NYPD GLEE CHAPTER 4
It was a scant hour later that Puck found himself beside Rachel once more, driving through New York towards the high-rise offices of Stockton, Burnham & Walters to interview Brian Walters. The website had proudly proclaimed the slogan "Investment-Bankers you can trust", making Puck scoff loudly.
Right now, he was more scared of Rachel's driving skills. She drove like an epileptic blind chick sittin' on a bunch of bees in a warzone.
"Fuck's sake, Berry, I'd like to get there in one piece if you don't mind!" He shouted.
"Stop complaining, at least we are getting there today! I let you drive for ten minutes and you got us all the way around the block and back. Not exactly something I would advertise!" She snapped back. Somehow they seemed to flit effortlessly between calm, even friendly conversation and being at each other's throats.
"If you had given me the right directions, I wouldn't have had to circle around, now would I!" he argued.
"I told you left, left is where the thumb's right, were you sick the day of that lesson or were you too busy banging the nurse?" It occurred to Puck that a Rachel Berry who did not pull any punches and was no longer quite as easily flustered could be an awfully dangerous thing.
"I turned left, it's not my fault that lane directed us back the way we came!"
"Yeah, right. Just admit it, if I had let you drive, we still wouldn't be here." The car stopped in front of a tall skyscraper. Mr.'s Stockton, Burnham and Walters had obviously done well for themselves.
By the time Puck had finished that thought, Rachel had once more left him sitting on his own in the car. With an annoyed huff, he ran after her.
Huffing, he managed to just get into the elevator with her.
"Seriously midget, what's up with you and ditching me?" He wheezed.
"I'm not all that keen on keeping the company of people who use my diminutive size to insult me, imagine that." Came the dry reply.
"Whatever, Tiny Tim. I'm your partner, stop leaving me sitting in the car like some pet." He grumbled.
"Trust me; if you were my pet, I'd have had you neutered a long time ago." She deadpanned.
The Businessman standing in front of them chortled at that.
"Hey, Nosy, didn't your momma tell you eavesdropping's not nice?" He glared at the back of the man's head. Yet somehow these Wall street-types were not all that intimidated by his usual methods. Instead of folding like a wet piece of paper, the guy simply turns around and sneers.
"Hey, jackass, didn't your mother ever tell you not to mess with people who could probably buy your flat a few times over?" Puck looked stunned for a second, until the guy had the nerve to hit on Rachel. With a slimy grin, he grabbed her hand and brushed a kiss across her knuckles.
"Jeremy Burnham, a pleasure. Now, what is such an exquisite creature such as you doing with such a . . . specimen as this charming young gentleman here?" He openly leered at her.
Rachel for her part just smiled sweetly and pulled her hand away. As if by accident, her palm came to rest on her hip, pushing back her blazer and exposing both badge and gun-holster.
"I'm afraid we're here on business, Mr. Burnham. With you, even. I'm Detective Berry, this is Detective Puckerman." The jerk's smile had wavered for a second when he saw gun and badge. When Rachel mentioned business however, his smarm-factor increases. Unknowingly, Puck stepped closer to her, his hand resting on the butt of his gun as well. He couldn't help but notice that Rachel had not introduced him as her partner
The tense moment was broken when the elevator dinged and the doors opened on the appropriate floor.
"Should we maybe continue this discussion inside?" He gestured grandly, as if the two detectives would need his permission.
Puck was about to give a snappy response, when Rachel interrupted politely.
"Actually, Mr. Burnham, if it isn't too much trouble, we really would like to speak to Mr. Walters first."
"Of course, right through here." He led them through glass doors into a small lobby for an office. An older woman sat behind a desk, typing away at a computer. When Burnham entered, she shot him a look of thinly veiled disgust.
"Mrs. Woyczek, these detectives would like to have a word with Brian, if that is possible?" The look he gave the secretary clearly stated that it would be possible, regardless of her input.
"Of course, Mr. Burnham." She pressed the Intercom.
"Mr. Walters, there are some Detectives here to see you."
"Send them in, Martha." Came the metallic response.
With a last predatory smile at Rachel and a smug and challenging look at Puck, Burnham left them.
Brian Walters turned out to be a tall, very attractive man around 39. He was well-built and obviously took very good care of himself. His hair-cut looked to be of the hundred-dollar variety and his skin was naturally tanned. His suit was well-tailored and the fact that he stood up as soon as he spotted Rachel showed his good manners. In addition, the shelves filled with books such as Tolstoy or Nietzsche showed him to be more than just a pretty face.
Only problem was, after opening his mouth, Puck was convinced that he knew it, too.
To his credit, Walters' glance did not linger on Rachel in the slightest, very much different from Burnham.
"So, I take it you are here because of Jason. Sarah called me this morning in hysterics. She and Jason had just gotten back from Paris, tragic, such a thing." He shook his head sadly.
