Thank you for the kind words on the last chapter. And kudos to the person who got the-um-Arnold-connection! Canon demands ripped from the headlines, after all, with that Law and Order twist. It has been suggested that Bobby and Alex should have gotten horizontal on that first date. Believe me, it was tempting. But Bobby is in therapy for a reason, and I came at this from that angle. They're going to indulge in some adult fun (which is why there's an M rating :) and we'll have a bit with the shrink. In addition, the Richman family is about to get a big push towards justice. I own nothing, just borrowing them.
"Hmm, what to do first?" Alex scrolled through her email, hoping for just one tiny break on the Richman case.
Bobby was assigned the task of following up with the tip line. Not as many crazies as last week, for which he was thankful. He'd slept little after their date, wondering if they should have just...but he was the one who wanted to take things slow. Wasn't he? He tried to refocus on the tips that had come in, while watching his partner sitting across from him.
Alex took a sip of coffee and a bite of her danish, catching a drip of frosting with a fingertip and licking it off.
Lord help me, even the littlest thing she does is sexy, he groaned silently. Maybe he should go to the war room, get her out of his line of sight for a bit.
As if reading his mind, she looked up at him and grinned.
"Cute," he muttered.
"Might have fewer distractions in the conference room," she gave voice to his thoughts.
"Dunno how I'm going to get through this day," he muttered as they walked to the war room.
"Trouble sleeping?" she asked. Innocuous words but loaded with subtext.
"Too much espresso late at night," Bobby replied.
"Hmm, switch to decaf," Alex suggested as they cleared the doorway. They took seats across from each other. "Or maybe we could come up with a better cure for your insomnia."
"Ea-eames!" his voice rose a few pitches.
"What? I was just, you know, thinking out loud," she mused.
"Not on the first date," he shook his head.
"Oh, come on, don't tell me you've never ended up in bed with someone on a first date," she scoffed.
He looked sheepish.
"Thought so," she grinned. "So why not me?"
"Not sure I want to have this conversation here," he demurred, looking furtively at the door.
"Then over lunch and then dinner tonight?" her voice was silky.
"Asking me on a date?" he smiled.
"Two, because it is my birthday," she said.
"Yes, it is," he reached over and fingered her bracelet. "Two in one day?"
"Goren, haven't you heard of the three date rule?" Alex laughed.
"Ye-Yeah," he stammered. "But..."
"But what? It's not like we just met. I wouldn't think less of you..." she said quietly.
"Don't laugh," he warned.
"Cross my heart and hope to die," she bit back a grin.
"What I feel for you is...way beyond sex. I want to-to court you, okay?" he finally got the words out.
She formed the words silently, court me? "Are you for real?" she asked aloud.
Before they could take the conversation further, Hannah stuck his head in the conference room door, "Anyone looking for a Greek housekeeper and her kid?"
They bolted from their seats, "You'd better not be fucking with us, Joe," Bobby warned.
"No, not kidding, they just cleared customs," their boss informed them. "INS is bringing them in about an hour."
"Happy birthday to me," Alex snarked.
"Guess lunch will have to wait," Bobby said ruefully.
"Who cares, if we can nail these bastards," she said vehemently.
They spent the hour reviewing the salient information from the crime scene, witness statements and video. Since the information from Mr Markham was technically hearsay, the DA had declined to issue search warrants for Ms Danton's and Mr Dimitri's residence. Right now, the interviews were considered witness statements. Alex and Bobby had hammered out the details of how the interrogations were to proceed last week, so it was just a matter of putting them into play. Two ADA's were en route to observe.
The plan was to bring mother and son to a conference room, rather than interrogation. The two detectives would interview mother and son together, tossing softballs at first. Next, they would amp it up a bit, asking for DNA samples, fingerprints, presenting it as a voluntary measure, just to exclude them from the crime scene. Their cooperation or lack thereof, might get them information that would be grounds for a warrant.
"Ready?" Bobby asked as the suspects cleared the elevator, accompanied by INS.
"Let's play," Alex answered.
Galatea Dimitri, aka Theresa Danton, came into the room, and shook hands with both detectives. At 52, she was a shadow of the striking beauty she was twenty years before. Her long curly black hair was shot with gray, and she looked to be carrying about forty extra pounds. Her dark eyes were fiery, her carriage imperious. Her son, Samuel, was a younger version of Gala. He seemed shy, with impeccable manners. His mother was less guarded, more voluble.
"We can't tell you how horrible it was to come home to such a terrible tragedy," the housekeeper began. She wiped at her eyes with a tissue, but the detectives failed to see any actual tears.
"I can't imagine," Alex was sympathetic. "You've been on vacation?"
"In Greece, visiting my parents," Ms Dimitri nodded. "They live in a small village, and they're getting on in years." She patted her son's hand, "Sam wanted to see his grandparents before..."
Bobby finished her sentence, "Before they passed away. I understand that, both my parents and brother are gone. Hard to lose that link with your past, especially with them living so far away."
She tossed her curly hair, "And trips back home are so expensive. We saved for a long time to afford it."
"Ma wanted me to celebrate my birthday in the mother country," Sam offered, a slight smirk on his face.
"That's nice," Alex smiled back, her teeth gritted. "Birthdays at your age are special. When you get to be my age," she rolled her eyes, "it's really just another day."
"She's only saying that because she's working on her birthday," Bobby said conspiratorially.
