Their plans for that evening settled, the four homicide officers had just returned from a visit to the cafeteria, all carrying mugs of fresh and remarkably drinkable coffee when the first report appeared on Evans' desk. It was from the DMV.

The LAPD lieutenant picked the fairly thick stack of papers up and settled behind his desk, starting to glance over the covering letter without saying a word. Steve shot a sideways glance at his partner and swallowed a smile. He could tell it was taking all of Mike's self-control not to reach across the desk, rip the report out of Evans' hand and start reading it himself.

Luckily, his Southern California counterpart started to voice what he was learning. "Well, believe it or not, the DMV has six Daniel Harrisons living in Venice and the Venice area, and there are 54 Daniel Harrisons in the LA area alone." He glanced up at Mike and raised his eyebrows. "That means they haven't included the San Fernando Valley or Orange County, for a start. But, luckily, they attached photocopies of their I.D.'s." He detached the six from the Venice area, which were on the top, and handed them to Mike. "Your boy one of them?"

Steve took a step closer as the older man quickly shuffled through the pages. He stopped on the fourth one; both San Francisco detectives nodded as one and Mike snorted in satisfaction. "That's him." He handed the paper back to Evans; Garabaldi had moved to behind the desk and was looking over his partner's shoulder.

Both LAPD lieutenants studied the photo and the address. Garabaldi took the paper from Evans', crossed to his own desk nearby and picked up the phone, glancing at their guests as he dialed. "Great. I'll get them to send us everything they have – what he drives, any tickets –" He stopped with a chuckle when he noticed the wide-eyed stare he was getting from his upstate counterpart. "Oh yeah, right, I don't really need to tell you guys, do I…?" he finished lamely with a soft, embarrassed shrug.

Letting him off the hook, Mike shook his head with a grin and a chuckle.

Laughing, Evans picked up his own phone. "Now that we have an address, I'll give Sacramento another call and let them know. And I'll call Venice and see what they can do for us." He raised his eyebrows and smiled grimly. "Hopefully, by the end of the day, we'll know more about this guy than his mother does."

Mike chuckled grimly. "Yeah, that's something we want to find out too… where his Mom and Dad are…"

# # # # #

Mike was at Evans' desk, Steve at Garabaldi's, going over photocopies of all the information that had been collected during the busy day, while they waited for the LAPD detectives to return from an unexpected meeting with a deputy chief.

Taking off his glasses and tossing them on the desk as he sat back with a sigh, Mike glanced at his watch. "I hope they get back soon… I want to get back to Venice." He looked at his partner and raised his eyebrows. "It's my turn tonight."

"Yes, it is," Steve agreed with a chuckle. "And I'm supposed to be trying out that Filipino restaurant tonight."

Mike laughed. "Maybe they do take-out… you can eat it in the car…"

"Yippee, car food again," the young man cheered mirthlessly. He looked up to spot their counterparts approaching and straightened up, not quite keeping the anticipation out of his expression. From the corner of his eye he saw Mike doing the same.

Evans grinned. "You can relax, both of you. We've got the green light. Whatever you need."

Steve grinned; Mike exhaled loudly. "Thank you." He hung his head for a beat then got to his feet, reaching out to shake both LAPD cops hands. "And you can have your desk back," he chuckled to Evans as he started to move away.

"No no no," Evans said quickly, waving him back down and dropping heavily into the guest chair, "sit back down." Garabaldi did the same to Steve. "So," Evans continued, "I know you guys want to get back down to Venice, and we won't hold you up." He glanced at his partner. "Phil and I have to get home and get changed so we don't look so… cop-ish…" He gestured at Mike. "I see you two've got the look down pat. The beard is filling in nicely…"

Mike stroked his chin, expressionless. "The second we arrest Lonsdale, it's coming off."

Steve snorted, dropping his head, his shoulders shaking.

Garabaldi, his eyebrows raised, looked from one partner to the other and laughed. "You sound like him," he said to Mike, nodding towards Evans.

Mike looked at the LAPD lieutenant and they nodded once at each other in agreement. "There's nothing wrong with being clean shaven," he said definitively for the benefit of the others, and Evans nodded again.

"Well…" Garabaldi continued with a smile in his voice, "now that we've established that…" Steve chuckled. "Shall we go our separate ways and meet up later tonight. We'll, ah, we'll know where you two are going to be," he said with a laugh, "so we'll get down there as soon as we can, but everything is set up."

# # # # #

Steve was behind the wheel, working his way through another bag of sunflower seeds, staring at Hiraro's through his dark glasses. They were parked further up the block this time, well away from the donut shop and the angry owner.

Mike was sitting in the passenger seat, going once more through the papers they had picked up that day. He took off his glasses and put them in his shirt pocket. "I wish there was a car on his house," he said almost wistfully.

"Yeah, I do too," Steve agreed, "but you heard Bob, they can't free anybody up till tomorrow. But at least we have someone in the bar with you tonight. That'll make things easier."

