Just a brief note to those who are new to this story and wonder where Rolf Sondergaard of Interpol and Michaela Petersen come from, as well as the incident that triggered the argument with Fran and Ed. It's from my earlier work, Coffee. Jo
Innocent Man
Rickey Welles sat in the back of the restaurant drinking a Coors. From time to time, he glanced at the Denver Post he brought with him while he waited for his dinner. The waiter arrived with a platter of well-done T-bone, mashed potatoes, gravy, and green beans. He put it down on the table in front of Welles, along with a bread basket and salad.
"Another beer, sir?"
"Yeah, he pointed at the stubby keg-shaped bottle. "and ketchup, Heinz ketchup."
The waiter left to fetch the requested items.
Rickey sliced a piece off of his steak, doused it in the puddle of tomato he poured on the plate, then forked it into his mouth, followed by a dripping bite of potato, gravy, and beans. He ate mechanically like that. He'd learned that in Q if you wanted to get the calories in, you ate quickly, then when you got your coffee, you could talk. When he finished, there was only a bone left on his plate. When he looked at the paper, he saw a picture of a woman next to the headline: 'Denver Police Seek Information in LoDo Murder.' She looked familiar. He skimmed the article. The murdered woman was Owen Fisette's secretary, the one who gave him the fisheye the other night.
"DAMMIT!" Rickey pounded the table, breaking the quiet of Monday evening diners.
"Sir?" the waiter asked, rushing over. "Is everything ok?"
Welles threw a fifty-dollar bill on the table, tucked the paper under his arm, leaving the restaurant as quickly as he could, all the time cursing Fisette. He murdered his secretary for some stupid ass reason and now was going to pin it on him. What kind of moron was the councilman? He slowed down. No, he was going to blame it on Nate Franklin. Still too close. Getting in his car, he drove to a nearby park. He got out and breathed in the cool mountain air, slowed down, and re-read the article. Thinking for a while, he made his decision. He got back in the car and headed for downtown Denver.
In the coroner's office, Mason Dickson was ready to power down his computer for the day when it gave a soft ping. He opened his email. Reading it, he smiled. Making a copy of it, he called the police chief's office. Ed Brown would be very interested in this email.
Ed Brown watched the sun setting from his 13th-floor office. He hated coming home so late, but now on top of everything else, there was Eleanor Bron's murder to solve. Today had been busy. Late this afternoon, he received witness statements from the host and server at Vitelli's. They had been off Sunday and, on Monday, were horrified to discover that one of their customers had been murdered. They gave detailed descriptions of the behavior of the couple Saturday night. He took his coat off the hanger and shrugged it on. He had just reached the outer door when Mase Dicksen hurried in.
"I was afraid...I was going to miss you." he panted, "Got this a half hour ago from CODUS, the DNA bank."
Ed sat his coroner into a nearby chair.
"We know who her killer is."
Ed took the proffered paper scanning it quickly. "Thank you, Mase. Thanks for staying on this."
"She didn't fight him, Ed, not with all the booze and GHB in her, but he kissed her, and she gave us his DNA."
Brown pulled out his phone and dialed. "This is Chief Brown. I want an APB out on Saul Rogers. Last known address is the Le Meridien Hotel in town. Consider him armed and extremely dangerous. If anyone comes across him, they're not to contact him directly. Keep him under surveillance and notify me immediately. Repeat. Surveil, but do not approach."
Ending the call, Ed dialed again. "Chief? We need to pay a visit to Eddie Rogers tonight. Actually, we need to talk to Saul. Creep obligingly left his DNA with Eleanor Bron. Meet me out front, and we'll go over together. Half an hour? See you then.
He took the elevator down to the lobby with Mason Dickson, escorting the doctor to his car. The sun dropped quickly in Denver. The garage got dark easily, even with all the fluorescent lights. Getting back in the elevator. he took it to the basement, where his truck was. The truck chirped as it unlocked. He grasped the door handle when he felt something poke him in the back.