"Today?" Gala asked, with forced gaiety. "Happy birthday!"
The detective made a wry face, "Thanks." She turned to Sam, inquiring, "So, how many candles on your cake?"
Sam blushed at her friendly tone, "Um, twenty."
"Well, I guess we'd better quit socializing and get back to the case at hand," Bobby pretended reluctance. "How long have you worked for the Richman family?"
"Uh, about three years?" Galatea looked at her son.
"I was finishing my junior year in high school," Sam nodded.
"How did you come to work for them?" Bobby asked, scribbling on a yellow legal pad.
"I-uh, had worked for another family in the building, the Benedicts. The family was relocating to California, and I was in need of a job. The Richmans' son Tate went to nursery school with the Benedicts' daughter, Paige," Ms Dimitri explained. "Mr and Mrs Richman were new to the building, and she was pregnant. The Benedicts gave me a good reference."
Alex and Bobby exchanged a glance. Just enough truth to make it seem plausible. "So, Sam, you work for the Richmans, too?" she asked.
"Um, no, ma'am, not for the family, just do building maintenance, part time," he replied.
"Sam is a student at NYIT," Gala said proudly. "He has a full scholarship, just works for spending money."
"Wow, that's great," Alex enthused."What's your major?"
"Computer science," he admitted.
"So working for building maintenance involves...?" she asked.
"Oh, just fixing stuff, keeping the public areas spiffed up, plumbing, some basic wiring," Sam said, trying to appear casual.
"I'll bet you can help when the rich people crash their computers, son," Bobby chuckled.
"Once in a while," Sam nodded.
"Ms Danton, did you enjoy working for the Richmans?" Alex asked.
"They paid well, and the hours were acceptable," the housekeeper was non committal.
"Hmm," Bobby mused. "What were they like as people?"
Mother and son exchanged a look.
"Reason we ask," Alex explained. "Everyone we've talked to say they were this perfect family. No one wants to speak ill of the dead."
"They were nice people," Galatea said guardedly. "Mrs Richman...was pretty involved with her children, her charity works. Mr Richman-he worked a lot, but when he was home, he was kind, to me, and to my son."
"Any arguments, did he and his wife get along?" Bobby inquired.
"I've always considered it in poor taste to gossip about my employers," she said stiffly.
"Your employers," Goren echoed. "So it wasn't all sweetness and light?"
"They lived a different life than us, okay?" Sam answered for his mother. His tone was bitter. "Privileged."
"They got on fine," Gala cut a glance at her son. "And treated us well."
"Well, we just need a couple things from you both," Alex said, pretending to be slightly distracted. "There are some unidentified fingerprints in the Richmans' apartment, and DNA. You know how it is with these families, they have help in for everything," she rolled her eyes. "We've asked everyone that lives or works in the building for a sample, just for elimination purposes."
Mother and son exchanged a look, "That's fine," Ms Dimitri said after a pause. "Whatever we can do to help."
"This won't take but a minute," Alex assured them. "If you would read and sign these consents that you are submitting voluntarily, then we can get you taken care of." After a careful read, Gala and Sam signed the documents. The detectives took them downstairs to be fingerprinted, and then swabbed for DNA.
Meanwhile, Immigration had the 411 on their passports. They were scheduled to leave LaGuardia on the day of the murders, at 1:40 PM on a two-legged flight to Athens. According to the airline, the flight left about an hour late, at 2:32 PM. The Dimitris had re entered the country this morning at 9:20.
Mike Cutter and Claire Kincaid McCoy were the riding ADA's on the case, and they, along with Chief Moran, Captain Hannah, and one of the agents from INS had gathered in the war room.
"Shit, that doesn't give them a whole lot of time to commit the murders, get to the airport and clearance on an international flight, especially on a Sunday." Cutter scanned the documents.
"But with a little luck and a lot of planning, they could have done it," Claire argued. "Why was there a delay?"
The immigration agent, Andrew Pauling, had that answer, "Computer glitch. Something about the electronic boarding passes."
"That little bastard is a computer science major," Mike groaned.
Once they were done with the fingerprinting, Bobby waved Ms Dimitri aside, "Just a couple things came up when we were looking at your background information. Would you mind answering a couple more questions?"
He caught her glance towards where her son was wiping his fingers. "I know there are some things you might not want your son to hear," Bobby lowered his voice apologetically. When he saw her hesitate, he assured her, "Detective Eames will look out for him, I promise."
She nodded and spoke to her son, "Sam, I need to answer a couple more questions."
The young man blanched, "But..."
Alex patted his arm, "C'mon, we'll get a soda," she coaxed.
By tacit agreement, Bobby took Gala into one interrogation room, while Alex took Sam into another. Chief Moran and ADA Mike Cutter were observing Goren's interview, Captain Hannah and ADA Claire Kincaid McCoy were watching Eames' interrogation.
Bobby began by informing Ms Danton/Dimitri of her rights, "I really hate to do this, but the suits want all the technical sh- stuff covered," he said regretfully, turning on the full Goren charm. "Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?" he finished.
"Yes," she hissed, her demeanor stone cold, as she signed the Miranda.
"Are you answering these questions freely, Ms Danton?" He was solicitous.
She narrowed her eyes, trying to get a read on him. Deciding he was just another bumbling civil servant, she softened a bit. "I'd be happy to answer your questions."
"Good," he nodded. "Uh, when was the last time your were in the Richman residence?"
