Cujo III – Reloaded – This Time It's Personal
Chapter 32
Here's the next one. A big thank you to all those who took the time to comment on that last chapter. Even though I wasn't all that happy with it and went back to try to fix a couple things, I sincerely appreciate the kind words.
Imaginary Beta has a bad cold and is too doped up on Nyquil to be of much help. Please cut her some slack.
Disclaimer: There is no monetary reward for writing this story. I take inspiration from the ninja cats. All that really matters is a nice, warm, keyboard or lap to curl up on and food when I demand it at any hour of day or night. Bonus points for ice cream.
*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*
The Fondest of Memories
It was good to be here. His human was happy to see him and he was happy to see his human. He felt a bit funny though. Maybe he shouldn't have lapped up that stuff on the table. He snuggled down into the fluffy soft thing on the sleeping place. The one that smelled so comfortably familiar – his own smell mixed with his human's and his human's female. This was where he usually slept when the female wasn't here. It felt so good. He was really, really, sleepy right now. He didn't even remember his human carrying him up here and putting him on the soft thing.
He could hear the loud man from the room below; the sound coming from where the food was kept in the big, cold, box. The loud man wasn't even so annoying right now. He'd maybe even purred at him. That wasn't right. He'd have to fix it later.
…..
"So, I called the emergency vet and they said alcohol's really not good for them and can actually be lethal if they ingest enough of it but not to worry too much about the beer thing. The alcohol content isn't that high in beer and as long as he didn't lap up too much he should be okay. I think we stopped him in time but I'll keep an eye on him tonight. I think it made him sleepy."
"How the hell can you tell with a cat? They pretty much sleep all the time anyway." observed the blonde detective as he fetched himself another Longboard from the fridge after mopping up both his partner and the kitchen floor.
Steve smiled at the remark. Cujo could snooze almost anywhere. The SEAL was aware the cat even slept in the frying pan that sometimes rested atop the stove. The OCD man had thought it borderline gross but he couldn't break him of the habit.
At H.Q. it wasn't unusual to find him curled up in an 'In' or an 'Out' basket on anyone's desk – even Danny's. They had to be careful not to close him up in a file drawer . . . again. One time they'd discovered him on top of the copier while it was running off a couple reams of double-sided copies. The movement of the machine and the fact that he was about to be buried under an avalanche of paper didn't seem to faze the animal. He'd discovered a nice warm place to nap.
"I can't imagine that beer and cats, especially that cat, is a good mix. You think it will be like when someone who's already an asshole to begin with gets a snoot full and starts a bar fight?" asked Danny, mostly to get a rise out of 'the cat lady'.
"You calling Cujo an asshole?"
"You know very well I've called him worse but in good conscience, I can't really bag on him right now. He umm, actually did sort of come to my rescue." admitted the detective
"Yeah, you didn't really tell me about what happened." smiled Steve as he took another sip of water and waited for Danny to elaborate. "Did Cujo really kick Mickey's ass?"
"Pretty much turned him into minced meat. I know the jerk won't mess with either of us for awhile. Your wolverine managed to chew him up pretty good. It took a few stitches and about a mile of gauze and tape to patch up that prime example of the world's most obnoxious assholes." said Danny, while smiling in fond remembrance.
"Way to go Cujo." laughed Steve
"I also know that Mickey won't mouth off to a nurse again either. At least not one that has the power to select the biggest needle she could find to give him a tetanus shot."
Steve laughed a little softer at that. He knew a thing or two about pissing off nurses with needles. It didn't usually work out all that well for the patient. Bambi had made her point.
"Is Mickey gonna report this?" he asked as he took another sip of water, regretting that only Danny and Cujo had gotten to enjoy the ass-kicking and the post-battle beer.
"No. It wouldn't do much for his reputation, the one he thinks is so dazzling, to admit he got trashed by a pussy cat. Certainly isn't going to enhance it." laughed Danny, as he took a long pull from his replacement Longboard.
McGarrett stretching his aching leg out to rest on a chair he'd pulled away from the table smiled as he said with a small chuckle, "Sounds like a wise decision. I'm sure you had nothing to do with it, right?"
"Actually Phil, his partner, took me aside while Mickey was howling about his wounds and the horror of it all and told me he was going to write a factual report of what happened. It won't make me look all that good because I was the one who lost it and threw the first punch but Mickey whacked me on the side of the head with one of those big flashlights before Cujo galloped in like the cavalry."
"Sorry about the 'owie' as you call them. Now we sort of match." smiled Steve, referring to his own battered head. He'd actually been about to get rid of the big Bandaid. It was soaked with beer now anyway.
"At least I didn't let them scalp me to put in a couple stitches. You probably even think it's a good look on you don't you?"
"Wouldn't be the first time. I also don't belong to the hair gel of the month club." smiled Steve, "You do everything but set it on rollers like Cath does sometimes before she goes to bed."