"He was such a good man. Always generous and giving. You know, we pride ourselves here at Stockton, Burnham and Walters to only hire well-rounded individuals. All that shark-talk and the heavy competition only prevents us from doing what is best for our clients." Even his smile seemed perfect. Puck barely stopped himself from growling.
Rachel seemed to eat it up and gave him an understanding smile.
"Yes, we heard similar things from Mrs. Stockton, Mr. Walters. A tragedy, really. She also mentioned that you two had been fighting on the phone a lot more recently?" Her innocent tone threw him off and the perfect façade briefly crumbled.
"We were not really fighting, more arguing, if you will. Jason had made a few business decisions I did not agree with, we discussed it, it got heated, and that's it. Certainly nothing worth killing someone over, if that is what you are suggesting." His dark blue eyes rested on Puck, who felt urged to reply.
"Well, I've seen people do a lot worse for a lot less …" he replied.
Rachel gave him an admonishing glance.
"We are simply checking all our bases. What was your relationship in general like?"
"We were good friends. Jason was actually my professor at Stanford, for business. We became friends over a few drinks throughout the years. Ten years ago we decided to go into business, together with Rob, whom you have met I assume. I was there for him when his first wife died, and I was one of his groom's men at his and Sarah's wedding four years ago. We played golf, every Sunday." Walters' voice was calm throughout his speech.
Rachel jotted everything down on a note-pad. Puck had to cover a snort at her obvious liking of Walters' story.
"So, Mr. Walters" he broke in "can you think of anyone besides you who would have had a motive for killing your partner?" Walters looked indignant for a second at even being considered a suspect.
"Well, our trade is not exactly known for happiness all around. I can send you our financial records; you should be able to find anything you need to know in there." He fell silent for a minute.
"Oh, and of course there is Riley."
Both Rachel and Puck looked slightly confused at that.
"I'm sorry, Riley, you said?"
"Yes, Riley." An arrogant smile stole its way on his face. Puck felt the urge to grab the stapler and staple it off permanently.
"Riley Woodrow, he took his mother's last name. Jason's son from his first marriage. He is, I think 27? He owns a carpenter's shop, somewhere in the Village. Fancies himself an Artist." An amused chortle resounded from Walters' throat.
With a polite smile, Puck and Rachel nodded, left their cards and took the elevator back down to the ground floor.
"God, I hated those guys! If our Vic was as decent as these douche-bags make him sound, what the hell was he doing with them in business? Bluach!" He shuddered.
"I agree. I feel like I should shower at least ten times." Puck looked at her incredulously.
"What the fuck, Berry? You were basically drooling the entire time Walters was talking! Hell, I'm surprised if you didn't cause water stains at the ceiling below!" She huffed indignantly.
"It's called acting, you Idiot! You do still have a somewhat functioning brain, or did you shave that off too, when you acquired that ridiculous hairstyle?" It took him a few seconds to understand she was referring to his Mohawk back in high school and not the slightly tousled locks he was sporting right now.
"Hey, stop calling me stupid, alright? I'm not Finn, for Christ's sake!"
"I would hope not, otherwise you'd be a jerk and stupid, imagine what that would say about the tastes of Lima's middle-aged house-wife population!"
"Screw you, Berry! Who the fuck are you to judge my lifestyle! You don't know nothing about me!"
"I know enough to realize that you're a giant pain in the ass with no clue how to do proper detective work! You openly hostile and belligerent in there! Dammit, we need these people later on! I realize these are not your usual geniuses who sell heroin or crack in broad daylight and break under the slightest pressure, but dammit Puckerman, you better stop pissing off witnesses and messing with my case!" By now she was shouting at him.
"Oh, your case, is it? I'm your fucking partner, Berry! You may not like it, fuck, you might even hate this and me right along, but don't tell me how to do my job! I'm the pain in the ass? Hell, you've been ready to rip me a new one from the get go! All you do is judge and tell me what I do wrong! Fuck's sake, I'm not the one compromising this investigation because I can't keep it in my pants! No wonder your last Partner ditched you!"
A resounding slap could be heard around the cabin. Puck felt the sting on his face and knew he would feel that one for a few more hours. He knew he had crossed a line with that last sentence, but dammit if she didn't get him angry enough to do shit like that.
Rachel stood across from him, her eyes burning with anger.
Both their chests were heaving from shouting. Puck honestly didn't know what made him do it. Was it the way the artificial light hit her hair? Was it the fact that this one day with her had him on an emotional rollercoaster more exciting than Magic Mountain? Was it just seeing something from his past again?
He didn't know and he didn't care, he just knew one minute they were standing opposite each other, ready to tear each other's throats out, the next he had her backed into the nearest wall and they were making out like the teenagers they once were.