"Friday, two days before we left on holiday," she answered promptly.
"Anything unusual happen that day, calls, visitors...family drama?" Bobby asked.
She paused, as if trying to remember, "Mrs Richman had a doctor's appointment that morning, and their sitter canceled. Mr Richman wanted to go with her, so I offered to watch the children."
"That was nice of you," he observed. "Did you do that often, help out with the children?"
"No, not often," she denied.
"All that money, and they didn't have a nanny?" he was incredulous.
"Mrs Richman preferred to be a hands-on parent," she was curiously devoid of expression.
"Guess that's all on that. Um...we found a- an anomaly in your paperwork," he rifled through his binder. "Ah, here it is. Your current passport and drivers license says your name is Theresa Danton, but your naturalization papers list you as...Galatea Dimitri," he mused.
"I became a citizen in 1989, under my maiden name. Galatea Theresa Dimitri. I took my husband's last name when I married in 1991," she shrugged.
"And you took your middle name as your first name." Goren queried. "Why was that?"
"I-um, had some issues with my credit," she said smoothly. "Is that relevant?"
"We just need background on any potential witnesses, for any future trials," he explained.
"Trial?" she was nervous. "Do you have any suspects?"
Bobby shrugged, "You were explaining your name change."
"It takes a lot of time and money to change your name on my citizenship papers. By the time I got around to it, I was divorced." she rolled her eyes.
Bobby played the sympathetic police officer to the hilt, "I'm sorry. Is Sam's dad involved in his life?"
Her voice was cold, "He's dead."
He feigned shock, "What a shame! Were you married long?"
"A couple years," Gala's expression closed in. "Which I'm sure you already know."
"As a matter of fact, I do," Bobby tossed a document on the table with a flourish. "Decree of divorce, September 1993. Date of marriage, August 2, 1991. No community property to divide. And no children born of the marriage." He pulled another piece of paper. "This-is an affidavit from one Richard Danton, stating the minor child known as Samuel Nicholas Dimitri is not his biological child. You signed this as well, thus freeing him of any claim to the boy." His warm attitude vanished. "Samuel Nicholas Dimitri, your bastard son with a poor broke college kid named Samuel Richman." He flung out the third document, "Your son's birth certificate. The space indicating 'father?'" he spat. "Unknown."
"Samuel was a popular name at the time," she tried to blow it off.
"Right," he said sarcastically. "You knew that you just had to bide your time. Years. You were patient. The kid who just wanted to fuck a hot older woman was now rich, with a pretty little family. How'd you come at him? Poor immigrant woman, single mother, struggled all her life. Sam Richman was a soft touch. That much you remembered," his tone was contemptuous.
"You..." her temper exploded, and for a moment Bobby saw what the Richmans must have seen that morning.
In observation, Cutter was astounded at the flip, "Jesus Christ."
"Son of a bitch hasn't forgotten how to interrogate," Moran admitted reluctantly.
"She's gonna lawyer up in about two seconds," Mike muttered, reaching for his cell.
True to form, Gala did just that, "I want a lawyer, and I want to see my son!"
Goren threw up his hands, "You're entitled to legal representation, not to see your son." He slapped his binder shut, and stalked from the room.
Alex had decided to play to Sam Dimitri's 'crushing on an older woman.' She bought him a soda of his choice, as well as some chips before they headed into interrogation.
"Wow, you must be a little nervous about all this," Alex opened as they sat down.
"What do you mean?" he was wary.
"Well, here you were, coming back from this great vacation with your mom, only to find out this family you worked for is dead." She took a big gulp of her water, and chewed on a few skittles. "And then to have immigration cops pick you up, haul you down to be fingerprinted and asked a bunch of questions...When I was twenty, I'd have been scared shitless."
"I don't have anything to be scared of," he countered, shrugging his shoulders.
"That's a relief," she smiled. "Don't want to stress you out."
"The only things that stress me out are advanced calculus and the bullshit you have to go through with the TSA," he cracked a grin. "At least getting hauled downtown got us to the head of the line today. Thanks."
Alex strove to keep her expression neutral, while revulsion bubbled inside, "Guess that's one way to look at it." She rifled through the folder in front of her, "Oh, shoot. I forgot I need to read this to you and have you sign it." She cast a flirtatious glance at him. "Must be the age thing."
"You don't look that old," Sam was staring at her cleavage, not paying particular attention to her words. "What are you, thirty-five?"
She laughed, "Oh, you are a sweetheart. Your parents raised you well."
Sam leaned forward, "My mom raised me," he said earnestly.
"Your dad around?" she wondered.
"You mean the sperm donor?" Sam said sarcastically. "Naw, he's dead."
"I'm sorry," she said quietly, "That must be hard."
He shrugged, "Don't miss what you never had. Anyway, my mom is the best. She's worked hard all her life, so I can have opportunities she didn't."
"You're an only child?" she inquired.
"Yes," he nodded.
"Bet the girls flocking around you makes your mom crazy," Alex speculated with a grin.
"Aw, I'm too busy for girlfriends," he blushed a little.
"Too bad, 'cause I think they'd love a sweet guy like you," she purred. "Um, back to this," Alex indicated the Miranda form. "Before we visit any more, I have to go over your rights."
Sam looked stricken, "Wha-what?"
"Oh, it's just for your protection," she said carelessly. The detective read the information aloud and offered him a pen. "Any questions?"
"Um, no, I-uh, don't think so," he paused.
