Justice by InSilva
Disclaimer: still not mine when I last looked.
A/N: long and necessarily bitty. Sorry. I know that doesn't make for smooth reading.
Chapter Seventeen: Advice
Rusty came to and was immediately aware of three things. One was Saul's gentle snoring; the second was that Danny had encroached on his side of the bed in the night and now had his face buried in Rusty's pillow and an arm flung casually about his waist. And thirdly, he was being watched.
His eyes shot open to see Turk staring down at him, mouth on its way to forming an "O".
Well, this was just going to add grist to the rumour mill. From the group of people they had worked with of late, Rusty felt he knew who didn't much care; who enjoyed playing with the situation almost as much as he did; who looked like they wished they'd asked the question before the moment had passed; who looked like the question was going to burst out of them at any time; and of course, Yen.
Yen, who had voiced the question. Yen, who had watched them and frowned and caught hold of Rusty's arm and asked "You guys fuck or what?"
And because Danny was present and Rusty knew it would annoy him, Rusty had answered in elegant Cantonese, "Define "what" and I'll tell you. Until then, I can't answer". Yen had looked momentarily annoyed and then he'd laughed like he'd never stop.
Turk and Virgil probably felt they knew the truth. Of course, they wouldn't agree on what the truth was.
Holding a finger briefly up to his lips, Rusty carefully took hold of Danny's arm and gently rolled Danny on to his back. Then he extricated himself and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Moment of truth. He pushed himself upright and was pleased to find that his feet felt likely to support him. Pulling a bathrobe about himself, he motioned Turk out of the room and they headed for the kitchen.
"I sorted out breakfast," Turk jerked his head at the table where he'd laid out toast and honey and orange juice.
"You will make someone a great wife," Rusty smiled and Turk pulled his fist back as if to punch Rusty's shoulder and then looked like he'd thought better of it.
They sat down at the table and Rusty started ladling butter and honey on to the bread.
"Sounds like you were a hit with Anna-Mae," he said lightly.
"Aw, Danny laid it on a bit thick," Turk shrugged, smiling. "She's a sweet little thing. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Danny said she was a manicurist, didn't he?"
"Yep. Manicurist, Gino's hands, cause of the fight. Covered all that."
Turk looked down at his own hands and across at Rusty's which were elegantly groomed. "She wouldn't like my great old paws. Only fit for rummaging around under the hood of a truck."
He looked over at Rusty and sighed.
"I know he's told you," Turk said, staring down at his glass of OJ. "Danny, I mean. I know he's told you. I mean you're Danny and Rusty. Of course, he has."
Rusty concentrated on his toast.
"I just…man…it hurts, you know."
Yeah. "How serious is it?"
"Serious enough for me to pick up this lousy limo ride. No offence, Rusty, but this city's…"
He sighed again. "The other week, he said something and I came back with something and…and he said nothing – not a thing. And I just felt so…"
Rusty took a bite. "What do you want me to tell you, Turk?" Because he could tell him many things.
Turk took a deep breath. "Tell me it like it is."
Like it is…OK…
Rusty put down the toast and rubbed the crumbs off his fingers.
"It starts and it stings like fury and you're angry with him, angry with her and most of all angry with yourself for being angry. You want to deny it's happening but you can't avoid what your eyes are telling you. You would give anything to have things back the way they were."
Turk nodded slowly in silent agreement.
"Thing is, Turk, after a while you realise no one's being replaced, no one's getting cut out of anything. Different relationships, Turk, and there is room for two in someone's life. Right now, maybe it doesn't seem that way. You just have to roll with the punches until it comes right again."
"You think…"
"I've known Danny a long time. But you've known Virgil your whole life. Of course, it's going to come right."
Turk nodded slowly, digesting what Rusty had said. "Thanks."
"No problem." And he was pleased to see Turk look a little comforted. He turned his attention back to the toast and then heard:
"You really were angry?"
Rusty smiled to himself and reflected briefly on how few people had ever seen him lose his temper and how even fewer of them had realised what they were seeing.
"I burned white-hot. But only for a while."
"Did you-did you hit him at all?"
Huh. That would probably have been better than what he had done.
"No." Rusty looked at Turk and his face asked the question.
"Punched him on the jaw when he told me. He didn't even punch me back." He sounded thoroughly miserable.
Rusty remembered that the Malloys expressed their love as much with the physical violence as the verbal sniping.
"He will, Turk," he promised. "Just give him time."
