Brian and Gretchen made the twins sit down to their own homework after pizza, leaving Rachel, Izzie, and Clare to themselves. The girls, lounging in front of daytime TV, meandered through talking about clothes, Izzie's potential career options, school dances, and, finally, boys. Both Rachel and Izzie gave Clare sly looks before Rachel asked if Izzie had her eye on anyone.
"No one serious. High school boys are high school boys, the only ones I'd be interested in see me as a, I dunno, little sister. It sucks."
"They're always like that," Clare assured her.
Izzie gave her a sideways look that Rachel pre-empted, "It's always tough for a strong woman. No matter what century, it's a bitch to find the right man."
Izzie continued her sideways look at Clare, this time Rachel did not intervene, then she turned to Rachel, "So, your colleague, Deputy Gutterson, yeah, he mentioned diamonds last night."
Rachel's eyebrows skyrocketed. Clare's eyes merely rolled.
"Yeah, they were cuddling, and I said something about not wanting a lousy dress for the wedding-"
"And he made a joke," Clare interrupted. "Stop it."
"A grown man knows better than to joke about diamonds with his girl next to him," Izzie snarked with fifteen-year-old wisdom.
"You'd like to think so, huh?" Clare shot back.
Rachel laughed and put her hand over her mouth, "You two sound so much like me and my sister." She snorted, "Sorry, it's not funny."
"No, it's a little funny," Clare conceded, with Izzie's nod of confirmation.
"We used to argue like that. It's reassuring the things that stay the same."
"Used to?" Izzie said to Clare's wince.
"She passed a few years ago."
"I'm sorry," Izzie pressed on, ignorant of Clare's silent efforts to get her to shut up. "Were you close?"
"Once upon a time," Rachel said with sad smile, "We grew apart and then she got married and had Nick, my nephew, and then there was an accident. And she died."
"I'm sorry," Izzie repeated, taking Rachel's hand. Rachel glanced at Clare, taking Izzie's hand, "Savor the one's you love. That's what that teaches us. Let the ones we love know it."
"I love you, Clare-bear."
"I love you, Izzie-bean."
Then the three laughed and dismissed all seriousness. "So, Tim mentioned something relating to commitment? Does that mean you're going to be the commitment phobic one?"
Clare pressed her lips together, smile playing at them, "I've never been scared of anything in my life, Deputy Brooks. And that is all I will say on the subject."
Izzie leant over, "See, why I brought up the dress?"
Duffy sat at a little table and gestured for Tim to sit. Tim sat. "I don't know who killed Tony. I haven't had a dealing with Graham Sullivan years. He's a customer, but we don't how do you say, keep up with each other."
"And Moss?"
"I'm trusting, Marshal, that you are rather more, um, stable than our friend Deputy Givens," Wynn said.
"Mr. Duffy, I don't know what Raylan has done lately to earn your fear and respect, but if I have to ask him, please trust I will be more creative than Raylan in earning your fear and respect."
Duffy blinked, "Noted."
"I was asking about Edgar Moss."
"Spoke to him a few days ago."
"Did he have dealings with Tony Kender?" Tim repeated.
"Not that I am currently aware of."
"So, he didn't mention it when you spoke two days ago."
"No."
"Uh huh. So, what did ya'll talk about?"
"He purchased a new piece of artwork, he was curious if I thought he should upgrade his security for it."
"Uh huh. I'd think that conversation might take longer than seven and a half minutes, Mr. Duffy."
"Well, I can't help what you think, Deputy Gutterson."
"When you say 'currently aware,' does that mean you need to ask around?"
Duffy smiled his snake smile, "What does it get me if I do?"
"It saves you the beating you should get for mentioning that little doctor."
"Oh, is that all? I'll be sure to look into that."
Tim's hand reached out and slammed Duffy's face into the tabletop before he could stop himself. Not that he wanted to stop himself.
"Fuck!" Duffy said nasally, what with the blood coming out his nose and all.
"If you'd prefer the beating..." Tim offered conversationally.
" 'I'll see what I can do', is that what you'd like to hear?"
"Am I hearing it?"
Duffy pulled a pristine handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his nose then spat into it, "Yes. Is that all?"
Tim rose, placed a card from his pocket on the table next to Duffy's blood, and leaned over to say softly, "If you mention the little doctor again, you'll start missing my partner's impulsive violence. Is that clear?"
Duffy nodded, "Crystal, Deputy."
"Good. I look forward to your call. Have a nice day, Mr. Duffy," Tim turned and walked back out to Raylan and Mike.
Raylan watched Tim with a growing sense of anxiety. His swagger was too controlled. His expression, too empty. Put it this way, if it hadn't been his partner walking towards him, Raylan would have given serious thought to pulling his side arm.
