A/N: Once again, thanks to my beta, RebeccaInley, and to Lynn46.
Poll still open on my profile page, folks!
Private Practice
Mickey's Diner
102 Centre St
10 am Tuesday May 8th 2007
Regan reached for another packet of sugar from the bowl on the table and then put it back. She'd already reduced three to shreds of paper and piles of white crystal as she waited.
Briscoe said ten, right? She checked the note she'd written on a post-it to be sure. Yeah, ten.
The veteran homicide detective had been sympathetic when Regan had called him late yesterday as she waited for McCoy to finish unpacking the boxes of law books he'd brought to Abbie's house. Just remembering the comfort she'd felt at the sound of his voice, warm and reassuring, made Regan's eyes prickle with threatening tears. She wished futilely that he could work the case for her.
But there was no way he could. He hadn't offered, and Regan hadn't asked. Instead, he'd told her there was a former homicide detective, working private now for family reasons, who she could trust and rely on.
Regan looked again at the post-it note. Rey Curtis.
Briscoe had even called Curtis for her, to make sure the man would take the case, no matter how much other work he might have.
So here she was, sitting in a booth in Mickey's Diner across the road from the courthouse, in the corner at the back where she and this private detective would have some privacy, waiting for Briscoe's retired partner.
The door opened and she looked up expectantly, then felt her shoulders slump as a tall man came into the diner, too young to be the retired cop she was waiting for. She checked the note again. Definitely ten. She looked at her watch. One minute past. Okay, so not really late. It felt like he was late to Regan.
"Ms Markham?" a voice asked, smooth as a café latte sweetened with honey.
Regan looked up to see the man she'd watched come into the diner looking down at her. Up close, he wasn't quite as young as she'd thought. But even better looking. The strength of his jaw was just enough counterpoint to his liquid eyes and full mouth. Regan might have guessed he was a model, but she could see the edge of a shoulder holster beneath the lapel of his jacket. "That's me," she said.
He held out his hand. "I'm Rey Curtis. Lennie Briscoe told me to meet you here."
"Oh!" Regan shook his hand, and gestured to the seat opposite her. "I'm sorry, I was expecting – "
"Someone older?" Curtis guessed, smiling. He sat down. "I took early retirement."
"Very early," Regan said, returning his smile.
"My wife needed more of my time," Curtis explained. He put extra stress on the word wife and Regan realized he was letting her know right up front that he was a devoted husband. Does he think I'm going to jump him right here in the diner? she wondered, a little amused. Then she took another look at him and thought that maybe Rey Curtis did have legitimate reasons to put immediate roadblocks in the path of female attention.
"Lennie said you were good," Regan said.
"That's high praise," Curtis said. "I'll try to live up to his recommendation."
"Did he tell you why I was looking to hire you?" Regan asked, taking a contract form and a pen out of her briefcase.
"Criminal defense," Curtis said. "I have to tell you, Ms Markham, I don't really do that kind of work."
"What do you do?" Regan asked.
"Missing persons, mostly," Curtis said. He shrugged. "There's not a lot of – moral ambiguity – in missing persons. Someone's missing, you do your best to find them. I do some divorce work, too, from time to time. Mostly tracking assets."
"Not sitting in cars outside motels?" Regan asked.
"I did enough of that as a cop," Curtis said.
Regan caught the way his gaze slid away from hers as he said it and guessed there was more to it than that, but she didn't push it. "You don't have to worry about moral ambiguity here, Mr. Curtis. I have an innocent client who has been framed." She pushed the contract across the table to him and held out the pen. "Sign, please."
"I haven't decided to take your case," Curtis objected.
"And the contract doesn't oblige you to. But it does mean that if you're subpoenaed by the prosecution you won't be able to answer any questions about this conversation."
Curtis hesitated, and took the pen. "Framed, huh?" He signed his name in small, neat writing. "By the police? Because I have to tell you – "
"By the complaining witness," Regan said. "My client is Jack McCoy, Mr. Curtis. I believe you know him."
