Zuko sat at his desk, twirling a pen in his hands as he looked at Gyatso's property records. A blank check meant he could get originals from the clerk's office, and Jin had come through for him. The original documents for all properties owned by Gyatso had been waiting for him on his desk when he got in that morning. But it wasn't sitting right with him. There was a disturbance in the pit of his stomach that was keeping him on edge. He twirled the pen again, willing the papers to speak to him.
"Hey, Detective Giggles," Jet called from across the aisle.
It would be immature to make rude hand gestures at a coworker. Zuko did it anyway. He wasn't interested in Jet's petty insults. County records had clearly been falsified. Either that, or someone was doing something funny with Gyatso's signature. But, of course, Gyatso was ancient, so it's reasonable that his hand could have been shaking when he signed his name on a warehouse lease last year. In fact, that signature matched one from three years ago. But on the house that Gyatso bought five years ago? That looked very different. The two newer signatures had a painstaking carefulness to them that just wasn't evident in the older signature. The older signature was grander, little flourishes on the 'g,' a large loop on the 'y,' and a bit of a curl to the 'o.' While the newer signatures replicated these details, something was off about them; it reminded him of his children first learning to write their own names, tiny brows furrowed in concentration, pencils gripped tightly in their hands. Zuko laid the papers out, side by side.
"I was trying to have a polite conversation," Jet said irritably.
"I don't see how calling me Detective Giggles is polite," Zuko said, not bothering to look up. "What do you want Detective Suspicious Activity?"
"Why do you always have to go there?" Jet huffed and scooted in his chair, and lit a cigarette. "Look, I was just going to ask you if you were attending Haru's trial. Hear it's going to be a circus."
There was little mirth in Jet's voice, and Zuko figured he must be having a hard time with this. Even if Haru and Jet were just friends and not business associates, it was still a difficult thing to do, be responsible for your friend going to jail in a spectacular way. But Jet and Haru made their choices; one couldn't blame the other for the consequences of those choices. Jet didn't have to become a cop, but he did. He could have sided with Haru, probably would have been successful at it, could have even managed that gang himself and he would have been better at it than Haru. But Jet chose to become a cop, and now he'd have to live with it.
"I think I've found something a bit bigger," Zuko said, tracing Gyatso's signature with his finger.
"Not going to watch the fruits of your labor?"
"I'm not going to gloat if that's what you're asking."
Carefully, slowly, Zuko ran his finger over those lines again and again, trying to figure out why the signature should get neater or more precise as Gyatso got older. Already, he was formulating reasons to check in on Gyatso and get some handwriting samples. Possibly tell him someone was making fraudulent claims in his name. But Zuko couldn't do it himself; no, his name was too connected to the mob investigations and Gyatso would be suspicious. Even if he was taking his time with the signature, it should still be sloppy. The old man's hand would be shaking all over the place.
"While I'm happy that you're not intending to gloat, Giggles," Jet said, "I'm just surprised that you're not going to the trial. Given how into the mob you are and everything."
Slamming his hands down on the desk, Zuko was ready to lay into Jet for calling him Giggles again, but he stopped. Jet was giving him one of those looks where you try to convey meaning without actually saying anything. Zuko rolled his eyes. He hated those looks. What else could Haru possibly have to offer them? Clearly, Jet wanted him to attend the trial, but if it was something so important that Jet thought Zuko needed to know about it, he should just come out and say it.
"You take that crap somewhere else," Zuko said, pointing at Jet. "If you've got something to say, say it. Don't make eyes at me."
"I'm not making eyes at you," Jet said, wrinkling his nose. "What—"
"You were making eyes at me. Cut it out." Zuko made a shooing motion at Jet. "If you want me to go to Haru's trial, tell me I should go to Haru's trial."
"You should go to Haru's trial."
"Why?"
"Can't say." Jet shrugged. "If you go you'll find out. Got it on good authority."
Grabbing a bunch of papers, Zuko stood and headed for the Operation Soap Bubbles room. He was done with Jet. He should have known he wouldn't get any peace and quiet while he worked at his desk. Not with Jet there making eyes at him.
"I hate you," he called to Jet over his shoulder. "I hope your wife forgot to pack your lunch. Again."
.O.
"I'm just saying it's bothering me."
"That's what's bothering you? Of all the things that could be bothering you, you harp on this signature?"
Xin Fu looked at the three signatures on his desk, his eyebrows nearly in his hairline. He looked at Zuko, shaking his head, but Zuko only pointed back to the signatures.
"I can't explain it, but it doesn't sit right with me."
"Well, let's ignore the signatures for now, focus on the whole document." Xin Fu leaned back and took a long drag from his cigarette. "The house is pretty legit. We can't get anything on him there. These two warehouse properties, though, that's where we've got something."
