Carlton returned to work frowning.
His lunch appointment was actually not with his divorce lawyer like he said. It was with Carla Pendas and the meeting left him with a headache.
He was reclining in a chair, sipping on his caramel mochacino with a splash of vanilla and a sprinkle of nutmeg since his was stolen earlier. He was wondering how he would recognize this woman, when a woman from a Hispanic background with dark wavy hair and glare sat down at his table.
"You must be the cop," she stated nastily.
"You must be the killer," he replied coolly, he already knew he was not going to like this woman.
"So what did my little Gypsy tell you?"
"Nothing, I had to threaten her to get a name," he replied. "So is there anything you want to tell me? If you confess, the courts will go easier on you."
"I don't know what you're talking about, is it that suicide? What time was it?" Carla questioned, glancing down at her manicure. She was not sure if the deep purple really fit her.
"I think you know damn well what time the murder was," he said, his eyes narrowing.
"Well, if it was during the time period between five and eight two days ago, I was flying in to the Santa Barbara Airport," she responded, a smirk growing on her face.
"What?" That was exactly during the time of death.
"Yes, check the airport security camera, you'll find me there," she replied and got up. "So cop, I hope this little chat was worth threatening Gypsy for."
Anger bubbled over in him, so he called out, "She picked me over you."
That did it. Carla whirled around and was back in the seat. "No, she did not pick you over me. She picked not being tortured over me, and who can blame her? You don't mean that much to her."
"Really? Because when it was between leaving me or giving up your name, she gave you up," Carlton retorted.
She laughed bitterly. "You have no clue what those bastards at the FBI did to her, do you?"
His stomach flipped. After Delilah had turned herself in the FBI she disappeared with them for four months without so much of a word. When she returned she refused to discuss what occurred, but Carlton did notice she flinched when he kissed her.
"Oh yeah, I'm sure you two have had deep talks about it. What is this your second time speaking in over two years? I bet she poured her heart out to you," he replied cynically.
Carla glared at him at the mention of how little her and Delilah chat. She pursed her lips together and snapped, "She can talk to me more then she can talk to you. You judgmental cop. She can tell me what happened at the FBI holding cell."
"All right then, tell me what happened. Tell me what she said when she opened her heart to you," he challenged.
"She has a scar on her left shoulder blade, did you ever notice that before the Feds kidnapped her?" Carla questioned, smirking at him.
His mouth became very dry as he slowly shook his head.
"Try asking her how many times they broke her shoulder to get her to talk," she suggested with a smirk.
He shook his head and stood up abruptly. "You're lying. You're lying about everything. You weren't at the airport, you were killing Stephen McLean, and I'm gonna prove it."
She laughed spitefully at him. His frustration was growing with each chuckle, so he opted to storm off. But he heard Carla call after him, "She might have chose you over me, but she trust me. She talks to me. She listens to me. And I'm gonna make sure she ends this little fling with you before it gets too serious."
He stopped, but did not turn around. "Too serious?"
Carla got up and circled him. "I know your type. You'll fall for her, if you haven't already. Your divorced was just finalized and I betcha the thought has crossed your mind, but just forget it. She could never love you. I'll convince her of that, it will be easy since I already convinced her that she means nothing to you. You're just in it for the sex. This relationship won't last, I'll see to that. Goodbye cop, and I would just save yourself the trouble and end this now."
"End what? The relationship or the investigation?" he questioned, glaring at her.
"Both," she answered and then walked away with only a flick of a hand to say goodbye.
Carlton kicked a chair before he stormed out.
"Lassiter, O'Hara, where are we on the McLean case?" Karen demanded later that afternoon, eyeing her detectives.
It was the moment Carlton was dreading, the moment he had to explain to his boss he knew who the killer was, but could not prove it. Though he would never admit it, he was very thankful for Shawn entering at that moment.
"Oh, oh Chief, I'm seeing darkness," Shawn moaned, flailing his arms. He began gagging and coughing. "It's so dusty in here."
Karen rolled her eyes. "Mr. Spencer, what is wrong with you?"
Gus answered for him. "We were examining the crime scene, when Shawn started feeling dizzy and light headed. He demanded that I take him here."
Shawn dropped to the ground and began military crawling across the floor, whispering, "I'm somewhere dark and dusty, and the floor, the floor feels like it's gonna give out from under my weight."
Shawn ended up by Juliet's desk and smiled up at her. She grinned back, lean down to him and asked quietly, "Why are you whispering?"
"The spirit I'm channeling seems to be doing some sort of spying and needs to be absolutely silent," Shawn answer, and then slithered over to the lose tile in the floor. He lifted it up and then started shaking and flopping on the floor.
"Should I kick him?" Carlton suggested staring at the spazzing psychic.
That snapped Shawn out of vision. He shook his head clear and glanced up at everyone. "I know how the killer did it."
He then seemed to pop up and explain, "The killer got into the ceiling, and crawled over to where McLean was and killed him."
"Got into the ceiling Mr. Spencer?" Karen repeated disbelievingly.
