Mike was slouched behind the wheel, his eyes glued to Hiraro's; he hadn't moved since the heavy front door had closed behind his partner over 45 minutes before. At this point, he wasn't even sure if he had blinked in all that time, his focus had been so intense.
He jumped, twisting in the seat and scowling in anger at the sudden sharp rap against the closed rear window behind him. And he found himself staring into the intense brown eyes and unsmiling face of a large, black uniformed officer, a nightstick in his hand, leaning almost into the open driver's window.
Mike swallowed heavily, his frown turning quickly into an almost embarrassed smile. He knew immediately what this was all about and he started to reach for the door handle as the cop asked politely, taking a step back, "Sir, could you get out of the car, please?"
Complying quickly, Mike did as he was told, clocking the second officer standing behind his car, watching him closely. The first cop cleared his throat, studying Mike carefully, before stating, "Sir, we've noticed you've been sitting in your car here for quite a while today, and you were here yesterday and the day before as well. Do you mind telling us why?" He sounded polite but Mike knew only too well the command behind the request.
He smiled disarmingly and snorted softly. "Officer…" he looked at the small nameplate on the cop's uniform, "Beltran, uh, is there somewhere more private we could talk?" He had reached into his jeans pocket and slipped his badge out, keeping it low and hidden as he flipped it open and glanced down.
Beltran followed the look, his eyes widening when he spotted the gold star, and his head came back up quickly. He studied the older man's face for a beat, glanced at his partner, then nodded. "Let's go in there," he said quietly, nodding over his right shoulder.
Mike looked past the cop and suppressed a chuckle. "Works for me," he smiled as he followed Beltran into the small donut shop, the second confused LAPD officer bringing up the rear.
As Beltran held the door open, he looked back. "Don't knock it, they make the best dunkers in town," he grinned, "not to mention the best coffee."
# # # # #
The sun was going down over the ocean when Steve finally emerged from Hiraro's and started down the street. He was almost bouncing out of his skin and it took all his professional self-control not to sprint up the street to the car. Halfway up the block he slowed, frowning. The blue sedan wasn't there.
He kept walking, his eyes snapping back and forth across the street, trying to locate Mike's car. His heart started to pound.
He was passing the spot where the Ford should have been parked when he heard a familiar whistle, softer than usual, and spun towards the sound. His partner, grinning softly, was standing in the recessed doorway of a small Korean restaurant.
Mike crossed slowly towards him, his hands in his pockets, trying to look casual but Steve could tell his was almost vibrating with curiosity. Throwing his arms wide and frowning, Steve glanced over his shoulder to where the car should have been. "What's going on?" he asked, shrugging.
"I'll tell you later," Mike answered smoothly, turning and starting up the street, hands still in his pockets in an attempt to maintain his apparent nonchalance. After a brief confused second, Steve fell into step beside him. A couple of beats later, Mike looked at him obliquely and prompted quietly, "Well…?"
Steve swallowed, trying to match the subdued energy, and smiled slightly. "Danny Harrison…" He saw the hitch in Mike's step and the fists clench in the pockets. He could hear Mike's relieved exhale and his smile got a little wider.
They had reached the corner and Mike turned to his left. Steve followed, looking up the street and spotting the blue sedan parked halfway down the block on the far side. They walked the rest of the way in silence. Mike got behind the wheel and, when both doors were closed, turned to the younger man and grinned. "Danny Harrison?"
Steve smiled and nodded. "Yeah. I introduced myself and he did the same right back, no hesitation."
Mike was tugging at his lower lip, thinking. His eyes narrowed. "You believe him?"
The younger man shrugged slightly. "I don't think he was onto me, and I don't think he was making it up on the spot. The bartender was well within earshot. If Lonsdale was lying, I think he would've reacted."
"Good, good. You used the Filipino restaurant ruse?"
Nodding enthusiastically, Steve chuckled. "Yeah. He went right for it. It sounds like a great place actually, maybe we should try it out if we get the chance," he continued with a laugh, taking a piece of paper out of his shirt pocket and holding it up. Mike shot him an amused scowl.
"What else did you get?"
"Well, I didn't want to seem too pushy so I asked him some generic questions about the Philippines and he was quite open about it, which surprised the hell out of me to be honest. It's like he's got nothing to hide, Mike," he said with a confused frown, stuffing the paper back in his pocket. "It felt to me like he's been back in the country a long time, and that he's been living in this area for quite awhile."
"Then this Danny Harrison will have a paper trail. You know what that means, right?" Mike asked rhetorically. "That means we're going back downtown tomorrow, we have work to do." He put the key in the ignition and started the engine. "You ate already, I take it?" he asked as he started to maneuver the car away from the curb.
"Yeah. You?"
