Steve's sour mood hadn't improved much for the remainder of the holiday and he was somewhat grateful that only Hassejian had been around to share the empty bullpen with him.
Both detectives had volunteered for the double shift, allowing Mike, Haley, Lessing and Tanner some much overdue time off during a summer that had been filled with homicides, causing vacation back-ups and staffing issues when they could least afford it.
And for the most part, it had been a relatively quiet holiday.
Norm answered a call about a possible homicide first thing in the morning, a case that would likely turn out to be an accidental overdose judging by the evidence the Armenian detective had gathered at the victim's apartment thus far.
Then there was his call.
Steve yawned and stretched the arms behind his head, trying to get more comfortable. After tossing and turning for almost an hour and with his two pillows up against the nearby window, his bed was officially a mess.
Glancing off to the left, he could see the continuation of fireworks over the Bay, giant red, white and blue balls of fire erupting in the clear sky close to midnight.
Taking a deep breath and feeling the loosely draped checkered tie slide from his chest onto the fleece comforter, he grunted in frustration, feeling an unwelcome sense of helplessness when it came to the brakes the current holiday had put on the investigation of his latest murder case.
Still on call and still fully dressed except for the cream-colored shirt he'd unbuttoned halfway down his chest; Steve couldn't get his mind to relax no matter how hard he tried.
Subconsciously keeping an eye on both, the telephone on his nightstand and the nearby clock by his lit- up desk lamp on top of a small dresser, he'd been lying in bed pondering since he'd come home around ten.
The startling carelessness, downright disruptiveness of the general public at his crime scene was bothering Steve more than he cared to admit. And part of him wished Mike would have been there so he could see how the seasoned Lieutenant would handle such blunt disregard to anything surrounding the untimely death of a fellow human being.
One thing was for certain- he probably would have dealt with it a lot more maturely.
A faint knock on the front door interrupted his deep brooding and Steve slowly climbed out of bed, curious about the late hour company, even wondering if something was wrong with his phone that might cause Hassejian to drive over and grab him for yet another homicide.
Walking down the short hallway and making a tight left turn to prevent stubbing his toe on the living room couch once again, he carefully opened the door, surprised when it wasn't the Armenian detective greeting him on the other side after all.
"I am so glad you are awake, munchkin. Kinda figured you would be. You never sleep."
"Lydia…"
His features lit up instantly at the sight of his beloved neighbor, a nurse eighteen months from retirement, who'd moved in next door a year or so ago.
It hadn't taken long for Steve to realize that they shared a lot more than just the crazy work hours.
Holding a plate of freshly baked goodies in one hand, she reached forward to push the door farther open, then slid past him to head for the kitchen.
"I figured we…well, we celebrate the military and our freedom and independence and everything on the 4th, but nobody ever appreciates what you boys in blue go through in this town. So there you go, my sweet Inspector. Happy 4th of July, and thank you from the bottom of my heart for keeping us safe!"
With her silver hair tied up in a neat bun, Lydia reached for the light switch by the stove, causing him to squint against the unwelcome brightness.
"I made some of your favorites. Oatmeal raisin, a few chocolate ones for good measure, some macadamia nut ones too. And a coconut crisp one, I found the recipe in one of my baking magazines. You'll have to let me know how you like it."
Over the past few months, the widowed nurse who had no children of her own, had taken him under her wing, keeping an eye on his apartment during the long work hours and making sure there was always something in his fridge besides beer.
He'd tried to reciprocate the kindness a few times, bringing the petite lady takeout dinner and even flowers, but ultimately it seemed that the only acceptable form of gratitude working for Lydia was to talk to her, make her feel a little less lonely. And most of all, give her a purpose to get up in the morning, even if it meant to dote on him.
"How was your workday? You look worn-out, sunshine. Did you eat anything yet today? Or, let me rephrase that…did you eat anything that wasn't sugar or salt-laden?"
In her motherly ways, Lydia checked several of his cupboards for plates, satisfied when her search ended successfully after the second try. Slowly closing the door behind them, Steve smiled in deep gratitude and leaned against the back of his couch, watching the nurse intrigued.
"I had some soup for lunch. And coffee. And…and then some more coffee."
"I figured as much.", the older lady scoffed and pulled the protective wrap off her cookie sheet, "Lucky for you, we don't count calories on holidays now, do we? So, eat up. Enjoy those cookies. I didn't use a bunch of sugar and the raisins are good for you. I guess one of these days, I am going to have to open up a food court in that office of yours. You guys live very unhealthy lives. There are plenty of things out there on those streets that can kill you, don't make diabetes and high blood pressure another factor."
Smiling at Lydia's incessant fussing, Steve reached for the loose tie still dangling around his neck and carefully draped it over the couch, before following the nurse into his kitchen.