They'd looked into the warehouse properties in Gyatso's name, and there was alcohol in abundance and trucks to transport it, too. At this point, they were waiting for a few requests to be approved before they could storm the place and seize the payload. After hearing about the booze, Iroh had put in a request for storing the evidence at an off-site location to prevent any…temptation. Even if they all would have liked nothing more than to just crack into a barrel of fine whiskey, it was still evidence. And illegal. Even if Zuko did want a taste of that brandy.
"Interestingly enough," Zuko said, sitting in the chair opposite from Xin Fu, "it doesn't appear that Aang owns any warehouses or distilleries or distributions centers. Maybe it's part of their agreement. Gyatso gets the booze, Aang supplies the entertainment."
Xin Fu nodded thoughtfully. "Sounds likely. Don't know how the judges will take to us prosecuting a ninety-five year old man, though. He'll probably do his best to look weak and frail during the trial. Garner some sympathy."
It didn't matter anyway. They practically had Gyatso on violation of prohibition, and barring any sort of major screw up, Zuko really couldn't see how this open and shut case would flop. But it's not like major screw ups were completely out of the question, and they could run into a spot of trouble if the defense asks how they came by this information. For the time being, Zuko, Iroh, and Xin Fu had decided to classify it as an anonymous tip, but should people start coming forward and claiming they were the ones to give the tip, they could hit a spot of trouble. It was still legitimate that they were considering the tip anonymous, but the jury could be easily swayed if they found out the tipster had anything to do with the mob. Practicality and logic be damned, some jurors would probably blame the police and yell imcompetence.
"How's our search for Mr. Smith coming?" Zuko asked, leaning back in the chair and accepting the cigarette Xin Fu offered. "Please tell me something good."
"The good news is that there aren't as many Smiths in the Chicago Police as we thought." Xin Fu tapped the ashes off his cigarette. "The bad news is that there are still quite a few, and so far, none of them match. I'm ready to send Shin and Gow back to district offices with an order for demotion and retraining."
Zuko laughed mirthlessly. Xin Fu was being infinitely more generous than he was inclined to be. If it were Zuko, he'd strip the two fools of their badges, send them to the worst district in the country to work. He closed his eyes as he let out a long puff of smoke. Whomever this Smith had been, though, they knew their stuff. The leads had checked out. The raid on Aang's casino would have happened already if they had more resources. It was a massive casino, and they would have to go in there with close to fifty armed officers. They needed just a little more time until officers could be pulled from other cases, even if it was just for one day. Timing was everything. If the raid happened on Gyatso's warehouse too long before it happened on Aang's casino, there was a chance that Aang could dump the booze before the cops got there. These two massive raids had to go down at practically the same time.
Xin Fu sighed and ran his hands over his face. "In any case, pretty soon, we'll have an excuse to pay Aang and his father a visit."
Zuko nodded slowly. "By the way, what do you know about Haru's trial?"
"You're asking the wrong person," Xin Fu said, shrugging. "That was your deal. Or Jet's."
"You haven't heard anything? No gossip? Nothing odd that reporters are saying?"
"I read the papers and listen to the radio the same as you do."
From the Operation Soap Bubbles room, Zuko could see his desk, and if he could see his desk, he could see Jet's desk. He'd been keeping to himself ever since Haru's arrest, and Zuko wasn't the only one to notice. No one was whispering anything, but everyone was taking note of Jet's turning down of social invitations. Saying he wanted to spend more time with his family. If Jet did have ties to Haru, and if Haru was planning to side with The Governor to wage war against Smiling Aang and the Bei Fongs, Jet just might know something. Zuko groaned.
"What's that?" Xin Fu asked.
"I think I'll be going to Haru's trial."
.O.
Zuko stood in front of the mirror and adjusted his tie. He sighed heavily. Sure, he missed date nights, but he didn't miss having to get dressed up. He wore a suit every day; to him, there was very little difference between that suit and a tux. But, there he was, standing in front of the mirror, adjusting his tie and trying to figure out which cuff links would be best.
"You don't have to look so depressed," Katara said, coming out of the bathroom and putting on her diamond earrings.
This was why Zuko really liked date nights. Katara was wearing a floor length dress of deep blue, cut low in the front with billowy sleeves. It hugged her waist, accentuating her curves. Katara smiled at him with red lips, the diamonds in her ears and on her neck sparkling in the light of the lamps. Zuko knew he was a lucky man when Katara agreed to marry him. He knew he was a lucky man every day that he woke up next to her.
"Here," Katara said, adjusting his tie. "Do you like my dress?"
Zuko laughed. "How did you know?"
Katara stood on the tips of her toes and kissed him, her lips barely grazing his, her hand resting against his chest. She was small, but firm in his arms. His anchor.