"Don't turn around, Brown," a voice growled. "I might get nervous and shoot you in the back like I did in LA all those years ago."
Ed felt stupid about being caught as easily as he was, then did the math to figure out who he was talking to. LA. Getting shot. The Craig Institute. Rickey Welles.
"The reason I'm not putting another bullet in you now is I want you to know Nate Franklin didn't murder Fisette's secretary. I know this because I'm Nate Franklin, or rather was him. I was thinking about killing her, but the councilman musta got to it before I did. The secretary was pretty nosy, and Fisette is pretty nervous about something if he killed his right-hand woman. I'm here to take a kid back to the coast, and I have a contract on both you and your lovely wife. Stay outta my way. The next time we meet, I'm not gonna be as nice."
Ed began a spin to catch Welles off guard. He felt something hard come down on the back of his head; the lights around him exploded into a brilliant bright white firework. Then it was dark.
When he woke, someone had turned the lights back on, but he wasn't where he fell down. He tried to move; there was a tube in his nose and lines running into a vein in his right arm. Damn, he had vowed to stay out of Denver ERs unless he was visiting someone. He looked into a pair of moisture-laden but deep blue eyes belonging to only one person.
"Welcome back."
"Sorry if I scared you.
"You did," Fran said softly. "I'll read you the riot act later."
Ed nodded gently, trying to avoid the drums he knew were hiding in his brain. He closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, he was in a private room; from the appearance, it was a VIP room. Fran was curled in an armchair next to a large window sleeping. He was pretty sure she hadn't slept much during the night.
"Good morning," the chief said.
"Ow, yeah, good morning". He looked to see Ironside next to him. "You think I can get a cup of coffee and an aspirin?"
Ironside rang for the nurse, and moments later, a nurse assistant brought him a large cup of coffee and two Tylenol. She quickly took his vitals, recorded them, watched him take the Tylenol, made another recording, and left.
Brown drained his coffee. The caffeine moved through his head, helping the pain.
"What do you remember?"
Ed sighed, much preferring to watch his wife sleep in the chair across the room than talk to Ironside.
"I was getting ready to go home when Mase Dickson, the coroner, called me. He'd gotten a match from CODUS and came over with the report. I read it, stuck it in my pocket, put out an APB, called you, and made sure he got to his car ok. Check my coat pocket, will you?
Ironside went to the closet and checked Ed's pockets.
"Empty"
"Damn. He took it."
"Who took what?"
"The CODUS report. Eleanor Bron got her killer's DNA. Mason found it in the tissue samples."
"I'm not concerned about what CODUS says. I'm more concerned with who attacked you in the garage." Fran's voice was urgent. She uncurled herself from the chair and came over to the bed.
"I know who it was."
"You do?"
"It was the councilman's last visitor Thursday night, Nate Franklin, who's really Rickey Welles."
Fran's dropped into the bedside chair. "Rickey Welles," she whispered. Unbidden, her mind brought up the memories of the five days when no one knew if Ed was going to walk again after being shot by Welles.
"He didn't kill Eleanor Bron. Welles told me that in the garage. He did tell me he was taking Catalina to the coast." Ed said
"To Pepe Alvarado, no doubt." the Chief said.
"And Fran and I are standing in his way."
"Most likely because he knows Catalina can recognize her parent's killers, and he suspects you found Catalina, and she's talked to both of you," Ironside said. "Then there's the matter of the Lorca Valdez Shipment. Pete Montez was supposed to know where 4.8 million dollars was. That's why he was murdered. Someone stole it and pinned it on Pete."
"Pete and Gabriella were murdered because whoever took the money needs it now," Fran said.
Jerry Abbey and Sam MacAllister entered the room. Jerry's face was taut, holding back his anger at his boss being injured.
"Sergeant Abbey. Chief MacAllister. Just the two people I was hoping would show up." Ironside said. "Ed is going to take a few days off, doctor's orders, and I need to meet with Eddie Rogers. Sam, would you give me a ride to the hotel?"
