"Nice throw, Runner." The two men fist bumped, still acting as though the two detectives weren't even there.
"Wasn't it a totally Kurt McKinney, No Retreat, No Surrender move?"
"Dude, no way are you Kurt McKinney, that would make me J.W. Fails!"
"Don't be the one to bring a knife to a gun fight, J.W. Fails was awesome! Remember that breakdancing scene?"
"Seriously? That had to be the worst movie of the eighties!"
"Fine, then I am totally Rambo!"
"Runner, do you seriously think I could pull off a little Asian old man addicted to soap operas?"
"You are addicted to soap operas, remember, you cried when Inaki died on An Numbers Day More!"
"It's En Nombre del Amor, Runner, and I wasn't the one who cried! I don't even know enough Spanish to watch telenovelas!"
"Do too!"
"Do not!"
"Do too!"
"Do not!"
"Do not!"
"Do too... Wait, that is so not fair!"
Shawn grinned and stuck his tongue out at Gus. Juliet swore she could see the glint of a tongue piercing.
Without warning, the two men jumped at each other. Gus throwing a right hook that Shawn easily dodged and followed with a high kick Juliet recognized from The Karate Kid. Gus grunted as it hit him in the ribs and stumbled back a step. Lassiter rushed forward to seperate the two before he noticed that both men were laughing as they exchanged blows.
"Shawn!" Juliet called out.
Taking advantage of Shawn's distraction, Gus managed to land a glancing blow on Shawn's temple. Shawn acted as though he didn't even feel it.
"Whoa, Runner, you okay?" Gus asked, clearly surprised he'd managed to hit his friend.
"Of course, Jackal," Shawn waved Gus off. "I've been stabbed, shot, strangled, beaten half to death with a metal pipe... I'm fine. Besides, you hit like a girl."
The prisoner Shawn had been sparring with earlier walked back over, a fresh bruise covering the whole left side of his face. He listened to the two men with a wry expression on his face. "Runner only says that cause he's the only one in this whole damn place who can get away with it." He said to no one in particular. "Runner's the only one Jackal can fight anymore without pulling his punches. Runner's to much like a ghost. One second his fist is breaking your nose and the next he's on the other side of the room, grinning like an idiot and requesting you call him by Doctor, 'cause why the hell else would he take the time to get a degree but for the title? It's where the guy's name comes from. Originally he was called Runner 'cause he spent all his time studying or at the bags with Jackal and didn't say nothing to no one. We all thought he didn't have the balls to do nothin'. We called him Runner 'cause he stayed out of trouble till the incident a little over five years back. After that he's been Runner cause when you see him coming, you sure as hell better pick up your feet and start running." the man suddenly turned to face the two detectives, who realized how silent it had become while everyone listened to his words. "If you're smart, you should get the hell outta dodge and come up with whatever you need without Runner's help. He's unreliable and a bad man to bet on. Watch yourself around here, 'cause everyone either loves that man or hates him. It's better to choose your fights and stay away from prison politics. 'Cause politics round here are murder." With that, the man strolled away, followed closely by his heavily armed guard, who nudged the man with the front of his weapon.
"Well," Shawn's voice from behind her made Juliet jump. "About those questions..."
In an Interrogation Room
Shawn was seated at a table, both feet propped up in front of him on the table's metal surface. The flourescent lighting threw the scars and tattoos that marred his once familiar features into relief. The shadows filled the hollows of his eyes. From behind the onw way glass, Lassiter tried to stop the shiver as the pits of darkness followed his movement as though Spencer- Runner, he corrected himself- could see him. The rest of the man was unnaturally still, in a way that surprised and bothered Lassiter. With a deep breath to calm himself, he marched out of the observation room, slamming the door, and stormed into interrogation.
"Lassie." The man didn't turn to see him enter, just spoke his name with such a knowing air that Lassiter found himself gritting his teeth.
"What do you know about Roger Morris?"