He pushed the contract back toward her, pen laid on top of it, before answering. "I've read something in the papers about Jack being in some kind of trouble."
Regan gave him a succinct outline of the case so far, the allegations, her speculations about the GHB, and their impossible deadline.
"With all due respect, Ms Markham, that all sounds kind of far-fetched," Curtis said when she'd finished.
"I know," Regan said. "That's why I need to prove it. Or at least some of it. By Thursday. By Friday, at the latest."
"Tall order," Curtis said. He was not looking at her as he spoke, and Regan felt her heart sink.
"Something on your mind, detective?" she asked bluntly.
He did look at her then. "It's Mr. Curtis now."
"Something on your mind, Mr. Curtis?"
"Yes," he said. "This whole story – it doesn't make sense. It sounds like the kind of thing defense lawyers come up with when they don't have anything else. You make it sound like this woman planned the whole thing. Did she just happen to have a Mickey Finn in her handbag? And if McCoy didn't hit her, who did? And why would she have this kind of a grudge against him, to go so far to set him up?"
"I don't have the answer to any of those questions," Regan said. "That's why I need to hire you." She leaned forward. "Look. I agree, there are a lot of unanswered questions, and a lot of things that don't make sense. But you know Jack McCoy. Do you think he did this?"
"I knew McCoy nearly ten years ago," Curtis said. "I know he was raised a Catholic, but didn't live the kind of life the church approves of. I know he used to drink more than maybe he should have. I know he had a temper." He studied her. "And from the look on your face, I can guess that none of that has changed. But how do I know what has?"
"I can tell you, Jack hasn't changed into the kind of man who beats on women," Regan said.
"You're absolutely sure?" Curtis said.
"Absolutely," Regan said.
He gave a little laugh. "I never could figure out how a man like him could get so many women twisted around his little finger."
"I'm not twisted around his little finger," Regan said tartly. "I work with him, that's all."
"Yeah, that's what Claire used to say, too," Curtis said. "Until they couldn't hide it any more."
"I'm not Claire Kincaid," Regan said, rubbing her forehead. Obviously. Curiosity tugged at her, and she hesitated, and then asked: "You knew her well?"
"She was a nice lady. I didn't always agree with her politics, but I liked her. Everybody liked her." He shrugged. "I was in Homicide, she was an ADA. I wouldn't say I knew her well."
"Would you say you knew Jack well?" Regan said.
Curtis paused. "No," he said.
"Well, I do." Regan held his gaze. "And I know he didn't do this. So will you help me out here?"
Curtis nodded slowly. "Okay," he said.
"I need answers to all those questions you raised. I need to know where she got the drugs, who her dealer is. I need to know why she picked Jack, I need to know how she faked the attack. And I need proof that he's innocent."
"I'll work up a background on her for you," Curtis said. "Talk to her friends, her neighbors. It's not going to be easy to find her dealer, though."
"Do your best," Regan said.
"Does Jack have security cameras in his building?"
"I don't know. He has a doorman," Regan said.
"I'll find out. There might be footage of Dyson leaving, or maybe a witness. If she was uninjured … "
"That'd be good," Regan said.
"If I find something that doesn't support your theory," Curtis said, "Ms Markham, the prosecution can't force me to violate privilege – but if you put me on the stand, I'm not going to perjure myself. I wouldn't do it for Jack McCoy when I was a cop, and I won't do it now."
"I won't ask you to," Regan promised.
"Alright," Curtis said. "I'll call you first thing tomorrow with an update and we'll take it from there."
"I appreciate this, detect – Mr. Curtis," Regan said, standing as he did. "Thank you."
"Thank Lennie Briscoe," Curtis said. "He told me I should help you. That you were stand-up."
Regan felt herself blush a little. "I'll try to deserve that," she said, pleased.
Curtis showed her his dazzling smile again. "Living up to Lennie's expectations isn't a bad guide for life."
.oOo.
A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, especially to those of you who took time to point out particular points or issues.
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