained Holly.
"As well they should," Gail said with a stern look at Vivian.
Vivian sighed and held her hands up. "Honestly, Mom." She rolled her eyes. "It wasn't like you couldn't watch on the video."
Holly grinned. "I didn't want to be in the room," she said sincerely. "But ... tell them how you opened the door."
That had been pretty cool, Vivian had to admit. "The killer got in because it's easy to open if you know the passcode," started Vivian. "But once the door's locked from the inside, you have to open it from the inside."
"Seems a little shortsighted," said Traci. "What if you need medical attention?"
"Whole point of a panic room is to lock yourself in," pointed out Steve. It was the first family dinner Steve and Traci had been to in months, since Holly's birthday. Vivian rather liked having them around again.
Elaine made a disappointed noise. "They're ridiculous ideas. Of course they have to be openable from the outside. Just like a safe from the inside."
Beside her, Jamie half lifted a hand. "Safes are hard to open from inside?"
"Easier than they should be, harder than you'd think," replied Vivian. "And really a safe that fits people is a vault. They're often built to lock people inside. Reverse it and you have a panic room. This one used electromagnetic mortise locks, built into the door. Cut the power, locks stay closed. No keys, no keypads. Biometrics, which again won't work if you cut power."
Her relatives looked impressed. "Wouldn't the video feed be a vulnerability?" Gail swirled her wine around in the glass thoughtfully. "You can see him. He can't see you?"
"Oh he had access to see us. Video inside the room showed a 360 degree fisheye of the outside. Of course," drawled Vivian, "if you're not used to it..."
Gail cackled. "You spun his trick back at him. Mirrors and angles." Vivian lifted her glass to her mother and they clinked. "How'd you pop the door?"
"Didn't. We pumped harmless smoke into the room. Freaked him out."
There was a pause at the table and everyone broke out laughing, except Holly. Which was fair, she'd already known. "I loved it," said Holly, grinning broadly. "I'm a little disappointed you didn't pop the lock."
Vivian shrugged. "If he'd waited me out, I would have. But it's a half hour job at best."
Her technological plan was simple as well. Biometrics were easy enough to forge. Fingerprints could be printed on soft plastic, capped on fingers, and pop a lock in minutes. The code would take a little while, since she'd have to reroute the system alarms. The security system being aware of her actions meant the police (hah) wouldn't be called. Circumventing the automatic lockout was a measure of tricking the computer time to ignore the default check of how many passwords were tried in how short a time.
Vivian would have had to write the program on the fly, which would have been cool. But no. The creative way was faster, efficient, and more fun. As Elaine put it, it was much more Peck. In the tone that meant the good parts of Pecks.
"It helped that he was spying on us," said Holly.
Jamie blinked. "How'd he do that?"
"The inside can watch the outside of the panic room," explained Vivian. "That's standard. Audio and video."
"So," continues Holly. "Vivian declared she absolutely had to use tear gas. For the safety of everyone. And I got to yell at her and call her names." Vivian and Holly shared a grin. That had been incredibly fun. "Lara hauled me off, and Vivian pumped in plain smoke. The man came running out, tears streaming down his face."
Elaine chortled. "Please tell me you recorded it."
"It's evidence." To Jamie, Vivian added, "It may air at trial. If there is one."
"If?" Jamie sounded disappointed.
"Kinda hard to plead guilty with all the evidence." Gail chortled. "Good job kid. Jamie, you better give her some hero thanks."
Hours later, after dinner and a drive home, Vivian found herself the recipient of some hero thank-yous. Feeling deliriously sore in the right ways, she stretched and rubbed at her right wrist. The red mark was lingering longer than normal.
"Was it too tight?"
"No. I think the new strap on my computer rubbed it this morning." She'd barely even used it but she had to wear the arm computer crap every time. Vivian's gear was getting more and more complex every year.
Jamie huffed and reached over, inspecting the inside of Vivian's wrist. "Velcro?"
"Yeah, I'm going to take it apart tomorrow, I think. Put the soft side down."
"Why would they do it the other way?"
