His visit with Jimmy Desco had taken longer than expected, causing Steve to return to the bullpen around noon, despite his best efforts. By now every detective in the department sat at their respective desks, phones were ringing off the hook; mountains of paperwork were being shuffled around. The door to Mike's office was wide open and Steve could see Arthur Forester sitting in the Lieutenant's guest chair, intently studying case files and lab reports.
Sitting across from him, Mike was visibly annoyed, rubbing his forehead in agitation, eyes focused on some imaginary spot near the wall as if it would help keep his temper under control.
With a faint smile, Steve walked over to his desk, shedding out of his overcoat and car keys, eager to meet the newest addition to their investigative team. A note on his desk indicated that Hank had called while he was out, the message relaying that it wasn't an urgent matter and that he could get a hold of him on his home phone later in the afternoon.
Filing the information away for the time being, Steve grabbed a cup of coffee, before strolling over to Mike's office, his sheer presence lighting up the Lieutenant's features instantly.
"There you are! I was wondering what took you so long. I hope everything went well. Was Jimmy able to find anything?"
The overzealous greeting along with the cheery smile was unusual given the circumstances, and Steve glanced back at his partner in unmasked skepticism, shoving his free hand in the pocket of his light gray dress pants.
"Yeah, I am sorry I am late, I stopped at home for a minute to change clothes because…well, you don't want to know why. Oh and…yes…we did find something."
Forester had completely ignored his presence until he'd said that, his brown eyes finally leaving the file in front of him and glancing up at the young Inspector.
"What'd you find out, Barney?", he asked in a heavy Bostonian accent, seemingly surprised when the two detectives looked at him perplexed.
"I beg your pardon?"
Following Steve's question, Mike cleared his throat, trying hard to keep up the professional façade.
"Captain Forester, this in my partner, Inspector Stephen Keller."
His outstretched hand was met with a halfhearted shake and a disbelieving glare that made Steve feel like he'd just been summoned to the principal's office.
"Pleasure to meet you, Barney. They must really cut your guys' resources over here, that they're making you break in the rookies too, Lieutenant Stone. No wonder you guys are running around like chickens with your heads cut off. So what'd you find out…what's it again…Inspector Keller?"
Sharing a brief glance with Mike, an unspoken message to discuss the situation in private at a later time, Steve reached into his breast pocket, proudly surfacing a picture of their assailant as he entered the Tri-City Cab in question.
"It took Jimmy a while to track him down, but he got it eventually. The image is a bit fuzzy, but you can see the dark coat and jogging pants, along with the luggage that presumably holds the weapon."
Handing the image over to Mike first and earning a grateful nod for doing so, Steve watched the other man stare at it for a moment, then hand it back dismissively.
"That's all you got so far? That won't help you track down that man, Barney. You live in a city of how many thousands of people? Anybody could dress like that. It's not even enough for an APB. You'd be better off spending your time seeing a Psychic Reader than using this piece of information."
Steve managed to keep his expression unreadable despite a slight twitch in his right eye, and pursed his lips before an ill-tempered comment could escape them.
When he noticed the tense silence, Forester shrugged and pointed at the files, before clearing his throat.
"See, what I am talking about is that your killer will have changed his looks by now anyways. There is nothing in this photo that's 100% identifiable, not even the clothing. It won't hold up in court, and if it does get you a warrant of sorts, then your court system is even more corrupt than ours. What you guys need to do is figure out his next steps, find his lair. Nobody cares what he looks like at this point. More than likely, he's your average looking Joe Blow fitting perfectly into any suburban neighborhood where nobody would even begin to suspect him. The key to finding him isn't some fuzzy picture, but the psychological and evidence-based fingerprint he left behind. That's how you're going to find him."
With the mood in the small office deteriorating significantly, Mike stepped forward, symbolically placing himself between his partner and the arrogant FBI Captain, managing one last ulcer inducing smile.
"Well, how about you work on your end of things, and Steve and I, we're going to head to the lab downstairs, see if we can't find some…some finger prints left behind that'll help us figure this situation out."
A nervous shudder disrupted Forester's features for a fleeting moment, when he shrugged again.
"You guys are like busy bodies, always moving around here and there. Have you ever given it some thought to just sit in one spot and evaluate what you have, rather than run all over the place?"
Nodding superficially, Mike pushed his partner out the door, and pointed at the clock above the frame.
"That's why we appreciate having you here, Captain Forester, to assist in this investigation and our processes. We'll be back at 3pm."
Reaching for his overcoat and fedora, Mike barely gave his partner enough time to grab his belongings, before ushering him out of the bullpen and far away from the overbearing man.