"You know, Sam, if you want a minute to think or call a lawyer, I'd understand," she said.
"C-Can I talk to my mom?" he asked.
"Um, no, since you're an adult, unless she's a lawyer..." Alex replied regretfully.
"I don't have anything to hide," he signed the form with a flourish.
"Good," she nodded. "I have to ask about something you said earlier. You said you worked for building maintenance, not the Richmans specifically. Have you ever been in the Richmans' apartment?"
"Well, yeah," he looked at her as if she wasn't too bright. "My mom works-worked for them, so I'd come pick her up, or do repairs and shit that my job required."
"Okay," Alex appeared to be looking at a checklist. "Do you remember the last time you were there?" She felt rather than saw him jump.
"Uh, Friday, I guess. The day before we left on our trip," he said carefully.
"Friday the 17th?" she clarified.
"Yeah," Sam assented.
"You left for Greece on Saturday?" she inquired.
"Uh huh," he seemed bored.
"So you could 'celebrate turning twenty in your motherland'," she suddenly became very specific.
"That's right," he grimaced.
She whipped out a document and slapped it on the table, "According to this, your birthday is Sunday, June 19th. You didn't arrive in Athens until Monday, June 20th. Neat trick, having your birthday on two different days."
"Is that a question?" he asked belligerently.
"Just a fact," she threw down the copies of his passport stamp and boarding pass.
"I want a lawyer, you bitch!" he yelled.
"With pleasure," Alex picked up the paperwork and exited the room, slamming the door behind her.
Bobby walked into the observation room, looking askance at the ADA and the chief of D's. "Well?"
Cutter snapped his cell closed, "Waiting on warrants," he commented.
"What about the kid?" Bobby asked, as Claire walked into the room.
"He stepped in it with his alibi. Lying is circumstantial, but enough to hold him," she said.
Captain Hannah, Chief Moran, the ADAs and the two lead detectives watched as the Dimitris were led to holding.
Alex let out a breath, "Thank God."
"Don't celebrate yet," Cutter warned. "Now the real work begins."
"At least their wings are clipped," Hannah said sardonically.
"We'll arraign them in the morning," Claire said.
"Think the judge will grant them bail?" Bobby wondered.
"High profile case, public outrage," Cutter said. "Hope to hell not."
Claire stopped by Alex's desk before she left. "Hey, don't we have something to celebrate this week?" she joked.
Alex made a wry face, "Right."
"Girls night out, Alex," the prosecutor laughed. "you name the day and the place, I'll get the gang together."
She looked over at Bobby's empty chair, "Uh, what about Thursday?"
Claire gave her a puzzled look, "Yeah, that's fine. Alex?"
"Um hmm?" she was fussing with her new bracelet.
Claire pulled up a chair, "Okay, spill it. What's up?"
"What? It's nothing, just this case," she waved a hand. "And um, I was out pretty late last night."
"As in 'out on a date' late?" Claire squealed.
"Shh!" Alex cast a furtive glance about the vicinity.
"So, why the secrecy?" her friend prodded.
Alex sighed, "Can't talk about it here."
Bobby returned to his desk, "Counselor," he acknowledged her with a smile.
Claire's glance went from the bracelet to the rose on her desk, and then her friend blushing. Oh. Oh. "Oh!" she got it.
"Amarok, six thirty Thursday, okay?" Alex decided. "I'll round up the usual suspects."
"See you then," Claire hoisted her briefcase up and leaded for the elevators.
"Girls night out," Alex told her partner, by way of explanation.
"Yeah," he grinned.
"Enjoying yourself?" she snarked.
"Immensely," he chuckled, rolling his chair next to hers. "Like seeing you blush."
"Is this part of the courtship thing?" she teased.
Their voices were low; for all anyone in the bullpen could tell, they were discussing the latest wrinkle in their caseload. "Could be," he replied.
Their little huddle was interrupted by their captain, "Goren, Eames, warrants are up!"
"No rest for the wicked," Alex commented as they headed for the SUV.
Bobby groaned, "Sometimes I hate us being the A team."
"Nice to be loved," she snarked, firing up the engine.
"Right," he agreed, then smiled. "Guess we won't get to the third date thing today, will we?"
"Not even a second date," she sighed. "More like takeout Chinese in the bullpen."
They badged the uniforms at the scene, and walked up three flights to the apartment in question. Mike Cutter was there representing the DA's office, while the Dimitris' public defenders, were there for their clients. Techs were collecting evidence, testing for potential blood evidence in the sinks, bath, drain traps.
"Nice place," Alex commented, looking around the bright apartment.
"She made it a home for the kid," Bobby agreed.
"Not enough for her, though," Alex was logged on the PC in Galatea's bedroom "She is meticulous in tracking every dime that went in and out." she touched the scanning electronic organizer next to the computer. "Hmm, banking records, tax returns..." she pointed to a deduction on last year's return. "Safe deposit box rental, Bobby."
"Good place to hide something from your computer geek kid," he agreed, getting up to search for a key.
TARU was there to seize the unit, "The kid had the laptop on him when they brought him in, we're combing that right now."
The team searched the apartment thoroughly. No bloody clothes, or evidence of a murder weapon. The keys on the Dmitri family key chains were all accounted for: the apartment, a storage closet in the basement, the family car, a 2001 Mazda Protege. The safe deposit box key was found secreted beneath Gala's nightstand.