"So it doesn't catch on my clothes and fray them, I guess." Vivian wriggled her fingers and Jamie laughed. "You wear buckles and not a lot of Velcro."
Her girlfriend nodded and settled her head against Vivian's shoulder, still inspecting the wrist and hand. "It's nasty shit in a fire."
Right. Vivian knew that. "S'why Apollo 1 was so horrible," she remarked.
"The space shuttle?"
"The one that blew up on the launch pad."
Jamie made a noise. "How do you just remember that stuff." She laced their fingers together.
How indeed. That wasn't a Holly thing. Jerry was totally into space, already in college studying it. But Vivian had just found it fascinating. Not that she wanted to leave the planet, just that the concept of how they'd engineered it all was cool.
"I just like it, I guess," she demurred.
Her girlfriend accepted that. "We could get more padded cuffs," she offered. "Not fuzzy ones, but ... I know they have lined ones. Gail probably knows where we would check 'em out local... and nooooow my life is weird." Jamie stuck her tongue out. "Why did I talk about sex with your mother?"
Vivian snickered. "Hey, I don't know why you went to Gail for sex advice either."
"I didn't! I went for coffee, and sex advice showed up." Jamie's skin turned darker, her cheeks burning red. "She sucks."
"Yeah, but I appreciated it," she admitted, and tugged their linked hands so Jamie was more on her.
Turning, Jamie smirked. "You were very appreciative." Letting go of Vivian's hand, Jamie moved around and kissed her.
They did that for a while. Sort of lazily kissing without any intended direction. It was still a little novel, but Vivian did like it a lot. A lot, a lot. Intimacy without sex. Not that there was anything wrong with sex, she liked that a lot too. But this was something else.
After a time, Jamie sighed and put her head on Vivian's boob. "But we should find better cuffs."
Well. Probably. They didn't really work well for Vivian's longer arms and Jamie's normal ones. "Holly'd probably know." Maybe Frankie. Though Vivian did not want to ask Frankie. "Oh I bet Jenny would know where to go."
Jamie hmmed. "You want to tell your classmates you're into that?"
"Eh. They probably think we just make sweet sapphic lady love."
There was a pause and Jamie snickered loudly. "Oh my god. Who said that?"
"Chloe. I was a kid. Shot my soda out my nose." Vivian smiled at the memory of Gail's outrage to the statement.
"That's great," Jamie said, and giggled. "Your family is so wild."
"I'll ask Jenny for some good sex shops."
"How are you a lesbian who doesn't know any?"
"Hey, you don't!"
"I'm broke. You're upper middle class, smart ass." Jamie poked her ribs.
Vivian squirmed and sighed. "They're just ... not my thing." Holly had taken her shopping, with Elaine of all people, but Vivian absolutely did not like the experience. It had been a female owned shop, but it catered to heterosexuals, and she felt that mattered. Later, after Gail had pointed out the return policies were the same, she'd moved to mail order. Do her own research, read a lot, figure out what she probably liked.
Since dating Jamie, some of that had changed. Not a huge lot, but enough. Jamie liked a different kind of vibrator, for example. That was expected. But there were other things Jamie had been into that Vivian had not tried before. Some she liked, some she didn't, and some left her interested enough to want to upgrade items.
"I think you're avoiding talking to your moms about sex," declared Jamie, sounding very amused.
Vivian paused and laughed. "No. They're just not into this."
"Since when has that stopped their inappropriate comments on our sex life?"
Okay, so Holly had asked if Jamie was satisfying Vivian. Sexually. Once. And in a very Holly way. Gail hadn't beaten around the bush and directly asked Vivian if Jamie was good in the orgasm department. And if they needed any advice in the sex toy department.
But the full answer to why Vivian wasn't about to ask her mothers about this was just... a mood killer.
That was funny, if a person were demented like the Pecks. Few people were. Jamie... Well. Vivian wasn't quite sure.
It was time to find out.
"Gail was kidnapped and held hostage by a serial murderer," she explained carefully. Gail had already given her permission to talk about this. "Tied up for a few hours in a basement, then the trunk of the a cab. So. She's not really okay with tying people up. Even Holly."