"Puppet? Probable suicide vic? Five feet, eight inches. One hundred and seventy pounds. A twenty-five to lifer. Wanted out on parole. Had a bit of a thing for men. No gang activity. Here after murdering his wife in '98. He caught her with the mailman, figures." Shawn laughed with no real amusement in his eyes. "He wasn't really mad at the wife though, but the mailman. Apparently they'd had a bit of a thing... Stabbed the guy seven times. Puppet didn't belong here. He couldn't deal with it, wanted out. Shoulda gotten parole soon. Good thing, too. I couldn't stand him. He had terrible hair..."
"You realize you just gave us motive for a murder you seem to know too much about?"
"Oh! so now you admit it's a murder!" Shawn grinned ferally and Lassiter had the sudden feeling that he wasn't the one running this interrogation- scratch that, 'interview'. "I have an alibi, and none of my men would have touched him. I don't allow them to off people. Too many ramifications."
"Tell me who really did it and I might believe you."
"It was Colonel Mustard. In the Library. With a candlestick." A smile played at the corners of the man's mouth but his eyes remained cold, distant.
"Shut up and tell us the truth!"
"You can't handle the truth!" The man laughed, a short, harsh bark of laughter that echoed behind the cold walls that hemmed them in. "I've always wanted to say that. Quick question: Which do you want me to do, shut up or tell you the truth? Anyways, it's gotta be Colonel Mustard cause this is a man's prison if you haven't noticed, so unless Ms. Scarlett is hiding something behind that hideous feather boa she's wrapped in..."
"You know what? I think I'll just have this ruled a suicide so I won't have to put up with you..."
Shawn laughed, his eyes widening. "I overestimated you! I gave you all the clues! A warning, several possible motives, and still you think it's a suicide! Tell me then, Lassie-face, if I told you he was getting out on parole soon, then why would he kill himself?"
Lassiter stared, suddenly aware that Shawn had already given him enough reason for the death to be suspicious and he hadn't even noticed.
He reached for his notepad and pencil to take notes, frowning when he couldn't find it in eithor of his suit pockets. Realizing he'd have to do without, he continued. "Just tell me what you know, Spencer."
Shawn smiled, victorious. He rattled his cuffs. "These come off first and I get to see the scene. Gus's records of ever being here will be expunged when he gets out on parole, which I expect to happen sooner rather than later."
Lassiter stared in astonishment at Shawn, who just smiled, reached inside his jumpsuit and pulled out a legal pad and a pencil. Lassiter's legal pad and pencil.
Shawn slid it over to him.
"There's a list of those things I'll receive in return for my full cooperation. At the bottom is Chief Vick's current cell phone number. You'll need this..." Shawn's grin grew wider as, hands still cuffed together, he tosed Lassiter his cell phone. Lassiter gaped.
"Oh, and Lassie, while you're at it, will you please be a dear and add a pineapple smoothie to my list of demands?And possibly some jerk chicken? Jackal will kill me if I had a chance to get some and didn't, and then all of our co-operationishness will go down the drain..."
Runner held the cellphone to his ear with one hand, careful to tilt his body so that the phone was angled away from the security cameras.
"Is everything arranged?"
He nodded then, pleased with the reply. A dark sort of anticipation evident in the tight set of his jaw and the strong posture of his shoulders.
"Good, I've been delaying the coppers here with their murder investigation. The plan's going well. In a few days, we can head out and I'll have the situation diffused here. Well, both the situations." His brows pulled down thoughtfully as he frowned grimly.
"No, I'm not too attached! I haven't seen them in over six years. I'll be fine. See you all soon."
Shawn snapped the phone closed with a sense of finality, a sigh weighing heavily on his lips and his shoulders pulled tense. Living the way he did was difficult already. The reappearance of a could-have-been-fiance and an overly-curious/violent-Head-Detective-Almost-Chief was not helping matters.