"Ah," Mike began tentatively as the sedan started down the street, "well, not really… I had a couple of donuts and a coffee a couple of hours ago."
Steve frowned. "A couple of donuts?"
Chuckling, Mike snapped the turn signal on and made a right turn. "I'll tell you while I eat. There's that Chinese place near the motel I want to try." He glanced across the front seat and smiled enigmatically. "Were, ah… were there a lot of heavy smokers in the bar tonight?" he asked, wrinkling his nose.
Startled, Steve's eyebrows shot up and he swallowed involuntarily. "What?"
"Do me a favour and open your window, will ya? You smell like an ashtray." His smile got a little wider as he rolled his own window down and the cool night air filled the car.
# # # # #
"So they made you move the car?" Steve was pouring himself another small cup of green tea, trying not to laugh.
His chopsticks halfway to his mouth, Mike raised his eyebrows. "Well, they didn't come right out and say it but I got the gist. The donut store owner had complained that I was taking up a very important parking space." They both smiled. "Anyway, they were polite about it, I'll give them that." He popped a dumpling into his mouth.
"And they believed you?" Steve looked down at the table, trying to hide a smirk.
Chewing, Mike glared at him through narrowed eyes under a lowered brow. Swallowing, he chuckled as he reached out to spear a potsticker, "Well, they believed me after they called Lieutenant Evans," he chuckled, and the younger man joined in. He bobbed his eyebrows as he bit the end off the potsticker and started to chew.
Laughing, Steve leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. "I'll give Evans a call first thing in the morning and tell him we're coming in."
Mike nodded. "Good idea. You know what we have to do next, right?" He picked up the bowl of rice.
"Yeah," Steve sighed, "we gotta get his fingerprints. One of those Guinness glasses would be great, wouldn't it? But I think Doug the bartender would kinda get suspicious if we just picked it up and walked out with it, don't you?" His chuckle was mirthless.
Mike gestured briefly in his direction with the chopsticks. "I've got an idea about that, don't you worry," he said enigmatically and Steve sat back slowly, smiling with a slight frown.
# # # # #
"Jeez, and I thought our traffic was bad," Mike groused as the blue sedan crawled along the Santa Monica Freeway towards the downtown core. He glanced across the front seat; Steve was stretched out as far as he could manage, his eyes closed behind the dark glasses and his fingers laced across his stomach. "Well, I'm glad one of us is comfortable..."
"I did volunteer to drive and you did turn me down," came the quiet voice from the passenger seat.
"Well, we got here a lot faster yesterday... There must be an accident or something." He sighed in frustration. "What time did you tell him we'd be there?"
"Eight."
Mike glanced at his watch and snorted. "Well, we blew that one. At this rate we might not get there till nine."
At 8:45, the blue sedan turned into the Parker Center parking lot, its occupants getting out and almost jogging towards the tall, iconic white building. Both were slightly out of breath by the time they strode into the cavernous homicide bureau, scanning the busy room for Evans and Garabaldi.
"Sorry, sorry," Mike apologized as they approached, hands up, shaking his head in obvious frustration.
Both LAPD lieutenants smiled. "Don't worry about it, Mike, we've been dealing with LA traffic our entire lives," Garabaldi chuckled.
"And it's getting worse," Evans added with a shrug then he smiled. "But you guys being late let us get a jump start on what you need." He looked at Steve. "I've already sent the name Daniel Harrison to the DMV and up to Sacramento to see if a Daniel Harrison has been paying his taxes and for how long."
"And our Records Division is doing a search on that name as we speak," Garabaldi continued. "We should get those results soon; most of those records are in the computers now."
Mike looked at his partner and grimaced with an almost sad smile. "We're not as, ah... progressive yet, but we're getting there slowly." The younger man nodded in agreement with a slight shrug.
"Well, there are still some... hitches, I guess you could call them," Garabaldi chuckled, "but when it works like it should, it saves a lot of time and gruntwork, let me tell you. And with our caseload lately..." He finished with a heavy, knowing sigh.
Mike smiled self-consciously. "I'm really sorry we're adding to your workload -"
"Don't be crazy," Evans interrupted quickly, "we're glad you did." He glanced at his partner and Garabaldi nodded in enthusiastic agreement. "If this character really is the guy you think he is, we want to see him in handcuffs too."
With a tight-lipped smile, Mike nodded. "Thanks" he said quietly.
After a couple of silent seconds, Garabaldi softly cleared his throat. "Listen, ah, while we're waiting for those reports to start coming in, why don't you tell us what you guys want to do next?"
Smiling appreciatively, Mike glanced at Steve, who nodded and took a step closer to Evans' desk, sitting on the corner. "Well, we've got an idea we'd like to run past you."