And frankly, Vivian suspected the idea of bondage and s&m would have been outside Gail's comfort zone anyway. Hurting people, for fun, was not her world. It wasn't really Vivian's either, but undoubtedly trying to explain the semantics with Gail would be uncomfortable and confusing for everyone.
Now, Elaine was a different matter. She'd be a great dom, though privately Vivian suspected Elaine would be a very happy sub if she could ever find someone she trusted enough. Holly probably would understand it intellectually. But as far as Vivian could suss out, Holly wasn't terribly adventurous. Except for the whole boat thing.
And Gail would freak out. Not out loud. Not in a way easily understood by most people. But she would have a nightmare and be stressed for days and antagonize Holly. It would be a bad trip.
But that was all shit Vivian knew. So she watched Jamie's face as her girlfriend processed the information.
"That joke..."
"Not a joke, just Gail trying to cope."
"How many hours?"
"About eighteen."
Jamie nodded and sat up, her face very still. "Jesus, yeah, we can't ask her that." Abruptly, Jamie took Vivian's hand and rubbed her wrist. "Shit, we can't even let her know."
Okay, that was adorable. Jamie was panicking that the very idea would trigger Gail. She worried about Vivian's mother. Vivian smiled and pulled Jamie back against her, "Hey hey, relax."
"Seriously? You just told me our kink might freak out your mom."
"Which is why we won't tell her."
"She's gonna see your wrist, Viv."
"Maybe, yeah, but it's not like that." Vivian ran her fingers through Jamie's hair. "It's ... Besides the fact that we can deflect Gail about sex forever by teasing her about every single time I've caught her and Holly in flagrante delicto, it's not going to come up."
Jamie made an unhappy noise. "I don't know if I like doing ... it, if I know it'd freak people out."
"Well, what do your folks think."
There was a pause. "Okay, fine, good point. They don't know."
"Normal people don't talk about this stuff, Jamie."
"Your parents are anything but normal."
"In this, I think they are."
With the aim of someone who practiced far too often, Gail tossed a pencil over her shoulder and nailed the picture of her mother in the eye.
"Why does she have a Poirot moustache," asked John.
"We saw that movie recently." Gail admired her work. "Okay. Run it again."
John looked at his tablet. "Cook calls emergency, says there's a homeless guy in the dumpster. Cops show up, finds an arm. Fingers burned off, Dr. Ury says it's probably acid. No identifying marks, except a tattooed area, also acid burned. Blood didn't ping anything, no useful trace."
"A useless arm."
The only amusing part had been the cop, Christian Fuller, who had laconically announced that it wasn't a person, it was just an arm. The dispatch recording had been funny as hell.
Funny as hell didn't solve cases, however. It made them harder, because the joke was more interesting than the case. With difficulty, Gail pushed the funny part out of her head and thought about the arm.
"Any knife marks on the skin were lost to the rats," she said softly. "What about the bone?"
"Bone expert hasn't had a chance to look at it. She's, and I quote, busy."
The bone expert was, of course, Holly. Who was still a little backed up in the lab. Mostly because her back was hurting again. That back problem was going to get Holly out of her beloved job faster than anything else, and they both knew it.
"Well." Gail sucked on her lower lip. "Put it up on the wall."
John arched his eyebrows. He caught the implication.
Decades together meant Gail had seen countless cases of damaged bones. She wasn't an expert. But Gail didn't have to be an expert here. She just had to know enough to find a direction. And she did. Most of the time. Enough of the time.
"She's gonna kick your ass if we get this wrong," said John as he cast the pictures to the wall.
Gail felt her old nature of stubbornness and reactiveness kick in. "Then I won't be wrong."
Her friend and partner snorted. Loudly.
She ignored him and looked at the wall. There were a couple small nicks on the shoulder socket thingy. Fine marks. Gail got up from her desk and walked up to look closer. Small, fine, lines. Shallow at the edges, deeper the closer one got to the centre. Like the bone was prized off.