"It's what we're not seeing that's important," Bobby fingered the two key-chains. "They should have keys to the Richmans' apartment, to the building...if the kid was on the maintenance staff, those guys usually have their own set."
"Maybe they left them in the car?" Alex pondered, glancing out the window, "It's being impounded as we speak."
"But did they use the car that day?" he wondered.
"Would have been faster for them to drive themselves, and they wouldn't have the paper trail of a cab or MTA," Alex considered.
"Assuming the car stayed in its usual spot while they were in Greece," Bobby theorized. "The car was too old to have GPS. It would have been a risk to find a place to park near the bank," Alex began, then snapped her fingers. "They didn't park."
"She drove, dropped him off near the bank..."Bobby finished her sentence.
"He shot Richman, then he jogged to a pre-arranged drop," she nodded. "But Stella and the kids were killed first."
"Maybe...maybe they parked away from the building, watched him leave," Bobby pondered.
"With Sonny's access to the building, it would have been easy to slip in the back way or through a service entrance," Alex continued.
"It was Sunday morning, people sleeping in, or gone off to the Hamptons, so there wouldn't be a lot of witnesses around," he said.
"And even if someone did see them, it wouldn't raise an alarm, because they worked there," Alex agreed.
"But they took care not to be seen, because they wanted to give the illusion they were already out of the country," Bobby was certain.
They took one last look around, "It's after five, too late to get access to that safe deposit box," Bobby fretted.
Cutter overheard, "We have someone on it right now, the stuff will be at One PP before you are."
They got into the SUV and headed back to the office. "Chinese?" he queried.
"Uh huh," she steered into rush hour traffic. "Damn it!" someone tried to cut her off.
"Hey, Alex," he said quietly, "Let's get a drink later. I-uh-want to continue our conversation from this morning."
She stopped at a red light, looked at him sideways, "Wish we could go right now," she sighed.
Bobby reached over and squeezed her hand, his smile tender. "Sorry you're having a shitty birthday."
She put the car in gear and inched forward, "It's not, really." She smiled, "It started out really well, as a matter of fact."
Over piles of takeout Chinese, they sorted through the contents of the safe deposit box. "Ah, hah! Flash drive!" Ira said triumphantly, plugging into the nearest terminal.
"Put it up on the big screen," Captain Hannah directed. "What the hell is this?"
"Holy shit! Look at this: she documented every single expense from the time she was pregnant with Samuel." Alex let out a low whistle.
"She kept the receipts?" Bobby was incredulous.
"Uh-huh," his partner nodded. "My guess is she kept them, over the years, until she could scan them into something like this," she picked up the scanning device bagged from the scene. "Then she hid it in a file...labeled, oh, jeez, 'dream house plans'."
"So what are the odds the computer genius kid knew about this?" he chewed over that thought.
Ira shook his head, "My guess, she didn't want him to know. She was the only signatory on the box."
"So it goes back to the money," Alex speared a dumpling with a chopstick. "She doesn't love that kid at all."
"Maybe, maybe not," Bobby mused. "But think about this: Richman has been well-off for many years. Why wait til now?"
"And why involve her son?" Joe Hannah puzzled.
"Revenge," Ira turned to Sam Dimitri's laptop. "He's got tons of articles saved on Samuel Richman over the years, from the time his mother met him in college, until the present."
"She poisoned him, made him hate his father, then killed him and his family." Bobby rubbed a hand over his face.
"But why?" Alex pondered the question in the room. "All she'd have to do is get a DNA test, take it to Richman...and...they'd be set for life."
"Unless Richman knew and refused to pay," Joe reminded her.
"Not likely," Bobby shook his head."Everything we've ever heard about Samuel Richman is that he was a stand up guy. Family, friends, business associates, even clients he couldn't help...no one had a bad thing to say about him."
While they took a late dinner break at their desks, she sent a group email for girls night out. Resa Panotti was an old friend from Vice, now on the anti-corruption task force. Sandy Immel was an ER nurse that was a neighbor back when Alex was married to Joe. Carrie Martin was a friend from junior high. The women were close in age, from diverse backgrounds, and had gathered for a chat-fest at least every other month for about ten years.
Alex listened to the messages on her phone. Lots of birthday wishes from her family, and a cute video clip of Nate singing happy birthday, "Aw, too bad it's too late to call him back," she smiled, holding the screen so Bobby could see.
When they walked out of the squad room at midnight, they were no closer to a certain motive.
"Can I get a rain check on the drink?" she yawned.
"Yeah," Bobby agreed. "Pretty long day."
"With a long week to come," she groaned, hefting her purse to her shoulder.
He pushed the "down" button, "Call me when you get home?"
"Sure," she stifled a yawn.
"You okay to drive?" he asked.
"Diet coke, my friend," she grinned.
After their phone check, the detectives found sleep came a lot easier.
Long week was the understatement of the century, they decided as Wednesday faded into Thursday. The Dimitris were in jail, courtesy of the high bail mandated by the judge. The warrants unearthed a whole new pile of evidence to be reviewed, cataloged and tested. The Dimitris' car was void of any obvious evidence. No blood noted, DNA was pending. The previously unidentified fingerprints in the Richman residence indeed belonged to Gala and Samuel Dimitri. Between the new evidence, dealing with the victims' families, and the media feeding frenzy, there was scarcely time to breathe, let alone have a second date.
