"So what about that, Bernie?" Mike asked with a nod in his partner's direction. "Who does use laudanum anymore?"

The coroner chuckled dryly. "Well, as far as I know, nobody. But then again, I'm not travelling in the hippest social circles anymore. That, gentlemen, I will leave for you to figure out."

Mike nodded sardonically. "Thanks." He glanced at Steve and smiled, shaking his head. "So what else can you tell us?"

"At this point, not much. I still have a lot of work to do but I'd peg the age at between twenty and forty right now, and he's probably Caucasian but that could change too. And as for where he went into the water, your guess is as good as mine at this point."

Steve snorted a laugh; Mike raised his eyebrows. "Well, it's a little more than we had when we were standing on the boat. Thanks, Bernie."

"Anytime," the coroner said with a chuckle as he turned and left the office.

Laughing softly and shaking his head, Steve sat in the guest chair, patting down his tie as he reached for the report and slid it across the desk, turning it around as he did so. "So, where do you want to go from here?"

Mike sat back, dropping his hands into his lap and snorting. "Good question. We don't know who he is, we don't know when or how he died, we don't know where he went into the water and we don't even know if he's from The City. Where do we begin?"

"We've started with less than this before," Steve said encouragingly, flipping through the file.

"Oh really? When?" Mike shot back and the younger man looked up, pursing his lips, his stare unfocusing.

"You're right," he chuckled and Mike nodded emphatically, laughing softly.

"Look, ah, I still have to meet with John about the wrap-up on Conley – why don't you get in touch with Pete Chandler down in Missing Persons and see if you can match this," he pointed at the folder, "slim as it is, with anybody they have on file? And maybe expand it to the neighboring counties? Who knows? He could have gone into the water anywhere along the coast if he's been floating for two weeks."

Exhaling loudly, Steve started to get to his feet, snapping the folder closed. "I'll get in touch with the Harbor Master too, get his take on where he thinks this guy may have floated from."

"Good idea. Oh, and find out who's still selling laudanum too." Mike reached for the phone as the younger man started out of the office. "Good luck!"

# # # # #

The sun was starting to set when Steve hung up the phone, stood and, eyes on the notepad in his hand, crossed to the door of his partner's office. Mike looked up overtop of his reading glasses. "So?"

With a loud sigh, the younger man dropped heavily onto the guest chair and leaned back, crossing his legs. "I got bupkis. There's nobody in the Missing Persons files that even remotely resembles this guy, and nobody from Alemeda, Marin, Napa and Sonoma – I'm still waiting to hear from the others but I don't have my fingers crossed." With another sigh, he flipped back a few pages in his notebook while Mike waited patiently. "The Harbor Master was no help either – he said that the body could have floated in from anywhere if he was snagged that far off Land's End.

"And as for laudanum, there are a couple of pharmacies that carry it as a…tincture of opium… but you need a prescription to get it and nobody that I can find sells laudanum on its own. It stopped being a viable painkiller," he chuckled, making air quotes, "at the turn of the century." Blowing air between his lips, he snapped the notebook shut and looked at his partner, raising his eyebrows. "So, maybe he has been floating out there since the 1890's… god knows, the water can be cold enough, maybe he froze…."

Mike lowered his brow and stared at him evenly. "Go home. You're getting punch drunk."

Steve started to laugh and the older man joined him, rubbing a hand over his own tired eyes.

"We both need a good night's sleep. I tell you what, let me finish up this report and I'll get you to drive me home and neither one of us comes in till tomorrow afternoon. How does that sound?"

Stifling a yawn, Steve dragged himself to his feet. "I'm liking the sound of that very much." He held up his notebook. "What do you want me to do with this?"

"What can we do? Listen, just, ah, put that notebook in your top drawer so we don't forget it altogether, but unless Bernie comes up with something else or by some miracle a clue as to who this guy is drops into our laps, I don't think there's anything else we can do. Did you leave notice with the other jurisdictions about getting in touch with us if something comes up?"

"I did," Steve said from the doorway.

"Then we've done all we can for the poor bastard right now, don't you think?"

Nodding, Steve crossed slowly to his desk, opened the top side drawer and dropped the notebook in.

# # # # #

Mike opened the outer door to Homicide and held it after he passed through for Steve to follow. They both trudged towards the inner office, taking off their rain-sodden overcoats and shaking them out before hanging them on the metal coat rack just inside the door. Crossing slowly behind his desk, trying to work the kinks out of his stiff neck as he slipped the .38 off his belt and put it in the top drawer, Mike frowned at the unfamiliar file folder that was sitting atop the desk.

Reaching into his inner jacket pocket for his reading glasses, he slipped them on as he sat and opened the folder. Steve crossed back to the inner office door from his desk, holding up a phone message. "Irwin called, he's got a lead for us."

"That's nice," Mike mumbled absent-mindedly, his brow furrowed as he continued to read the file.