Turk looked over at the sink with the remains of the chilli dishes.
"I'll start in on these."
"Really?" Rusty looked startled. He so didn't do domestic.
"I like to be busy these days."
Well, he could relate to that.
Rusty wandered back into the bedroom. Saul was still fast asleep and Rusty stared down at him. After tonight, it wasn't just Danny he wasn't going to see for a while. And at the back of his mind nowadays was the thought that there were never any guarantees about anything.
He glanced over at the other bed. Danny was awake; sitting up, hands behind his head, looking over at him. And Rusty didn't need to ask whether or not he'd overheard his conversation with Turk. He crossed over and sat on the edge of the bed and read many things in Danny's eyes.
"Don't you go getting soppy on me," Rusty warned.
"Heaven forbid," Danny smiled then looked thoughtful. "You know, what with one thing and another, I haven't asked you how Saul came round to your way of thinking. I mean I know you have a silver tongue but-"
"Told him what I told you. Something I had to do."
"And he was OK with that?"
"He was OK."
"Somehow I thought he'd be more-"
"Oh, he was. Believe me, he was." Rusty still felt the chill of imagining Danny in his place. "But I can be convincing."
"Worked that out by now."
There was a silence.
"Hey, Turk made toast."
"He did?"
"Not burnt or anything."
"Amazing." Danny shook his head in mock-shock. He looked at Rusty sitting straight and pain-free. "How are you feeling?"
"Not amazing," Rusty admitted. "But my feet are fine. Should be able to get my shoes on at least. And the shoulders are getting there. More of a dull ache…"
There was more than a hint in the latter part of the sentence and Danny's mouth crooked into a smile.
"Here? Now?"
Rusty's own smile was wider than Danny's. "I'll tell you about earlier later. Trust me, after that, this isn't going to do any harm."
"I've looked everywhere but there's no detergent, Rusty-" Turk stopped dead at the sight of Danny massaging muscle rub into Rusty's shoulders. Rusty opened one eye to see Turk's mouth forming an "O" once again.
"Don't think there is any, Turk."
"Rusty and detergent. Two words I never expect to hear in the same sentence," Danny contributed, still working on Rusty's shoulders. "Detergent would ruin his hands. Not to mention his street cred."
"What street cred?" Saul was awake. "We all know the way he dresses."
Somewhere from the other room came a synthesised version of "Bad Moon Rising" and Turk ran to answer his phone. The other three immediately padded after him.
"Hi, Anna-Mae," Turk said and everyone in the room suddenly breathed easier.
Anna-Mae had been tearful and worried and had listened to comforting words and reassurance from Joey. Finally she had agreed to meet him back at Shelleys at ten o'clock.
"You coming?" Turk asked Danny who shook his head.
"You don't need me, Turk, I'll only get in the way. But if she is going to change her story the next step's going to be talking to the defence lawyer. Persuading her to see the error of her ways."
He looked over at Saul.
"You'd make an excellent retired judge, you know."
Saul thought for a moment.
"Clarendon Harper," he said in a broad Southern accent. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."
"Has Clarendon Harper got a suit with him?" Rusty enquired and Saul's face fell.
"Maybe he was on a fishing trip?"
Rusty and Danny exchanged glances.
"OK," Danny said. "I'll take Clarendon shopping. Turk? As soon as you get Anna-Mae onside, you phone me."
He picked up his jacket off a chair and fished around for the notepad and pen – the journalistic prop he hadn't needed to use – and looked at Rusty.
"Defence lawyer's name?"
"Barbara Campbell," Rusty said promptly. "Her practice is Harvey, Thompson, Allen and Vine. Corner of Freer Street."
Turk stared at him. "You just know this?"
Rusty shrugged and Danny was pleased to see the shrug was wince-free. "It was all on some court paperwork."
And that was plausible and very likely. Except it wasn't why Rusty knew. Rusty knew the name because he'd heard it once. He knew the practice because he'd overheard half a conversation between two court officials. He knew where the practice was housed because he'd driven past it on more than one occasion, although it really only needed to be the one time. Rusty's brain just worked that way.
Danny saw a thought passing through Rusty's mind. "What is it?"
"Defence had new evidence."
"Yeah," Danny said heavily. He had a theory about that.
"So maybe she's honest?" Turk sounded hopeful.
Rusty was looking at Danny and his shoulders sagged.
I hate it when you're right.
Saul was already there. "New evidence means adjournment."
"Adjournment means court breaks early," Rusty said dully.