All of Major Case was treated to catered Italian food for lunch Thursday courtesy of the Chief of D's. Joe Hannah, Ira, Alex, Bobby, Detectives Rich and Daniels,were in the war room, looking over the evidence gathered thus far between bites.
"You gotta admit, Moran has good taste," Ira was slurping spaghetti.
Alex rolled her eyes, "If we lose this case, he'll expect to be reimbursed for this."
Everyone in the room laughed, knowing Bobby and Alex's history with Moran.
Bobby and Alex managed a few quiet moments in the conference room late in the day,
"Here's some coffee," she handed him a cup.
"Thanks," he took a sip. "So, girls night out tonight."
"Oh, man, I almost forgot," she groaned. "Really shouldn't, there's plenty of work to do here."
"Aw, c'mon, the work will be here tomorrow," Bobby waved a hand.
"I'll go on one condition," she poked a finger at his chest. "You get out of here, too. Go grab a beer with Lewis."
"I will," he nodded.
"Gimme your phone, I want to make sure," she playfully grabbed at his jacket pocket.
Grinning triumphantly, she scrolled through his contacts until she found Lewis, "Hey, Lewis, it's Alex Eames. Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." she laughed. "No, he's fine too. Listen, I need you to do me a really big favor."
Bobby chuckled at her dismayed expression.
"No, not that kind of favor," she rolled her eyes. "Take Bobby out for some beers and those greasy burgers you guys like tonight. No, I'm not coming along. I already have plans."
Bobby extended his hand, taking the phone from her, "Yeah, I'm here."
Lewis was laughing his ass off, "The little woman in charge of your social calendar?"
"She's trying to make sure I don't stay at work half the night," Bobby said reprovingly. "So are we on?" Lewis asked.
"Yeah," Bobby glanced at the clock. "'Bout seven at Williams Burger?" He hung up and looked over at his partner, "Happy now?"
"Yes, I am," she grinned. "See you in the morning."
Alex arrived at Amarok about quarter to seven.
Claire waved her over, "You're behind a round, girlfriend!"
"How did you leave work before me? Aren't you in charge of the same case we are?" Alex sat down and ordered a vodka martini, double.
"Yes, but I sleep with the boss," Claire laughed.
"Where's everyone else?"Alex looked around.
"I told them seven, so I can get the dirt on your new love," her friend admitted.
"What if I'm not ready to share the details?" Alex hedged, taking a long drink.
"Oh, come on. I know who he is, Alex," she scoffed. "And I also know that some our friends work for the PD, and may not..."
"Approve?" Alex slammed back the rest of her drink.
"Hey, I know all about workplace entanglements, remember? And I am happy for you. For both of you," Claire was sober. "It's been a long miserable several years. That you can find happiness with Bobby..." she signaled for another round. "People didn't give Jack and me 15 minutes, let alone 15 years and three kids."
"Thanks," Alex smiled. "The PD...well, you know the issues. It feels...not like we're keeping a secret. It's private, and an...adjustment, for both of us."
"You've loved him for a long time, that's one of the worst kept secrets of the sisterhood," Claire laughed. She spied the rest of their friends moving towards them. "Hey, over here!"
The rest of the evening was spent discussing significant others, kids and family gripes. Alex even described her date, without mentioning a name.
"That was your first date?" Resa was incredulous. "Girl, you'd better hold on to this one."
"Oh, I intend to," Alex grinned.
"What's his name?" Sandy wanted to know. "And does he have a brother?"
"Sandy, you're on the rebound," Carrie scolded. "Give it a rest."
"Hey, I'm ready to climb back in the saddle," she said saucily.
Ten thirty rolled around, and Claire had an unexpected escort home. "Ladies," Jack McCoy leaned over the back of her chair and kissed his wife.
"Is it past her curfew?" Sandy inquired. Jack and Claire freely joked about their age difference, and took no offense when their friends gave them crap.
"Only if she wants it to be," he grinned. "I just thought, no kids in the house..."
"Thank God for summer camp and sleepovers," Claire got to her feet.
"Oh, sure, rub it in," the others laughed.
Friday was another interminable day. Paperwork, phone calls, evidence cataloging.
"Anyone who says this job is thrilling is full of shit," Bobby groaned.
"Amen to that," Alex agreed. She picked up her cell, "Damn."
"What?" he asked.
"I am sentenced to a wedding planning party with Ashley tomorrow," she grumbled. "Girl is turning into a real bridezilla."
"And I'm helping Lewis in the shop tomorrow," he sighed.
They looked glumly at each other across their desks. "Guess the second date thing is shot," he muttered.
"What about Sunday?" she wondered.
"Um, have an appointment with Gyson in the morning," he said.
"Oh, yeah," she sighed. "And we're on call."
"We can hope nobody kills each other," he smiled.
"Um, hmm," she grinned back.
He slid his chair next to hers, "Th-there's a jazz festival on Roosevelt Island Sunday afternoon."
"Sound like fun," she said softly. "Call me after you're done Sunday. I'll be over at Dad's in the morning, if we don't get a call out."
"It's a date," Bobby whispered.
She tried to be a good sport Saturday, listening to Ashley and Maeve drone on about all the minutiae of a big Catholic wedding. Liz was there, along with her sisters in law Melanie, Jessica and Darla. Add that to the groom's mother and two sisters, and it made for an interesting day. Alex idly wondered if she'd need to invoke her badge and gun to restore peace a couple times. No such luck. She dropped into her bed by eleven that night, swearing that if she ever got married again, City Hall would be the best venue.