Danny was used to the remarks about his carefully styled hair from his fashion-challenged partner. He didn't even skip a beat before stating, "Even if the aforementioned pussy cat is the Spawn of Satan, Brotman and I agreed to keep this just between Five-0 and the people involved. He said it wouldn't be any problem to convince Mickey to not file any charges. Said he was still trying to live down Cujo's escape from custody. Apparently the guys at the cop house haven't let up yet and Mickey certainly wouldn't want to add to it."
Steve chuckled again. At least Danny and Cujo seem to have made a truce. He'd already noticed earlier that neither seemed particularly ready to revert back to their usual method of 'communication' meaning Danny bitched about the 'furry piranha' and the piranha did his best to give him something to bitch about. They'd apparently come together in a common cause: Kicking Mickey Kilkenny's butt all the way to Cleveland.
"So, have you thought any more about what I need to do to get back at Angie?" asked Steve
"Not a smart move Rambo. You are gonna be playing with fire. If you piss off that woman, I'm not gonna rescue your ass. She's lethal."
"Oh, come on Danny." smiled Steve, "I admit you guys are way better at this kind of stuff than I am. I need your help."
"No." said Danny firmly. "I'm not going to be a party to your massacre. It would be too messy and I don't wanna have to clean up all that gore. Besides," added the detective, "we need you back at work; not six feet under - you've already tried that. "
Snorted Steve in dismissal of Danny's remark about an unplanned burial and ignoring the warning of Angie's deadly nature, "Oh come on. She can't be that bad."
"Wanna bet?"
...
In his dream he once again tasted the blood of the enemy. It was good.
The loud man had been hit on the head with the big stick and the enemy was closing in for the kill. If he wanted him killed he'd do it himself but this man couldn't have him. The loud man is his.
He pushed with all his might on the thing that kept him inside the rolling box and with a loud cry, launched himself at the man with the stick. His teeth found their mark and the man screamed. The stick was dropped and rolled away on the ground.
He clawed his way up the arm and then switched places and aimed for the kill bite on the man's neck. He was just about to sink his fangs deeper into his target when hands grabbed him and tried to pull him off. He wouldn't let that happen. The enemy had hurt something that was his!
The hands only managed to pull him loose but not pick him up. He clawed his way downward and the man screamed louder as he sank his claws into the place between his legs. This time, the enemy almost pulled him loose but he clawed his way further downward and clinging with all four feet to the man's leg, he sank in his teeth there too. The enemy screamed again then he heard more of the words that he'd heard before – usually from the loud man. It didn't matter. The enemy had to die!
As even more hands grabbed at him to pull him off the leg he clung to; before he knew it, he'd been stuffed into the cloth bag. He hated the bag and protested loudly. It meant he was going to the place with dogs and the things that bit his skin like fleas.
At least he'd made his marks. There was a lot of blood so perhaps the enemy would die anyway. That would be good. Maybe the loud man would be pleased and give him little fishes.
In his dream, he lapped at the blood that stained his fur . . . and it tasted good.
With Danny finally having gone home; Steve had gone to bed. It was now a little after three A.M. Tomorrow, (make that later today), he hoped to get a ride to work. At least he could do some of the dreaded paperwork. He was frustrated beyond measure at not being in on the action.
Before he turned out the light, he looked over at the little animal that was obviously dreaming as it lay sleeping on the pillow next to his head. Cujo's paws and whiskers twitched in rapid little movements as he issued short little meows. He wondered if the cat was chasing mice in his dreams. Maybe he's drinking milk, he thought as the little pink tongue began to lap at something in the dream. He couldn't help thinking that when he slept, Cujo looked like a soft and cuddly little teddy-bear with a long tail.
"Sweet dreams cat." The tall man whispered with a smile as he turned out the lamp and settled himself into the covers.
...
Coming in extra early again, she'd searched every inch of the office and come up with nothing. Slamming her hand onto her desk in frustration, she all but threw herself into her chair.
Chin had arrived at his usual hour and observing his cousin's behavior through the glass walls of her office came over to see what the unusual display of temper was about.
"Hey cuz, what's going on? You're looking pretty annoyed. Something wrong?" he asked as he ambled into her office to lean against the credenza against the outer wall.
"Uhh, no. Nothing. Why?" asked Kono, swiveling her chair to face him, hoping her response was convincing but knowing in her heart her cousin knew her too well to buy it.
"Kono" began the Hawaiian detective eyes all but twinkling, "You haven't been able to get one past me since you were six and stole that Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles lunch box from one of your classmates. What's going on?"
"Hey! I traded fair and square for that! I can't help it if the kid thought a dead lizard was a good trade for a lunchbox." defended Kono as she looked back at her amused cousin.
One eyebrow raised, Chin just stood there looking at her – and waiting.
She bit her lips as she pondered whether to come clean or not. Dammit, he always could make her spill just by giving her that look.
She tried not to squirm under his scrutiny as she mulled it over.
Well, after all, they are relatives and Chin pretty much knows everything about her already. Sure, she had her secrets but nothing too bad . . . well except for that time she'd 'borrowed' his ride but hey, she replaced the gas before she'd parked it back in his garage. He'd never known his fourteen-year-old cousin had gone to the mall with a carload of screaming teenagers in it, (and never would if she could help it).