"Breaking early means Vincente's men could pick up Rusty," Danny finished.
"Oh, he's good," Turk said fervently and as one, the other three smiled with more than a hint of bittersweetness.
Turk had left and Danny and Saul were about to.
Rusty emerged from the bedroom in a dark green suit that Saul declared positively sober.
"What are you gonna do?" Danny asked curiously.
"My job."
"You're-"
"Yes, I am setting foot outside this room. I have books to look over, reports to read and it's nearly five weeks since I've shown an interest. And since I'm imminently about to walk away from the place, I need to spend the day preparing."
No arguments.
"I brought you movies," Danny said, wounded.
Rusty looked at the selection. "'Godfather III'? 'My Cousin Vinny'? 'Mr Smith Goes to Washington'? What's wrong? Couldn't you find 'Twelve Angry Men'?"
"They seemed appropriate." Danny tried hard not to say what he wanted to say next but it came out anyway. "And what if Vincente-"
"He's not going to try anything until tomorrow. He told me."
"And you-"
"-yes." Closing the line of discussion down, Rusty picked up his phone. "Just keep me in the loop."
Danny and Clarendon Harper sat in the car opposite the legal practice. Clarendon was dressed in a suit of apt gravitas and his Southern accent had grown noticeably richer and broader.
"Here," Danny handed Saul his phone. "I'll go and see what I can find."
He climbed out of the car and crossed the street. The practice was naturally shut up tight on the Sunday. Danny's eyes ran from the alarm to the cable to the door the cable disappeared behind. A small tool appeared in his hand and he got to work.
Turk had bought Anna-Mae three hot chocolates and had dug out a mostly clean handkerchief which was now wringing wet.
"I-I-I'm not a b-bad person," she sobbed and Turk reached across the table and squeezed her hand.
"I know you're not, Anna-Mae. You're too pretty to be bad."
She sniffed and smiled.
"I don't know what to do," she said helplessly and Turk held both of her hands in his and smiled.
"I do."
Inside the practice, Danny had located Barbara's office. It was stern and sterile, no frippery, no personal. And actually, no personal: no home address in evidence.
He thought laterally (literally) for a moment and crossed the corridor to an office that belonged according to the door to Richard Allen, Attorney-at-Law. In his rolodex, there was an address belonging to Barbara C. Bingo.
Around a table in one of the newly refurbished conference rooms at the Standard, sat representatives of the management team and Rusty. He had called a heads of department meeting from those who were on duty and was busy hearing how his hotel had been functioning for the past month or so.
Not too badly was the answer. Room bookings were steady. Events were picking up thanks in no small part to the breakfast on arrival. Rusty had suggested it and it had definitely added to the wow factor for delegates. Housekeeping reported staff turnover was declining and the food and beverages stocktake had yielded a shrinkage figure well within the parameters Rusty had laid down. Reception presented their schedules for the forthcoming month which were on the whole fine ("Change Kirsty up, guys. She's been stuck on evenings since forever").
Arthur hesitantly mentioned the alarms incident.
"System relay malfunction," Rusty said smoothly. "Had assurances from the engineers it won't happen again."
"We had a number of complaints," he said apologetically and Rusty felt his own face pulling into a reciprocal apologetic expression. It had after all been because of him. "We had to reduce people's bills to accommodate for the inconvenience."
"Write to everybody who stayed here that night whether they complained or not. Whether we gave them their money back or not," Rusty instructed. "Offer them a weekend for two for free to be taken over the next six months. Dinner included."
Arthur wore a similar expression to Linus when he was bemused and Rusty reminded himself that Arthur had only been on board about three months. Those who had worked with him longer smiled and nodded approval. It wasn't the first time Mr Ryan had endeavoured successfully to exceed customer expectations.
Suddenly, Arthur seemed to be aware of everyone else's reaction and his face relaxed. He nodded approval too and Rusty felt something close to satisfaction.
Turk called just as Danny reached the car and Saul passed the phone over.
"Anna-Mae's prepared to be recalled as a witness. She's got something to add to her story."
"Did she say what?"
"No. I didn't want to push it. She looked…fragile."
"OK." It was probably a good call. "Well done. You heading back?"
There was a pause.
"Actually, Anna-Mae's just powdering her nose. We're going to take in a movie."
"Right," Danny smiled. "But don't be too visible."
"The lights'll be down in the cinema, right?"
"For your sake I hope so." He closed the call and looked over at Saul. "Come on, Clarendon, we're up."