Bobby had a more enjoyable day than his partner, helping Lewis work on the F85. Sure, it was tedious, but it was a good kind of tedium. The end result would be, hopefully, a fully restored profitable vehicle. Lots of trash talk, a few beers and a few smokes. A couple of their high school buddies had shown up as well, so the party lasted well into the night.
Sunday morning, Alex went for a long run, then headed over to Inwood to check on her dad. She knew that if they got a call out that morning, she would be the one to take it. Bobby's sessions with Gyson were important, and she felt strongly protective of his quest to get better.
Dr Gyson noticed her patient was a bit calmer than at their last session. "We've had a bit of a break," she commented.
"Yes," Bobby assented. "Did you enjoy your time with your family?"
"Very much," she nodded. "How about you? Any progress on the assignment I gave you?"
He chuckled, "What was that? Picnics, little league, and beers with a friend. No picnic or ball games, but I did get together with some old friends."
"Tell me about that," she requested.
"Well, my friend Lewis, the-the one who fixes cars-he's restoring this F 85. It's pretty bare bones right now, but with potential. I've been helping with that. A couple of guys we went to school with, and Lewis' brother Tom...we worked pretty hard on it yesterday."
"You enjoy that kind of work," she commented.
"Uh-huh," he leaned forward, intense. "It's like this great big puzzle, and I've always loved puzzles. You know, manipulating the pieces, seeing where they fit."
"Something that makes you good at your job," the doctor remarked.
Bobby took a drink of water, "I guess so. But with a car...it's not life and death. Not like what we deal with on the job."
"Go on," she prodded.
"This week, we made an arrest in this murder case," his expression darkened. "And while we have evidence, we're still struggling with the 'why'."
"The motives behind criminals actions...that can be a difficult puzzle to solve," she said.
Bobby scrubbed at his face, "But to me, it's important to know the why. And why I have the drawbridge to-to enable me to sleep at night."
"How are you sleeping?" Gyson wondered.
"Uh, pretty well," he laughed wryly. "But twelve to sixteen hour days will do that to you."
"Remember what we discussed about finding a balance," she cautioned.
"I-uh, have," he replied. "I've been out with friends, worked on that car. My partner...Alex and I have tried to take breaks away for lunch. Not a picnic," he joked. "But getting out of the office, rather than eating at our desks."
The therapist noted his loss of eye contact when he talked about Alex, "You spoke of her...reaction to this case in our last session. How is she handling it?"
"She's, um, finding a balance. She has a big family, and they understand cop culture. She's always been better at separating the work and life thing," he directed his gaze out the window. He sure as hell wasn't ready to talk about their first date.
"What you just did," Dr Gyson called him on it. "Your lack of eye contact when I asked about your partner."
"I-um, I'm uncomfortable talking with you about her. Like I'm betraying her trust," Bobby admitted.
"Are you? Betraying her trust?" she pressed.
"What? No!" but his tone was uncertain.
"You let me know that you admire and respect her, but you've never answered the other question," she pushed harder.
"How...what we feel for each other...is between us," he said abruptly, jumping out of his chair to pace the room.
"She's a private person," Gyson clarified.
"Yes, she is," Bobby said vehemently, waving his arms.
"But, detective, it's not about a big declaration to me or even to her. You have to acknowledge those feelings for your own benefit," she said emphatically.
He whirled around to face her, his expression intense, "I love her. Happy now?"
"The question is, are you?" Gyson's tone was just as intense.
Bobby stopped in his tracks. That was the question. Was he happy?
When he didn't answer, she took a deep breath. "I think we've come to a good stopping point. Should we pick this up, uh, next week?"
He stared at her a moment, trying to process. "Yeah," he managed.
Bobby walked out of the office, and pulled out his phone, "Hey," he said in response to Alex's breathless "Hello!"
"Did I catch you in the middle of something?" he wondered.
"Changing clothes. We just got a call out, west 57th," she replied. "Want me to pick you up?"
"Goddamn-it to hell," he cursed silently. "Yeah, I'm outside of Gyson's office." So much for a peaceful Sunday date.
"Some muckety-muck who worked for the mayor," Alex informed him as he got in the SUV. "She went over to her daughter's apartment this morning and found her dead."
"Suspects?" he asked.
"Meth head boyfriend," she snarked. "Whoever it is, they just fucked up our Sunday."
He couldn't help laughing, "Isn't that my line?"
She cast him a rueful grin, "You're rubbing off on me."
They spent the better part of the day clearing the scene, then heading back to the office to book the suspect. True to Eames' snarky prediction, the boyfriend confessed. He was a coke-head, rather than a meth head, but still...
"Want to go for a drink?" Bobby asked as he clicked send on their last report.
Alex glanced at the clock. Nine-thirty. Their pizza dinner was just a few hours behind them, and tomorrow was another busy work day.
"Mind if we just go to your place?" Alex suggested.
Bobby gave her a look as they got into the elevator.
"Not to jump your bones," she grinned. "Yet. It's just closer than mine, and I kinda like the back terrace."
"More privacy for... conversation," he agreed as they walked into the sticky darkness of the parking garage.
She handed him the keys to her Malibu and relaxed into the passenger seat.
He found a parking space not far from his apartment. Just as they cleared the door, thunder crashed and the sky opened up.
"Guess you'll have to settle for the couch," he teased, grabbing a pair of wineglasses and a bottle of Barbaresco.