As it was, Tim just walked past them and got in the passenger seat. Raylan tipped his hat to Mike and got in the driver's side. "Anything new?"
"Pointed us at Graham. Said he'd ask around."
"He'd 'ask around'?"
"Seemed very friendly once I'd explained everything. Are we going to Graham's office now?"
Raylan turned on the Town car, "Yeah, sure. Graham's office."
Q greeted them and offered to escort them to Graham's office. "I put a guy, Walker, with him since the attacks on Brian and Clare."
Tim nodded. Raylan introduced himself, "So, anything exciting happen lately?"
Q grinned, "My job to keep it from being exciting. And I'm good at my job."
Raylan smiled, shaking Q's hand without much of the previous apprehension he would have had over shaking hands with any one of Wynn Duffy's business acquaintances. He and Q spared a glance to Tim's unchanging expression and then each other. "We really need to talk to Graham," he explained.
"Uh huh," Q's eyes narrowed, and he punched the elevator button a little more vigorously than necessary. "So, Graham wants out, huh?"
Raylan's eyes went to Q, but Tim just said, "Yup."
Q hit the button once more, glared at the non-responsive elevator, then turned to the receptionist at the desk in the middle of the entryway, "Stella, have we heard about a problem with the elevators?"
"Not today, I can call Maintenance for you?" the perkily competent middle-aged woman offered.
"Yeah, but can you call up to Graham Sullivan's office for us first?" Q exchanged glances with the Marshals, pulling his walkie.
Stella nodded, already calling up.
Q got on his radio, "Q to Pete, you still with Graham? Over."
Q got static. The three made for the stairs as Stella shouted, "Graham's on a call with Brian, Mandy says. She hasn't seen Pete since lunch."
Raylan pointed at her, instructing as Tim and Q started taking the steps three at a time, "Call the Lexington Marshal's office. Tell them exactly what you told us." Stella nodded, phone to her ear. Raylan started up the stairs, calling reinforcements through 9-1-1 on his cell.
Rachel was bored. Clare and Izzie had resumed combat tactics with the twins after they'd finished their long-division. Gretchen was taking a nap to avoid killing the twins after their long-division debacle, and Brian was on his laptop with an earpiece in reviewing reports, near as she could tell.
Garcia was in the van out front and Rachel was more than a little jealous. She couldn't very well sit and play Bad Piggies in front of her protectees, could she?
Couldn't even review her list of fugitives suspected of being in the Eastern District.
It was nearing dinnertime by the time Clare and Izzie opted to strike and the boys attached themselves to Rachel with big eyes, "What do Marshals do?"
"Lots of stuff. Mostly fugitives, prisoner transport, we run the Witness Protection Program, too."
Her phone rang, cutting off their next question, "Hey, Garcia..."
Rachel stiffened. Clare watched her from the couch. "Boys, let's go upstairs and see Mama," she whispered looking at Rachel.
Rachel nodded, mouthed, "Closet," at her.
Rachel rose, going to Brian, still at the kitchen table,"Mr. Sullivan, I need you upstairs now."
"But-"
"Now," her tone brooked no further argument but raised eyebrows.
Garcia was on her way into the house now, gun drawn. "Seen anything?"
"No. Not yet."
Graham was sitting calmly at his desk, eyes glancing up, unsurprised at their bursting in. His secretary tailing uselessly behind them, "I'm sorry, sir."
"Its fine, Mandy," he said in his best fish expression. "Gentlemen. It's usually customary among... people to knock."
Tim was not in a "knocking on doors" mood. "Knocking on people," on the other hand...
He was over the desk before either Q or Raylan could stop him. "Call it off," he growled, overpriced shirt-and-tie in his fist.
"Call what off, Deputy," he asked with distracting calmness from the floor.
Raylan circled the desk to see Tim, expressionless with rage, and Graham, almost smug. "Tim," he warned.
"I got this, Raylan," he replied conversationally.
Q was behind Raylan when he looked over, offering, "There's a lot of cameras and the like around here, man."
"You do still work for me, Mr. Quinton. I'd hope you would enjoy your position enough to want to keep it," Graham's eyes never left Tim's.
"Call it off, old man," Tim whispered.
"Prove I know what you're talking about," Graham whispered back.
Tim reached back to take a swing, and his and Raylan's phones rang.
Raylan took the call as Q stepped closer to Graham, "Where's Pete?"
"Mr. Walker took the afternoon off. I trust I'll be released soon, Deputy Gutterson?"
Tim still had his hand back when Raylan said, "We've got to the safe house. Now." Raylan leant over Graham's still prone body as Q pulled back, presumably to call his man. "If something happened, either to his girl or those kids, know we will be back. And we will not care about 'cameras and the like'. Am I clear?"