"What's that?"

"Hmmm?" Mike grunted, glancing up briefly and Steve nodded towards the folder.

"Oh, ah, it's the follow-up report from Bernie on that floater a couple of weeks back, remember?"

"The time traveler?"

Mike snorted, "Yeah, the time traveler." Steve laughed cheekily as he sat in the guest chair. "The body is Caucasian, the age is still somewhere between twenty and forty, the hair color is brown, as are the eyes. The teeth were all knocked out except for four and they don't have any distinguishing characteristics, so we're out of luck there. He's pretty sure the blow to the back of the head was incapacitating if not fatal but that can't be proven a hundred percent, and the arm and leg were most likely severed by a boat propeller, like he thought."

"Okay," Steve said slowly, " so nothing new there."

"Ah ah ah," Mike said with a chuckle, looking up and grinning, "Bernie wasn't finished – seems he saved the best for last. The toxicology report, for what it is, the body being so permeated with sea water, shows that there was a great deal of alcohol in his system – Bernie thinks whiskey or something similar – the laudanum… and absinthe." He looked slowly up at his partner, eyes wide with surprise.

"Absinthe? You're kidding," Steve said slowly, a smile building as he leaned forward. "This is getting really weird… I mean, absinthe? It's illegal, isn't it?"

"Yeah, since the 'teens, I think, just like laudanum."

They stared at each other for several long beats, both trying to work through the implications. Finally Mike looked back down at the file and squirmed slightly. "You know, you keep saying that maybe this guy's been in the water since the last century… maybe you're right…"

Steve chuckle was suddenly mirthless and the last vestiges of his smile disappeared. He cleared his throat. "So, ah, what do you want to do about him?"

"About who?" Mike asked, looking up again.

"About Mr. Laudanum."

Mike's features folded in confusion and Steve started to laugh.

"Well, we have to call him something," the younger man whined genially, throwing his hands up in a shrug.

Joining in the laughter, Mike shook his head and closed the file. "You got a point; we can't keep calling him The Floater." He sighed heavily. "Well, this is all fine and good," he raised the folder, "but it doesn't help us a helluva lot, does it?" He held the file out. "Put it in the drawer with your notebook, will ya, in case something else comes up."

Steve took the folder as he stood. "Sure. And I'll follow up on Irwin, see what he has for us."

As he left the room he heard Mike's gentle laughter. "Mr. Laudanum…"

# # # # #

Steve glanced at his watch, starting slightly. "Shit," he muttered under his breath as he tossed the pen onto the desk and looked towards the inner office. Mike was leaning over his desk, studying a large file.

The inspector got to his feet and approached the door, rolling his left sleeve down and buttoning the cuff. "Mike," he called sotto voce and the lieutenant looked up over the top of the black-rimmed glasses. "Listen, ah, I gotta date tonight, is it okay if I take off?"

Slowly, a broad grin building, Mike reached up and took the glasses off, leaning back in the chair and chuckling. "Oh, you do, do you? And what makes you think I'm gonna let you go early?"

"Early? It's six already, and I was in at seven with you, remember?"

Continuing to chuckle, Mike nodded, "Yeah, I remember. Do I know this one?"

Steve thought about it for a split second then grinned. "Ah, no – no, you don't know this one."

"I don't, hunh? Blonde, brunette –?"

"Redhead."

The older man's eyebrows shot up. "A redhead, hunh? Been awhile since you've dated a redhead…"

"What, are you keeping track?" Steve asked with a laugh as he stepped quickly back to his desk and snagged his jacket from the back of the chair and shrugging it on.

"Well, somebody has to," Mike chuckled affectionately. "So, what would you do if I said I had some phone calls for you to make?" he asked facetiously, awaiting the response he knew would be coming.

"I'd say you were crimping my style, Mike, seriously," he laughed as he lifted the almost dry beige raincoat from the coat rack and started to put it on.

"Get out of here!" Mike growled good-naturedly as he leaned over his desk again and put the glasses back on. "But don't forget what I always say, don't –"

"Come in with half-a-head tomorrow, I know, I know," Steve finished amiably as he adjusted the cuffs of the raincoat and turned toward the outer door. "I'll see ya tomorrow."

He had taken a couple of steps away when Mike's loud voice stopped him in his tracks.

"What did you say?!"

Confused, Steve turned and went back to the inner office door. Mike was staring at him with a furrowed brow. "I said I wouldn't come in with half-a-head –"

"No no, not that, before that," the older man cut him off sharply. "About your style…?"

Steve thought for a split second, trying to recall precisely what he'd said. "I said… I said you were crimping my style… why?"

Mike's look turned inward and very slowly he began to smile. "That's it."

Frowning, Steve took a step into the office. "What's it?"

"There was something bothering me about our Mr. Laudanum, and I think you just cracked it for me." He looked up at his partner and grinned. "I really think you did."