"Look cuz, if I tell you, you can't EVER tell anyone else. Not Mom or Dad or any cousin, aunt, uncle, and especially not Danny or the boss. Right?"
"Yeah sure. You have my word but what could be so disturbing?"
"Remember that guy I used to date; the one you guys practically got into a pissing contest with at New Year's before you put him in jail?"
"Yeah, of course. I remember he was so smooth and slick you had no way of knowing how evil he was until that night. Wait! Did he get out of jail? Did you do something to him?" asked Chin wondering if he was going to have to deny knowing about a body or two.
"What?! No! Of course not!" she squeaked; her voice rising at least an octave, "but . . . ummm. . . before I found out what an evil asshole he was I umm . . . did something for him that I probably shouldn't have."
Chin stared at her afraid to ask what it may have been and wondering again if it was something he'd have to eventually testify in court about.
"Don't look at me that way. It's not like I murdered anyone or anything." declared his cousin defensively
"Good to know." he smiled in relief
…
The day had dawned as it usually did and even if he hated the hour, he smiled at the remembrance of the previous night's activities. He'd come in an hour earlier than usual to begin his day without the annoyance of having to listen to Mickey bitch about his injuries. It was worth getting only about four hours of sleep if he didn't have to listen to the man. If he was lucky, Mickey wouldn't even come in today. Maybe he'd stay home to nurse his cat bites and his pride.
Brotman sat hunched over his keyboard as he again went over the files on the murders. He tapped his way through the information in HPD's data base. So far, there wasn't anything he could latch onto. Huffing in frustration, he gave up and went back to finishing up the accident report from a few days ago. His boss was pressing him for the paperwork.
He'd copied and pasted 'blue Prius hybrid' what seemed a hundred-and-one times into the spaces on the form. It still stung that he'd been taken out of the chase by collision with a damned car the size of a matchbox. Growling in frustration and putting its completion off once again, he went back to his search through the murder files.
He distractedly clicked on HPD's file search window and then absentmindedly pasted in the last thing he'd copied and hit enter. Realizing his mistake too late he muttered "Damned computers."
A law enforcement officer of way more years than he cared to remember; he'd started his career during a time when paper and pencil were the instruments used in record keeping and had yet to admit that computers made his life easier.
He felt that, sometimes, the infernal devices only complicated things. They could make minor errors monumental ones. He knew that poor guy in Vice would never again upload a picture of himself dressed in undercover drag and accidentally send it to every cop on the force. The guy was never going to live it down and it would be out there in cyberspace forever. He was just glad he himself was now too old to look credible in fishnets and with so many women now able to join the 'brothers in blue' it wasn't even required much anymore for guys to dress up like hookers. The younger women must hate to come to work during those assignments. Spending a night in stiletto heels and a bustier to be dangled like shark bait was torture. He did have memories of an earlier time – a much earlier time.
Cursing at his mental lapse, Brotman waited for the search request to complete before he could put in the correct one. The damned computer was going to pull up any report that ever contained the words 'blue Prius hybrid'.
The most recent one that popped up before him was an incident report on what had occurred a few nights before the last murders. His brow furrowed even more deeply as he read it. A blue Prius hybrid had been seen driving away from a place that overlooked the murder scene at the business park in the pre-dawn hours before the murders had been discovered.
On a hunch, he went back to his incomplete report on the accident to up the information on the now deceased driver one Andrew Timmons.
...
"So, you never actually sent these photos to him?" asked Chin trying to decide whether to be amused or appalled at his cousin's error in judgment.
"No, we'd caught onto him right before I could get one printed and framed." Kono admitted as she looked down at her blotter in embarrassment.
"Thank the gods for that." smiled Chin, now feeling sorry for his younger cousin. She hadn't known what scum she'd hooked up with until Tim Grayson had been exposed as an importer of illegal wildlife who'd been behind a plot to assassinate pretty much every bigwig in the islands in one fell swoop at the Governor's New Year's Eve gala.
"I kept the thumb drive thinking maybe, someday, I'd find a guy worth the trouble." She shamedly admitted; her tan complexion acquiring an extra layer of color.
Clearing his throat in discomfort, Chin asked, "So this boudoir photography studio; exactly how legit is this thing and how explicit are the photos?"
Kono, cheeks reddening even further, replied, "Nothing hard-core if that's what you're thinking." she blurted.
"Kono!" said Chin, "If I was thinking that, I'd have to wash my brain out with soap! That's just wrong cuz! I'm not going there!"
"Oh, come on, you're a guy. All guys go there." she answered now trying to keep the smirk off her face at her cousin's own darkening blush.
Just then the phone rang. It was Phil Brotman.
*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0* Hawaii 5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*5-0*
NOTE: Do you guys think Steve and Danny should try to get back at Angie or should it end here? Let me know what you think. Am on the fence about it.