"Easier? It's gonna make our job a piece of cake. I can't believe they have a cop who's a bartender."

"And I can't believe how fast they got in touch with the owner and arranged for Doug the bartender to have a week off." He looked across the seat. "I'm impressed. They're pretty damn efficient."

Mike turned to him sharply. "We're pretty damn efficient too –"

"I didn't mean that!" Steve cut him off, knowing full well how protective his partner was of his city and his police department. "I just meant, they're a lot bigger than we are and they have more manpower to get things done… quickly… That's all…"

Grumbling, Mike looked back down at the papers in his hands. "Well, there's still a lot more we have to find out about this guy… Like when and how he got back into the country and where he's been for the last decade… And I want to hear from the IRS… I want to know how long Daniel Harrison has been paying taxes…" He sighed wearily. "We've got a long way to go, but after we get that glass tonight, and their lab confirms that he is, without a shadow of a doubt, Jeffrey Lonsdale, then we pick him up tomorrow morning as soon as we get a warrant. I want to be heading back home as soon as possible." His voice suddenly sounded far away.

Steve smiled to himself. "So do I, Mike, so do I…"

# # # # #

The older man looked at his watch again. "It's almost six. You sure you haven't seen him?"

Equally frustrated, Steve shook his head.

"Damn it." Mike slumped in the seat, frowning. "I wanted to wrap this up tonight." He sighed heavily.

"What are you both doing here?" came a voice from the sidewalk on their right and both heads spun to see Evans and Garabaldi bending over and looking at them through the passenger window.

"He didn't show," Mike said flatly, trying to keep a lid on his irritation.

Garabaldi straightened up and looked down the block toward Hiraro's.

"Seriously?" Evans sounded as disappointed as Mike looked. "Son of a bitch…"

Garabaldi turned back to the car. "Why don't you guys sit tight and Bob and I'll take a stroll down there and see if he's there or not… maybe he went in another way…?" He shrugged.

Mike bobbled his head. "I don't think there's another way in, but who knows. Sure, go ahead, let us know."

The LAPD detectives started casually down the street, both now in mufti and fitting right in with the throngs of tourists and locals that were crowding the street. It didn't take long for them to reach the bar and disappear inside.

# # # # #

Five minutes later, Garabaldi reappeared and started up the street towards them. He wasn't smiling. As he got close to the blue sedan, he began to shake his head. He stopped beside Mike's open window again. "He's definitely not in there. It's crowded as hell…" He shrugged apologetically. "Hey, it's Friday night… maybe Friday's are not his, ah, cup a tea, if you know what I mean."

Both SF detectives nodded. Mike ran a weary and frustrated hand across the back of his neck. "Yeah, you're probably right. Listen, ah, thanks, Phil, sorry we made you guys come all the way down here tonight for nothing…"

"It's not nothing, Mike," Garabaldi smiled. "Besides, Bob and I are gonna have dinner in there tonight, we managed to snag a free table. Wanna join us?"

"Thanks but, ah, I don't want to tempt fate. Steve'n I'll go somewhere else."

"Okay."

"Listen, ah, tell Bob I'll call you guys tomorrow morning and we'll put our heads together again… how does that sound?"

"Good, good… and, ah, sorry about tonight…" Garabaldi shrugged again.

Mike chuckled. "Don't worry about it… Enjoy your dinner."

With a nod, the LA cop headed back down the street. Mike looked across the front seat. "Listen you, why don't we check out that Filipino restaurant he recommended…" He snorted. "We might be lucky… he might be there tonight…"

Steve chuckled as he turned the key and the engine roared to life. "Wouldn't that be poetic irony…?"

Mike laughed. "I don't know how poetic it would be, but I like the irony…" His smile disappeared. "Your gun in the trunk?"

Steve nodded. "Unh-hunh."

Mike opened the glove box, reaching in to touch the leather of his own holster, reassuring himself that his .38 was there if he needed it. He hoped he didn't need it.

The sedan was heading up Pacific in the heavy traffic. Suddenly Mike sat up straight and pointed to a Mobil gas station on his right. "Pull in there," he barked.

Steve did a double take. "What? Why? We have a full tank."

"Just pull over."

Steve knew that tone; it was the tone he didn't challenge. He put the signal on and turned into the station.

Before the sedan came to full stop, Mike had picked up the papers from the seat beside him and opened the door; he almost sprinted to the small office. About a minute later, he came charging out and back to the car. He was smiling when he closed the door and turned to his partner excitedly. "Dinner can wait for a bit, okay? I want to drive by Lonsdale's house… " He glanced at the office. "I asked the guy in there how to get there and he highlighted a map for me." He snapped on the dome light and showed the map to Steve, pointing. "Here's where we are right now and here's Lonsdale's house…"

Expressionless, Steve took the map and studied it. Mike watched him silently but intently. Eventually the younger man looked up. "Let's do it."