"So, he just sat there, he didn't move, we had to pull him out of his chair to get the cuffs on him," Lessing said with a snort. "It's like he didn't believe we had actually figured it out. What, do they think we're morons or something? Thanks." He took the bottle of beer that Steve held out towards him.
Lessing was sitting in the armchair, Tanner on its arm. Mike and Haseejian were on the couch and Healey on one of the kitchen chairs that had been moved into the living room. Steve made the rounds with the beer bottles then went back into the kitchen for a glass of ginger ale for Mike and a glass of milk for himself.
Haseejian took a long draft then flopped his head back on the couch and sighed loudly. "It really came together smoothly, but gosh, I'm tired. Trying to keep things straight and get it all out in a … a… what's the word I'm looking for? Comprehensive! A comprehensive manner. God, that's a lot of work."
"Well, Gerry was impressed, I can tell ya," Tanner offered, holding his bottle up in a toast. "We're gonna go see him tomorrow but he already told us he's willing to take this to the Grand Jury asap."
"Well, I'm proud of all of you," said Mike, raising his ginger ale glass up as well. "Just wish I could've been there to see it."
"Me too," echoed Steve from the chair beside Healey, raising his milk glass.
"Thanks, guys," nodded Healey, "it sounds like you did a great job. I just wish we could've nailed 'Mrs. Garrity'. That Madsen dame, wow, she's a piece of work. I am almost positive she's the brains, if you can call it that, behind all this; her brother isn't dumb but I don't think he's got the wherewithal to finesse something like this. I'd bet my pension she's the one. But we can't touch her." He shrugged, then shook his head and snapped himself out of his funk. "But right now," he said energetically, standing up and taking off his jacket, "Bill, you and I have to get to work."
Tanner looked up with a frown. "Work? What are you talking about?"
Healey just grinned. "Lee, call your wife and tell her you aren't coming home for dinner. Bill, you too. Norm … nothing…" he laughed. "When Norm called to tell me you guys were done and how well it went, I went out and bought us all steaks and baked potatoes and beer, so Bill, you and I are gonna cook for everybody tonight – on me!"
Tanner got up, turning to Lessing with a 'Why me?' expression. Lessing laughed, shaking his head.
"You guys just sit here and talk amongst yourselves," Healey said as he and Tanner disappeared into the kitchen.
"Leave my kitchen in one piece!" Steve called after them.
# # # # #
"Make sure to cut your steak up really small, you're not supposed to be eating something this…firm yet," Mike instructed as Healey came to the table with the stack of rare steaks on a large plate.
Steve rolled his eyes as he stabbed the steak on top and dropped it onto his plate. "Yes, Mom," he simpered and averted his gaze when Mike turned a frosty stare his way.
"And don't think I didn't notice that beer bottle from earlier, either."
The others chuckled quietly as Lessing came up behind Mike and Steve with the plate of baked potatoes. Putting the plate down and stepping back, he pointed from Mike to Steve and mouthed, 'Pot….kettle…black!', finishing with his arms outstretched.
Total suppression was not possible, but Haseejian did his best to cover his outburst with a cough, Tanner got up from the table quickly, and Healey turned away and went back to the counter, doubling over and silently shaking. Both Mike and Steve looked at their colleagues in confusion, prompting even more laughter.
Finally all settled around the table, talk turned to the Giants and the A's, and temporarily at least, thoughts of their most recent ordeal faded into the background.
Dinner finished, lingering over cups of coffee, Mike noticed that Healey had pulled his chair back from the table and was sitting quietly, stirring his coffee, his eyes far away. Mike turned his chair slightly to face him better. "What's on your mind, Dan?"
Startled, Healey looked up and smiled almost guiltily. "Ah, nothing. I was just thinking…"
"About the case?"
"Yeah. There's something…" He let the sentence hang.
"What?" Haseejian prompted after several silent seconds.
Healey looked up. "I think we're missing something."
Everyone's head moved slightly in surprise. "What do you mean?" Tanner asked.
Healey shook his head, taking a deep breath. "I, ah, I can't put my finger on it, but I just think we've, I've overlooked something. I have no idea what … But…" He looked at his boss. "Mike, you're always telling us to go with our gut, right?"
The older man nodded.
"Well, I know I'm the one that put all this together, with you guys of course, but I've been really living with this for the past couple of weeks and I know it inside and out, and… my gut is telling me we don't have everything right now. There's something we're missing and I've got a feeling that it's gonna come back to bite us on the ass really bad."
Mike, his brow furrowed, looked at his other sergeant. "Norm..?"
Haseejian glanced at Mike then looked at his partner once more. "Dan, what are you thinking?"
