Title: Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow
Author: Très Méchante
Characters/Pairing: Detective Mike Logan, Detective Lenny Briscoe
Summary: Who are you going to believe: the weather guy or your partner?
Rating: K+
Spoilers: Zip
Word Count: approx. 870 words
Warning: None
Disclaimer: Well, the story is mine, but the characters, most assuredly, are not. Except Wally and Sammy, but they are available if the price is right.
Archive: Only with permission.
Inspired by title: "Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow" by Frank Sinatra
"You, my friend, are full of it."
Lennie smirked at his partner. "Care to make a small wager?"
Mike scoffed. "According to you, when I paid for that coffee and muffin you scarfed down an hour ago, you haven't got two pennies to rub together."
"Which would be why I need yours," Lennie shot back. "C'mon, if you're that sure then you shouldn't be afraid to put up the money."
Mike made a show of looking up and examining the sky. "There's not a cloud in the sky – not even a hint of clouds. The temperature's on the plus side of freezing and climbing. Lennie, there's no way it's going to snow."
"Says you. My ankle has been killing me all day. That means snow." Lennie pointed at Mike for emphasis. "My bum ankle is more accurate than the weather channel – it's never wrong."
"What, so instead of AccuWeather, you got AccuAnkle?"
"Smartass. I'm telling you it's never been wrong."
Mike snorted and directed Lennie over to the crowd gathered in front of an old apartment building. A uniformed officer hurried over to them. "Detectives."
"Hey Sammy," called out Lennie. "How's the wife?"
"What wife?" asked Sammy as he ushered them to the entrance.
"Oh, not again."
"Yep. Divorce number six. The ink should be dry by supper time."
"Sorry to hear that," offered Mike.
"Nah. It's my bad. Next time I'll make sure she don't know any of the exes."
Lennie rolled his eyes. "Funny guy. So, what's the scoop here?"
"The usual – loud voices, angry neighbours, threats, shots fired."
Mike frowned. "And you called us because..."
"Turns out the guy in the apartment with all the action is a person of interest for you guys." Sammy consulted his notebook. "You've been looking for one Walter Henry Rubens, right?"
Mike and Lennie exchanged looks of disbelief.
Mike turned to Sammy. "Tell me he's not dead."
Sammy shrugged. "Nah, he's okay. Seems the altercation in question was a loud police drama on tv. But when we called this in, we got a hit on the name, including a warrant for unpaid parking tickets."
"The fiend," muttered Mike.
Sammy rolled his eyes. "There was also a red flag to call you guys." He indicated the stairs. "He's all yours."
Lennie and Mike climbed the stairs up to the third floor, where they followed the sound of shouting to the right suite.
Lennie walked into the living room and greeted the yelling man. "Put a sock in it, Wally. You're giving me a headache."
Wally spun around to face him. "Geez, what do I gotta do to make you guys go away!"
Mike gave him a nasty smile. "It's the price you pay for not living right," he said. He looked around the squalid room. "Nice digs."
"Screw you!"
"Not before you buy me dinner," Mike shot back. "So, what's all the commotion about?"
Wally immediately tried to look innocent, which only succeeded in making him look constipated.
The uniformed officer shrugged. "He's been antsy since we got here."
"Something to hide, Wally?" asked Mike.
"Who, me? Nope. I got nothin' to tell you and nothin' to hide. Not me. No way." Wally began edging towards a closet as he spoke. "Look, I'll keep the noise down. Hell, I'll even come down to the station with ya, share a little of my wisdom or somethin'. C'mon, let's go."
Mike and Lennie exchanged looks at Wally's odd – odder than usual – behaviour.
Lennie shrugged. "Okay, Wally, why don't you just grab your coat and we'll get going."
Wally started to turn toward the closet, but suddenly stopped. "Uh, no. No coat. I'm feeling kinda warm. Really. Let's go."
Mike took a step toward him. "Not quite yet. Wally, my man, I really think you're trying to hide something."
Wally backed up quickly and then stumbled over a pile of clothes on the floor. He bounced off the closet door, which began to open. Wally yelped and quickly pushed the door closed again.
Mike glanced at Lennie and then back at the closet door. Lennie glanced towards the apartment door and back at Mike – and smirked.
Lennie gestured toward the door. "Okay, Wally, after you."
Wally shot Mike a triumphant look as he headed to the door. However, the look quickly changed to one of fear when he noticed Mike edging toward the closet.
"Hey! You can't do that! You don't got no search warrant," accused Wally as he rushed back in. Unfortunately, he stumbled over the same pile of clothes on the floor, hit the closet door and bounced backwards onto the floor.
Everyone watched as the door rattled and opened. A thud from within the closet was followed by the door suddenly being thrust open. Lennie, Mike and the uniformed officer had their weapons drawn before they realized there was no threat.
What there was, instead, was an overturned cardboard box and hundreds of little plastic bags filled with white powder strewn across the floor.
For a moment, no one said anything; no one even moved.
Mike cleared his throat. "Huh. Well, partner, looks like you might be right after all," he said, indicating the packets on the floor. "It definitely looks like snow."
-end-