"Yes, the ceiling was made up of tiles, wasn't it? The killer climbed up into the ceiling and then crawled over to where the victim was. The killer lifted up the tile and then slipped into the bathroom and killed him," Shawn concluded with a wave of his arms.
Karen glanced between the psychic and her two of her best detectives. Juliet just shrugged and Carlton rolled his eyes. "I guess Mr. Spencer, that is a plausible theory of how the killer got into the bathroom with the victim, however we still don't know how McLean was killed. The autopsy report confirms that he died from an overdose of Capoten, which was the empty bottle of pills found with him. Are you suggesting that the killer forced him to take the pills?"
"No, no, no," he replied. "He never took those pills, in fact the spirits are telling me he was never even prescribed those pills. The bottle was planted on him to look like a suicide, he was actually injected the medicine."
"But there weren't any needle marks on the body, the coroner didn't make a note any of if there was," Juliet objected.
"The killer was a professional, they hid the needle mark," Shawn explained. "Probably in some place unexpected like between the toes or fingers. Or-"
"The back of the neck," Carlton mused quietly. Everyone turned to him, and he repeated louder, "The back of the neck. Right at the hairline, it would hide the mark and give the killer access to a main vein. A professional would know about, and I think I know which one, Carla Pendas."
"Good, go check out this Pendas character and see if she has an alibi for the time of the murder," Karen ordered and turned to go back to her office.
Juliet nodded eagerly and stood ready to go. Carlton stayed where he was and stated simply, "I did already."
Karen spun around and stared at the detective. "You did? When did you do this and why was I not informed?"
"I just did it in my lunch break, and it was a spur of the moment thing," Carlton explained.
"Spur of the moment? You aren't a 'spur of the moment' kind of guy Detective Lassiter," Karen said, her eyes narrowing in anger. She felt a twinge of betrayal for this. "Where did you get the name? I told you to investigate Eric Sanders."
"I have, he was no where near Santa Barbara during the murder, but I did some research and Pendas' name came up. I checked her out and I get the feeling that she committed the murder," Carlton justified his disobedience.
"All right, were you able to find any evidence against her?"
Carlton shook his head. Karen scoffed and yelled, "Well that's just great! Your feeling is about as substantial as Mr. Spencer's vision."
"It gets worse," Carlton muttered quietly.
"Oh it does, does it? What's worse besides no evidence?"
"She has a pretty convincing alibi," Carlton told her.
"What? She has an alibi?" Karen repeated.
He nodded and reached across his desk to grab a black rectangle. He handed it over to his superior and clarified, "This is a surveillance tape of the suspect getting off a plane twenty three minutes after the time of death."
"A video," Karen began, but was too flustered to express her thought. Finally, after a few failed attempts, she let out a huff and demanded, "Detective Lassiter, in my office now!"
Carlton nervously fixed his tie and followed the chief into her office. She let the door slam shut and quickly turn the blinds up so none of the wandering eyes from the squad room could peer in.
"I don't know what I'm more upset about, you going behind my back to follow a lead, or your lead being a dead end," Karen stated angrily, glaring at him from behind her desk.
"Chief, it was just a lead-" Carlton began.
"No, don't start with that crap," she snapped. "Tell me where you got that name."
"I was just looking through some case files and a few cases involving Carla Pendas stuck out by the way she kills her victim," Carlton explained.
"Do I look like I just feel off the turnip truck Lassiter? I don't believe a word of that bull," she retorted. "And even if you were looking through some files, did they happen to be FBI files? And I'm just wondering how you got a hold of them. A certain friend in the FBI?"
Carlton shifted uncomfortably and replied, "I can't remember what types of files, but they probably weren't FBI though."
Karen folded her arms and began tapping with her finger. "Listen Detective Lassiter, if I find out you're lying to me, so help you, you will be in so much pain there won't be enough medicine in the world to ease it."
He gulped and nodded his acknowledgement of her threat.
"Good," she muttered, and walked over to the door. She flung it open and was not surprised to see Gus, Shawn and Juliet all standing by the door, trying to over hear any little piece of gossip. "Detective O'Hara, as of now, pending of discovery of any new evidence, the McLean case is considered cold. Pack it up and get back to work. Mr. Spencer and Mr. Guster, leave in one minute or you won't live long enough to regret it. Everyone got it?"
They all mumbled their agreement, but none of them moved.
"Well get going!" she barked.
They all bustled at that. Gus practically had to drag Shawn out of the station, but they did leave and Juliet quickly started packing up the case files. Carlton made a move to go help her, but Karen stopped him.
She leaned in and whispered in his ear, "I may not know the whole story, but I know enough Carlton. If your information came from the little FBI slut that I think it came from and I find out there is anything other then a profession relationship going on, I will have no problem calling her superiors and having that sweet little deal of hers revoked, and bring you up for disciplinary action. Understand?"
Carlton took a moment to digest and then slowly nodded. He started to walk away when she said just loud enough for him to hear, "You have to ask yourself, is she really worth it?"