"Certainly, Chief."
"Sergeant Abbey. Your boss is a horrible patient. He'll be working on getting out of here as soon as possible. He'll succeed." He pointed at Fran. "She will help him do it. Make sure he gets home. Her too. Make sure he stays there for the next forty-eight hours."
"I don't need a nanny," Ed said angrily.
"You were attacked by a man who tried to kill you before and damn near succeeded," Fran said, throwing looks like daggers at her husband.
Ed raised himself up in the bed. " And you are still recovering from being thrown down the stairs of the Albertina last summer by a dirty Interpol agent because you wanted to play cop."
His wife's face turned bright red. "That's a cheap shot, Ed". Her voice was shaky. "I was not playing cop that night. I didn't know Rolf Sondergaard was dirty, and I saw you, the man I loved, my fiance, get shot in front of me. You were bleeding from the chest. No one told me you had a Kevlar vest and fake blood. I thought you were dying." She shot an angry look at Ironside as well. "You, the Chief, Eve, Mark, you all knew and did nothing to stop me."
"Let's go, Sam. You'll like Eddie, and I want your thoughts about his nephew Saul as well. We'll leave Ed and Fran alone," Ironside said, knowing that he would have to talk with Fran soon and apologize for having done exactly that.
Mac pushed him out of the room.
Jerry left, too, leaving Ed and Fran alone in the room. Fran walked to the window and looked out at the view. There was an icy silence. Both knew they'd gone over lines. They were quiet for a time. Then Fran turned towards him.
"I'm sorry," they chorused.
"You first."
"Can we get some coffee for both of us?"
Fran went to the door and spoke to Jerry. He returned shortly with a thermos of coffee, a container of milk, sugar, and cups. He silently put them on the bed table and left.
Fran poured. They drank, then Ed said
"I'm sorry. I know you didn't play cop. You wanted to get the person who shot me. None of us knew Rolf was dirty until after he shot Michaela Petersen. I'm just very angry that Rickey found me as easily as he did.
Fran put her coffee down and sat on the edge of the bed. "It's hard talking about the time you were at the Craig Institute. I want you to know that the one time I had a chance to get Welles in the hospital, he got away from me and from Mark too. That's when his partner fell over the railings. Something snapped inside when I saw what happened to him; 'God forgive me for what I'm thinking now', I said. I'd go to the hospital chapel and tell God what I would do if I got Rickey Welles alone. I would kill him. He'd hurt my family. He hurt you, and I vowed I'd make him pay, even if I had to leave the force, go to prison, and when I died, go to Hell, but that was ok because I would have gotten revenge for what he did to you." She took a sip of coffee. "It's when I knew my feelings for you changed. My feelings for him haven't changed. If I see him, I will kill him. He will not hurt you again. He will not take Catalina."
Ed took his wife's hand and pulled her into a tight hug. " We'll keep Cat safe. Now can I change the subject? Patrice says you'd been target shooting again."
"Every day in the west field. The cows aren't amused, but I do it. I may need to do it." She gave him a tearful look, and Ed drew her onto the bed with him.
" I hate these calls, and you looked so awful when I saw you downstairs."
He brushed the hair out of her face and eyes. "I bet I did."
"So what's the next step?" she asked.
"We are going home as soon as possible. Then I've got a third killer I need to find out more about."
"The man who shot Cat's parents."
"Yeah. Now that we know Rickey Welles is after us and that somehow Owen Fisette has a connection to him. Mark can do some work from that end."
"Until then?"
"Gonna take a nap in your arms. See how long it'll take before the nursing staff boots you out of bed."
"You know, the last time we were like this, you proposed to me."
"Yep."
"I have a proposal for you."
"Ok".
"Ed Brown, will you be the father of our children."
"Sure" He had a puzzled look on his face.
"I'm pregnant. Our babies are due in April."
Ed's eyes widened, "twins?"
"Twins".