"Muscle connects the bone to bone," she said absently. But the muscle wasn't where the knife, or blade, or pointy thing marks were.
"How would you dismember a body?" John's tone was a hint. He saw it too.
"Like I'd spatchcock a chicken," replied Gail automatically. "Knife in, turn it, pop the joint as you rotate, slice through the tendons and muscle. Lot harder with a human, though."
"Just the scale change?"
"Human arms turn different than chicken drumsticks."
John made a face. "Remind me not to come over for dinner on chicken night."
"You asked." She tapped the bone. "This bit, they had to stick something in, something thin and pointy, and use it for leverage. What kind of business was it found by?"
"Yogurt shop."
Shit. That was fucking useless. Gail couldn't think of a single thing that was long, thin, and strong enough that was common to a yogurt shop. Unless. "Frozen or fresh?"
"Frozen."
That might work. "And who found it?"
"The arm? Homeless guy."
Gail frowned. "Was he a regular?"
John was quiet for a moment. "Yes. He collected the discarded metals and granola."
Oddly specific, the granola at least, but Gail could see it. Who was she to judge? Then she backtracked. "Discarded metals. Like what?"
"Containers for the ... toppings. Big cans of cherries and shit."
Industrial sized cans, sure. Okay. Those had sharp lids, but they were recyclable and probably netted a couple bucks easy. And then her brain did that thing Holly loved. It drove John crazy, but Gail's thought process went totally sideways. "Nitro frozen?"
John said nothing. Gail turned and looked at him. He was staring. "You're a fucking freak and I need to hear this."
Smiling Gail waggled her glasses in the air. "When I carve a bird, or pork, or beef, I scratch the bone. It's inevitable. But this bone, this only has the last bit. The final dig and pop. I don't see any missed cuts from slicing the muscle."
The man blinked and turned his focus to the wall. "Wait, what does that mean?"
"I bet we will find damage of freezer burn, or whatever technical thing they call it, on the bone. Because I think someone froze the muscles to break them instead of cut. And further, the spray wand could be used to to pop things loose."
"That is gross," muttered John. "And a stretch."
"Which is why you get to tell Holly, not me."
John took the picture off the wall. "She'll know it's you, Gail. She will literally look at me, let her glasses slide, and then do that annoyed eye roll that means you're infuriating and smart and if you were there, you'd probably defile the lab."
Gail made a face. "That's disgusting. The lab?"
"I heard rumours about the evidence room," he said dryly.
She flipped him off. "I'm your boss. Go be a good minion."
John paused at the door. "I'm sending Mayhew." Then he added, "He's weird, right?"
Given that Gail often thought Mayhew had been there forever, even though he hadn't been around as long as she or John, she had to agree. He was old and young. New and forever. A fixture and a greenhorn. He made no sense, and yet there he was.
"We should get him a partner," she mused.
"Probably. But he's okay right now. And so's Pedro. That was a smart idea, putting him with Marisol."
"One of my more brilliant. Yes." She beamed. "We are due a rook soon. Anyone you like?"
"Not at the moment. But the academy asked you to come and give a talk about illegal orders again."
Gail sighed. She'd done that a few times. Not since Vivian had graduated, though, which meant it was due again. Other people were capable of the same lecture, but Gail did understand why she was requested. The last three times she'd done her version, at least one person had ended up with the departmental therapist, freaking out.
That was seen as a good thing.
Sometimes Gail wasn't sure.
But she was one of the few people to have survived her family. And then taken them down. She'd survived a lot of things.
She eyed John. "Why do they always ask you to ask me?"
"Last time you told them where to fuck themselves," he replied absently. "Okay. I'm on it. I'll let your wife yell at me, you figure out how to teach babies about criminal orders."
Gail watched John leave before waiting for an answer. As expected. Some things weren't worth arguing about, and he was going to get an earful from Holly anyway.
This chapter feels very filler, and that's okay. A lot of little story bits are in place. We're aiming to an end, but that's still a bit away. Shoot me reviews about how you think it'll end :)