"Hmm, I'll take it," she grinned, snuggling into one corner.
"So, you didn't answer my question," Bobby reminded as he poured the wine.
"About what?" she said lazily, kicking off her shoes.
"The courtship thing," he handed her a glass and sat next to her.
"If you want to, um, court me, I guess I can live with that," she wore a baffled look as she sipped her wine. "This is really good," her eyes drifted closed.
He managed to crack a smile, "But?" he took a hefty sip.
Alex sighed, "We're not kids anymore, Bobby; we've been friends for a long time. What I'm trying to say is while I love the seduction, I don't need it."
"But I do," he took a deep breath, and put his arm around her, ran his fingers through her hair. "Alex, everything I feel for you is tangled up in how much I treasure you, respect you...I love you."
Her eyes opened wide, "I love you too, Bobby." She stroked his stubbled cheek. "But I don't think that's news to you."
He pressed his lips into her palm, "No, it's not."
Alex set her wineglass down and deliberately pulled his face to hers, "I know it's a big step for you to tell me...how you feel."
"Yeah," his mouth was now firmly against hers, his teeth nibbling lightly on her lower lip. "You..are...the best thing...in my life," he whispered hoarsely.
"And you're mine," she crawled into his lap, her fingers tangled in his hair. Mouths open, tongues tangoing...
"Could get used to this soo easily," he murmured, his lips sliding to the tender spot behind her left ear, one hand cupping her breast through her blouse.
She arched her back, whimpering, "Hmm, Bobby...yes...like that."
"Alex...we have to stop," he groaned.
"I'll stop when you do," she shifted enough that she was straddling his lap. Thunder clapped and they startled. The shift of her hips made them both moan.
Bobby's left hand moved between them, ever lower, rubbing the seam of her slacks, while his right was plucking at her breast, "Hmm, baby...feel good?"
"Yeah," she gasped as he probed deeper. "Um, is this part of the-the courting?" Alex felt her concentration slipping. Even through two layers of cloth his fingers were...so...deft.
He felt her shudder a little, the dampness seeping through to his fingertips, "We're just having a little fun...for a little...longer," his breathing was heavy as his groin tightened.
"So close," Alex panted, bracing her hands on his shoulders.
"Let go, baby, let go," he rasped, looking into her eyes. One stroke, two...three...
"Oh, God, yes, ohhh," the orgasm washed over her and she melted into him, trembling.
He held her close, stroking her damp hair, trying to ignore his raging hard on. "Shh, honey, it's okay..." he whispered.
"No, it's not," she finally could squeak out the words, "because..." She reached between them, firmly cupping him.
"Don't have to..." he tried to move her hand, but she batted him away.
Her expression was both tender and devilish, "I want to court you, too, sweetheart." She kissed him rapaciously, while her small hands squeezed, stroked, caressed him through his pants.
"Tell me if this is how you like it," she whispered.
Bobby pressed his head back into the cushions, his eyes closed, "Ahhh, yeah..."
"Faster?" she felt him jerk in her hand.
"Uh huh," he gasped...before he could get another breath, he came.
She continued to rub gently, murmuring endearments in his ear as he softened under her touch. "If this is how you court a girl, I think I can live with it." she giggled.
Bobby's voice was ragged, "You're pretty good at this courting thing yourself." he kissed her tenderly.
"Could stay like this forever," she snuggled into him sleepily.
"You sleep in the bed, I'll take the couch," he offered.
"It's your house," she scowled. "I'll take the couch."
"I could fall asleep right here," he yawned.
"Or we could both sleep in the bed," Alex smiled. "I am so tired and, um, satisfied...just wanna sleep."
"You're too big a temptation," he chuckled, giving her one final kiss before lifting her off him.
"Then can I have a blanket and something to sleep in?" she yawned.
Bobby returned with clean bedding and an old t shirt, to find his partner soundly asleep. He shook his head and carefully tucked the blanket around her, then after a stop in the bathroom to undress, crawled into his own bed. Tonight, he had no trouble sleeping.
Alex woke around seven, momentarily disoriented. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, memory came rushing back. She stretched, then got up to use the bathroom. It could have been just a dream, she thought, save for the tender feeling between her legs. Alex she lifted her hair and shivered, remembering the feel of his unshaven face buried in her neck, the liquid ecstasy of his touch. How he shuddered against her as she pleasured him. She walked into his bedroom, relieved to see him sleeping soundly. Resisting the urge to wake him she decided a thank you was in order. She smiled at her handiwork as she headed back to Forest Hills to shower and get ready for work.
Bobby's alarm woke him at seven thirty. He rolled over and noticed his suit thrown in a heap at the foot of his bed. Oh, yeah. His brain unfogged and he stumbled into the living room. The nearly empty wineglasses still sat on the coffee table, and the blanket was neatly folded on the end of the couch. He felt an odd sense of disappointment until he saw the note on his bathroom mirror. Written in her favorite shade of lipstick, mocha, he recognized his partner's flowing hand. "You can court me anytime, Bobby. Love, Alex." The kicker? The "kiss" she pressed in the corner of the mirror.
Oh, my! I had the most difficult time whipping this chapter into shape. Trying to move the case along, get Bobby's recovery kicked into gear, and get these two to admit that the real solution to everything is...each other. Sigh. Did I help? Hurt? Any and all suggestions are welcome. Review, and another chapter shall appear.