To be fair, Sharon hadn't expected things to really change at work. Still, she couldn't help feeling slightly exasperated when Brenda tried to pawn the mall case off on her. The look that the chief gave her when she said they'd take the case together caused a tendril of arousal to snake around the base of her spine, and she knew her arguments were no more good. She spun on her heel and stalked off to fetch the dash cam from the offending patrol car.
Brenda was hyperaware of Sharon's agitation as they sat across from Mr. Marku. She figured it was a combination of irritation at her, and also at the officers involved in the case. Apparently those interviews hadn't gone as well as she'd hoped. Selfishly, Brenda was kind of glad she was sticking around for a little bit. It was nice to have another person who wasn't wearing a santa hat or a dreadful holiday sweater. She turned her attention back to the victim.
"Why else besides a robbery would someone want to kill you over Christmas presents?" Brenda wondered if she'd missed something during her ruminations.
"Because he's Muslim." Marku replied.
"So…you recognized him?"
"Yes. He was my father." He looked down at the table as he answered.
Sharon's eyes went wide, before she schooled her expression, and jotted that little tidbit down in her notebook. She glanced surreptitiously at her watch. She might be able to leave in time to make her flight after all. But then Marku spoke again, in response to a question Brenda asked.
"It's a long story," He said, leaning back in his chair and placing his bandaged hand on the table, "Do you want the version which starts in the 14th century, or today?"
"In the interest of time, just go back as far as necessary, okay?" Sharon's voice was smooth, belying none of the tense energy Brenda could feel vibrating off of her.
As Armand Marku told his story, Sharon wondered if Brenda was thinking about her own parents, and how they might react. She saw Brenda's face fall in sympathy when the victim explained that his father had disowned him, declared him dead, even, because he'd fallen in love with a Christian woman. Zealotry came in all flavors, and Sharon dearly hoped Brenda's parents wouldn't fall under that unfortunate blanket. She blinked back the threat of tears when he mentioned dreaming of reuniting with his father. Her relationship with her own family was complicated, but her parents loved her, and she felt secure in that knowledge. The hardest parts were over with them. And even though her kids drove her crazy sometimes, she couldn't imagine them doing anything—anything!—to enrage her to the point of attempted murder. The whole situation was awful. Sharon did the only thing she could do for the man. She took copious notes.
Gabriel met them outside of the interview room, and Brenda gave him his orders, despite his brief temper fit. Sharon rolled her eyes. Italy was overrated anyway, and what was a grown man doing letting his parents take him anywhere? Honestly. She knew Brenda credited Gabriel with setting her on the right track in terms of their relationship, but Sharon found him tedious at best. Her phone chirped, and she tapped open the email from the airlines.
"They want $700 to change my flight. Can we move this along?" She directed her ire at Gabriel, who sheepishly took the notes she handed him, and went off with a pout.
Sanchez caught up with them as they walked down the hall, and Sharon barely stifled the snort of laughter at his ridiculous elf hat. How Major Crimes ever got anything done was a mystery tempered only by the brusque nature of their Chief.
"Here's the summary of the witness statements," He said, handing over a folder. "They all say the same thing: The old guy was trying to stab the younger guy when the police car ran him over."
"Thank you, Detective Sanchez." Brenda replied, and then looked up. "Nice hat." She turned to Sharon, and smiled. "See? Told you this wouldn't take more than 72 hours. Don't change your flight just yet."
"Oh, and Chief?" Sanchez called out over his shoulder. "Your parents are in the murder room."
"What?! Oh, for heaven's sake!" Brenda's face went ashen, and she abruptly switched directions.
"Chief!" Sharon called out, wondering how, exactly, they were supposed to play this. Brenda just kept walking. So Sharon took a deep breath, counted to 15 in French, and followed behind.
"Mama! Daddy!" Brenda hugged each of her parents in turn. "I'm so sorry I couldn't meet you at the airport like we planned, but you know how it is. I thought y'all were going to the house?" She dared a glance at Fritz, who looked pained, but gave her a rueful grin.
"Don't you even worry your pretty little head about it!" Clay smiled.
"That's right. Everyone here has made us feel right welcome!" Willie Rae chimed in.
Sharon stood just outside the family circle, uneasy without some guidance on how she was supposed to behave. She settled on consummately professional.
"Chief Johnson?"
Brenda looked over at her, and a faint pink tinge graced her cheeks.
"Oh, right. Mama, Daddy, this is my Captain Raydor." Brenda blinked twice at her parents, before her mistake registered. "I…I mean my, my friend. Captain Sharon." She resisted the urge to stomp her foot when Fritz cracked a smirk at her second misstep. She sighed. "I mean, my friend, Sharon Raydor." Her voice cracked just a little on the word friend.
Sharon had the grace to look horrified, and Brenda's cheeks were flaming. She fully expected her parents to demand the truth, after all, her ability to suss out a liar was genetic, but to her surprise, they were both smiling, despite looking a little gobsmacked. Clay broke the silence.
"Friend!" He boomed, shaking Sharon's hand enthusiastically. "We have been waiting to meet one of Brenda Leigh's friends since she graduated from high school!"
Sharon put her hand over his, to stop the excessive motion, and smiled weakly.
"Well. Here I am."
"Wait a minute, Clay." Willie Rae stepped closer, her eyes shrewd. "Did you say Captain? As in you work here?"
"Yes, that's right Mrs. Johnson." Sharon replied, shifting uncomfortably in her heels.
"I see." Willie Rae gave Clay a pointed look. "Her friend works here." She held out her hand to Sharon. "Please, call me Willie Rae. Any friend of Brenda's is a friend of mine."
"Okay, then…Willie Rae." Sharon smiled til her cheeks ached.
"Your parents have something to tell you, Brenda Leigh." Fritz cleared his throat, giving her a poisoned stare. "It's very exciting news." He clapped his hand on Clay's shoulder.
"Is that right? What is it?" Brenda kept a smile on her face, despite the overwhelming urge to grab Sharon's hand and run—or throw up.
Just then Gabriel barreled into to the murder room.
"Found the dad's place. It's just west of here. Who do you want to send?" He asked, breathlessly.
"FLYNN!" Came the choral reply of every elven Major Crimes employee.
"All right, Flynn, you and Detective Gabriel go see if you can find anything; a…a suicide note, or anything that might explain why he tried to stab his son to death." Brenda turned back to her parents, just as Sharon touched her arm. "Sorry, Mama, Daddy, but Captain Raydor…I mean, Sharon and I need to go…"
"That's all right, Brenda. You and your friend go ahead. Your mama and I will be just fine." Clay bussed her cheek.
"Y'all aren't irritated?"
"Not at all! We have all the time in the world to catch up!" Willie Rae kissed her other cheek, and patted her arm.
"Allll the time." Fritz intoned, giving Brenda another withering stare.
Brenda let Sharon pull her away, her head still reeling from that Twilight Zone encounter.