Healey sat back and smiled sadly. "Nothing, nothing," he said quickly, shaking his head. "I'm just being paranoid, that's all. We got him – it was Colin Madsen, right? We got him."
Mike nodded slowly, still frowning, his eyes not leaving Healey. The others followed suit.
"You got him, Dan," Tanner said with an encouraging smile.
Steve approached Healey with the coffee pot. "More coffee?" he asked, and he refilled the cup when Healey held it up.
# # # # #
Steve opened the front door and started down the steps, car keys in hand. He had just reached the Porsche when Mike stuck his head out the door. "Mortadella," the older man said loudly, "we forgot mortadella. Get about a quarter pound. And the good stuff, the Italian stuff, right?"
Grinning, Steve nodded as he got into the car. Mike watched as the Porsche headed off up the block and around the corner, then he shut the door and walked back into the kitchen. He was starting to feel better and found that his stamina was improving, though his chest was still tender and he knew he had to be careful about over-exerting his heart.
He turned on the tap to fill the sink when he heard the doorbell ring. Turning the tap off, he crossed slowly back into the living room and opened the door. A good-looking well-built young man stood on the stoop, his wide smile disappearing somewhat when his eyes fell on Mike. "Oh," he said in surprise, "hi, I'm looking for Steven Keller?"
Mike smiled. "You've got the right place. He lives here. I'm staying with him right now. I'm afraid he's gone out for a bit. Is there anything I can do for you?"
The young man held out his hand. "Ian. My older brother Peter was a classmate of his at Berkeley years ago. Peter told me that if I was ever in San Francisco I should look Steve up and say hi, they were good friends."
Mike's smile got wider and he stepped back to let the younger man enter the house.
"Well, come on in, Ian. I'm Mike. Steve's a cop now and I'm his partner." Mike shut the door. "He should be back in a little bit. I just put on a fresh pot of coffee. Care to have a cup and wait for him?"
Ian grinned happily. "That sounds great, thanks a lot."
Mike led the way into the kitchen. "Where's your brother living now?" he asked, not noticing the younger man 's quick glance around the living room, hesitating only briefly to pick up one of the bed pillows on the end of the couch.
"Oh, ah, I'm not sure," Ian said vaguely as he followed the older man into the kitchen, his eyes riveted to the back of Mike's head, watching his every move.
Without turning back, Mike crossed to the cupboards and opened an upper one, reaching for a mug. "Steve always has good things to say about his time at Berkeley. What did your brother –?" He glanced towards his guest and froze, the mug halfway to the counter, as he noticed the pillow in Ian's arms, now pressed against his chest.
"Put the cup down," Ian ordered, his voice low and flat. Mike did so and turned slowly towards the younger man, who was grinning coldly. "I'm sorry, we seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot. I didn't introduce myself properly, Lieutenant Stone. My name is Conor Ian Madsen and Patrick Garrity was my father."
Mike swallowed heavily, his eyes flicking past Madsen to the living room.
Madsen noticed the movement but declined to comment. "Yeah, there was no love lost between Daddy and me. That was my older brother's flaw. Andy idolized that…piece of trash that spawned us. I had no such delusions. I knew he was a loser from the second I could string two words together."
"What do you want?" Mike asked calmly.
"Oh, I think you've figured that out by now." He took a step forward and, almost involuntarily, Mike took a half-step back, but his eyes never left the younger man's.
"One way or another over the years, inadvertently or not, you've single-handedly destroyed my family, Mike," he said the name disdainfully. "The family's pretty much gone now – my father's dead, my brother and my uncle are going to prison, my mom's already back in Ireland, and I'll be there soon too." He chuckled as he took another step closer; this time Mike held his ground.
"I can tell you this because, let's face it, you're not going to be able to tell anybody, right? I mean, I know all about your 'health problems' right now. I know that with one well-positioned punch right over your heart, I can take you down, permanently. That's all it'll take, and I won't even have to break a sweat." He shifted the pillow into one hand as he took another step forward.
Moving with incredible speed, he grabbed Mike's shirt and spun the older man around, slamming him into the fridge. The impact was jarring and Mike gasped in pain. With his left hand around Mike's throat, pinning him to the fridge, he raised the pillow and placed it over Mike's chest, slipping the pillowcase end under his left hand, leaving the pillow dangling.
He looked deep into Mike's wide eyes and leaned forward slightly. "I don't want to leave any kind of handprints or knuckleprints, you know? Those guys in the lab, I know just how good they can be." With a contemptuous grin, he took a step back to the full extent of his outstretched arm, balled his right hand into a fist and cocked his arm.