"What do you say we have mom take the kids back to her place rather than stay here, and you and I just stay in?" Zuko suggested.
"Oh, no," Katara said laughing, "you're not getting out of this. I've been waiting for tonight for quite some time." She sashayed off to the closet to pick her shoes.
When they arrived at the posh restaurant, the night was already in full swing. The live band was playing slow jazz loudly and couples swayed together on the dance floor. Jewels glittered on men and women, and Zuko and Katara glided their way past the multitudes to their private table near the rear of the restaurant. As they walked, Katara swayed with the beat, snapping her fingers. Zuko snaked his arm around her waist, and they danced together over to their table. Their lives had been hectic lately. Getting away from it all and being a little indulgent wasn't such a bad thing. With Katara looking as beautiful as she did, feeling as good as she did in his arms, it was hard for Zuko to suppress a smile. It was hard to not get lost in the horns and the drums and the piano.
"See, isn't this a wonderful idea?" Katara asked after they were seated. She leaned forward to speak to him, reaching for his hand across the table.
Zuko looked around the restaurant. Wonderful idea might have been an understatement. The opulence of the dinner club lent opulence to everything inside it. Even the china set out before them seemed grander just for being inside that old beast of a building with its gilded crystal chandeliers and heavy velvet curtains. Decadent smells came from the kitchen on breezes created by waiters in coat tails, silver platters held high to avoid any accidents. People laughed loudly, men slapped their knees in amusement, and a woman with a shrill, bird-like laugh threw her head back as rubies caught the lamplight and sent spurts of red across her dinner guests' faces. A woman with short black hair stepped up to the microphone on the stage, and the band started up another number, a catchy, upbeat song, and Katara bobbed her head, smiling softly. The only thing that was missing was the fine wine, champagne, and a perfectly aged brandy.
"What's so funny?" Katara asked, sipping her water.
"Just thinking how much this place would benefit from a bit of alcohol."
Katara laughed behind her hand and nudged, almost seductively, him gently with her foot. "Aren't you the prohibition agent? You shouldn't be saying that!"
"Correction. I'm a detective with the Chicago Police, Kitten." Zuko raised his glass to her. "I still know the value of a good dark red."
Katara tossed her head back and laughed. When one song ended, the next began almost seamlessly, the horns blaring to life above the rolling thunder of the drums. The crowd roared with pleasure at the familiar opening strain of a popular song, and everyone erupted with applause, and the dance floor quickly filled with couples doing the Foxtrot and Quickstep. Katara pushed back from the table, snapping her fingers and nodding toward the dance floor. With mock reluctance, Zuko followed, Katara enthusiastically taking his hand and leading him between other couples.
"Quickstep or Foxtrot?" Katara asked as she threw her arm around Zuko's neck.
"Katara, you know how I feel—"
"Quickstep it is, then!"
Katara began to lead, causing Zuko to stumble for the first few beats. It was hard to stay in a bad mood with the music and the most beautiful woman in the club in his arms. With a sudden jerk, Zuko switched their positions, taking the lead and silently thanking his mom for teaching him how to dance. He led Katara effortlessly around the floor, and she giggle like a schoolgirl the whole time. He buried his face in her neck as they moved, giving her little kisses, and it didn't matter that they weren't really doing the Quickstep anymore, just that they were together, and they were touching and kissing and laughing, and it was the most fun they'd had in ages. They danced for three songs, and even when they were tired and laughing and out of breath, neither wanted to stop. Zuko thought they still needed nights like these to remind them that they were still young, still in love, and that life was pretty good for them.
It wasn't until they were leaving, that feeling of sated euphoria deep in their bones despite the lack of alcohol, that the night was even the slightest bit tainted. They were still laughing, and Katara was singing a few bars of one song or another, and Zuko saw them.
Smiling Aang and Toph Bei Fong.
Aang was accepting a wad of cash from a scared looking waiter, stuffing it in his suit pocket. He and Toph were holding hands. Zuko frowned. There was just so much wrong about that scene. The waiter was quivering and Toph gave him a harsh shove, causing the man to stumble back. Aang and Toph laughed together before turning and going inside.
"Zuko?"
Katara was tugging at his hand, pulling him toward the waiting cab. Zuko followed, determined not to let this little blight ruin his night. He could always look into it in the morning. He knew, though, that he couldn't send any other detective into this tank of sharks. He needed the answers, and he would get them.
Come hell or high water.
I'm not dead! I'm not dead! I've managed to injure my finger, so it's in a metal splint, which makes it hard for me to type. Updates might be a bit slow for a while, but I'm still working on it. I've already got the next chapter planned, and hopefully, I'm finally working toward an ending.
In other news, I like writing Zuko/Jet scenes. This is why Jet should still be alive. Could you imagine a Zuko-Jet-Sokka friendship? I can :D