"You're always welcome to put out a PSA bulletin in the office, see if you can convince Mike to switch from sinkers and coffee to…to salads and green tea."
They both chuckled for a brief moment, enjoying the unlikely friendship that had developed between them over the past few months. Dozens more fireworks sounded off in the distance, some of them large enough to make the ground below shake slightly.
Reaching forward to taste-test one of the oatmeal raisin cookies, Steve leaned over the small kitchen island, absent-mindedly staring at his handcuffs and service revolver lying there, patiently waiting for the next call to arms.
"What do you think it is with people getting…getting their rocks off looking at dead bodies? I mean, what went wrong in someone's childhood to find that…entertaining?"
"Oh, Steve, baby, I knew there was something bugging you."
Circling the island, Lydia sat down on one of the two small bar chairs beside him and reached over to squeeze his shoulder.
"Well, from my perspective in the ICU…", she began quietly, her hand moving to his upper back and performing small circles that were quickly putting him to sleep, "People are like…well, they have no concept of death. Not like you and I have, that's for sure. They're not exposed to it on a daily basis. They live in their tiny little snow globe-type world, not realizing that they're just one mistake, one bad decision or one bad accident away from death. Ironically enough though, while they're in complete denial of their own mortality, people tend to be extremely intrigued with the concept of death, blood, gore…you name it. It's the craziest thing, but I've seen it over and over again, Steve."
Swallowing the last bite of the delicious cookie, he nodded and shamelessly reached for another one. The self-serving gesture did two things; settle his empty stomach and bring a satisfied smile to Lydia's face early that morning.
"That tends to backfire when it's one of their family members who's under that white sheet though."
"You got that right.", Lydia said and turned around to reach for a cookie herself, "People are strange when it comes to death. I gave up wondering about their motivation years ago. Heck, I can't remember how many times we've pulled people off life support and the next-of-kin go hog crazy when we try to remove the body after everyone's said their good byes. They can't wait for grandma to croak and collect the inheritance, but suddenly, grandma's body is a sacred relic and can't be touched."
They both giggled before falling quiet again, as the noises from outside continued to disrupt their profound conversation.
"You're still on call, aren't you, sweetheart? Unless I was wrong about you all along, and you're some weirdo who sleeps in his clothes."
Lydia affectionately played with his dress shirt, carefully adjusting the collar where it had unfolded during one of his restless turns in bed.
"Yeah. I'm still on call. Hoping people can refrain from murdering each other for a precious few more hours until I have my partner back by my side."
"It gets lonely sometimes, doesn't it? Running the show yourself? You're surrounded by so many people and yet, without that one person, you feel utterly alone and lost."
Her caring words resonated with his lonely soul on that early morning and Steve couldn't help but nod.
"You're going to think I am crazy, munchkin, but it's true. Down at Franklin, I work with this doctor. His name is Steve too. Steve Murphy. He's a cardiologist, one of the two we have there.", Lydia's blue eyes drifted over his darkened living room as she said that, a wealth of emotions playing in her sad features, "And every time I work with him, it seems that we're a seamless unit, you know? I don't have to say much of anything, he knows what I am about to tell him. He gets it. It makes our job so much more bearable despite all the…all the death and drama, you know? Well, now he's moving over to Saint Francis."
"I am sorry to hear that."
It was the only thing that came to his tired mind and Steve glanced over at his neighbor in time to see a tear rolling down her cheek.
"Me too. I'd selfishly hoped he'd hang around until I retire. Silly me."
Sensing that there was a little more than professional courtesy going on in the widow's work life, he carefully reached over to wipe the tear away. Appreciating the treasured gesture, Lydia grasped his hand and kissed his palm, leaning into it for support as she tried hard to contain her emotions.
"Oh Steve, you are so lucky I have thirty years on you, otherwise you'd be mine."
Glancing over at him mischievously, she let go of his hand before resting an elbow on his kitchen island to be more comfortable.
"It's just a few city blocks away, Lydia. You could follow him…I hear they always look for good nurses."
"Not this late in the game, sweetie. Not for me anyways. I'd have a whole new staff to work with and it just…I just wouldn't be the same. I'll survive. I always do. It's what people like us do, isn't it, Steve? We hope for the best, expect the worst, and toughen it out regardless."
"Something like that, yeah…"
He was just about to reach for another cookie, when the phone in his bedroom rang. Sharing an ominous glance with the petite nurse, Steve excused himself, knowing well enough what would await him on the other end of the line.
And perhaps Lydia was exactly right about one thing.
No matter what was headed his way until this shift was over, he'd hope for the best, expect the worst, and toughen it out regardless.
