Mike slammed the phone receiver down loud enough that the rest of the detectives in the bullpen turned around, staring at him in bewilderment, before resuming their frantic research.
Grunting in frustration at the fourth call that hadn't yielded the desired outcome, he rubbed his forehead, then decided to walk off the agitation before trying yet another angle.
First thing in the morning, he'd sent Steve down to R&I, seeing if he'd be able to dig up anything on the patrons that visited Carigio's bar, hoping to find more evidence than just cash transactions in the accounting paperwork. Perhaps even a pattern, or convenient slide of money.
With Forester painfully absent and unaccounted for even as 10AM approached, Mike had devoted his morning to tracking down any leads on who all attended the weekend getaway at the Mill Valley shooting range.
Despite being supported by warrants and urgent pleas, the news-wide fear mongering when it came to the possible disarmament of any high-powered rifle owners due to the mass shooting was enough to cause a slew of resistance during each phone call, encourage hesitation and self-imposed red tapes when it came to digging for information.
The first excuse had been that there was no such thing as a guest list for the small lodge residing on the property of the gun range. Later, there was indeed a waiting list, but it was informal and thrown out after the fact. Soon he found out that guests did have to sign in but not provide proof of identity. His last passionate prying revealed that photo ID was required to enter the premise of the shooting range, as well as to overnight on the property, whether it was in the lodge or a nearby campsite.
Quite aware that his men were keeping an eye on him from below their bowed heads, he paced the length of the bullpen a couple of times, eventually stopping at the wall of gray file cabinets that lined the north end of the large office.
Sighing, as he rested his forearms on top of them, Mike stared blankly at the wall ahead, trying to clear his mind of the agitation clouding his thinking.
Instead of some much-needed serenity, it was a firm pat on the shoulder that pulled him out of his deep state of concentration.
"What is that? I come in late after some intense research and you look all discouraged, Lieutenant. You do like me after all and missed my presence. What an honor."
Forester's cheery voice did nothing to raise his spirits this morning and he turned around wearily, surprised to see the usually stern-faced man smile.
"One more hour and I was going to call out an APB on you.", Mike replied curtly, only to see the other man shake his head.
"As much as that would seem like a caring thing to do for someone who you obviously have grown fond of, such as myself, I can assure you that I was taking all precautions necessary to stay safe in this wonderful city of yours."
Nervously readjusting his blue baseball cap, Forester slowly returned to Mike's office, the Lieutenant following behind.
"You see Stone, I was trying myself out on your SFPD-style investigation method, you know. Walk the streets, ask questions, get a feel for the city and its residents."
Growing worried about just what Forester's social experiment entailed, Mike stopped at the coffee table, treating himself to a fresh cup to prepare for the inevitable.
"Well, in that case, I am glad to have you back in one piece.", he teased good-naturedly and sat down on the corner of his desk in time to see the insecure frown on the other man's face.
"Yeah, it does seem that people communicate differently around here. Not as direct as I am used to. They like to beat around the bush as much as you guys do. Needless to say, I didn't get as much accomplished as I'd hoped for."
Turning around briefly, Forester gestured at his partner's empty desk.
"What'd you do with Barney? He out sick?"
"For the last time, it's Inspector Keller.", Mike shot back, more hostile than intended, a reaction that caused the other man to raise his eyebrows suspiciously, "And he's fine. I sent him downstairs to do some research."
"You know, Lieutenant, it completely escapes my sense of reasoning how a sensitive young chap like Barney can pair with a hard-nosed, ill-tempered, set-in-his-way grouch such as yourself. How do you two not kill each other on a daily basis? How in the world are you making this work?"
Deciding that it was time to pull that ace out of his pocket, Mike straightened out his red and black striped tie, before smiling at Forester triumphantly.
"Oh, I'd say the same way you made it work with your rookie partner, Captain. What was that again? They stuck you with him and all of a sudden, you became inseparable?"
Thoroughly enjoying the look of utter shock on Forester's face, Mike sipped on his coffee, letting the tense silence between them do the talking for a while.
"How did you know that? Did Barney tell you?"
"No. No, Steve didn't tell me anything. I didn't even know that he knew.", Mike explained, sensing the shock turning into somber regret across the desk, "I did my own research. Talked to your old boss. Just like you said early on, it's important to do your homework before you let any Tom, Dick or Arthur partner with your department."
"Very nice, that was very funny, Lieutenant.", Forester said, before his expressive brown eyes grew sad again, "Well, then I don't need to remind you to watch over those young chaps, especially when they care too much. That kind of thinking gets good cops killed all the time. And I'd hate to see a repeat of what happened to Matt."
With a sympathetic smile, Mike reached forward to squeeze the other man's shoulder, sensing the overbearing guilt he understood too well.
"Don't worry. I won't allow for that to happen; not while I have a breath left in me."
"You have no idea how much that comforts me, knowing that you are so damn stubborn, quite possibly too stubborn to die. You're probably gonna outlive all of us with that fierce temper."
Knowing that the words weren't meant to hurt his feelings, Mike nodded, somewhat able to relate to Forester's observation if he was truly honest with himself.
"Now Lieutenant, you still haven't told me what has you all wound up? Research not going as smooth as you'd hoped?"
"Something like that, yeah.", as both men effortlessly returned to detective mode, burying the past and its associated emotions under many layers of professionalism, experience and false assurances that there was nothing they could have done to prevent any of the past outcomes, Mike ran a hand across his face, symbolically switching gears, "I've been busting my teeth trying to get a guest list from that shooting range Carigio spent a weekend at. I was hoping if we know who was there, it narrows down our pool of possible thieves for that AK-47. But they're scared out of their minds that we're going to barge in there and take their guns away. So I've been getting nothing but a runaround all morning."
"Oh, I see. The old fear mongering thing. Yeah, that pops up each time there's a mass shooting. Don't worry Lieutenant, I can get you those answers."
Surprised, Mike straightened back out, his curious eyes scanning Forester.
"And what are you going to do that I haven't tried yet, Captain?"
"Well, didn't we just ascertain that you're better at some things than I am, and vice versa, Lieutenant? Your personality might work best on those San Francisco streets out there, charming witnesses and all that, but let me tell you, when it comes to phone conversations and reeling in some information, I am entirely unbeatable. I don't take no for an answer. And using the teeny tiny word federal in front of bigger, far more impressive- sounding words, always does the job."