The Detective and the Tech Guy
Rating: T
Summary: A case of mistaken identity and murder brings Sarah Walker, Pinkerton agent, to sunny California. Protecting the heir to the Bartowski Electronics Corporation should be just business - but Chuck Bartowski fills out a suit nicely and makes a mean martini. Chuck lobbied to hire the Pinkerton Agency, but had no idea the detective they'd send would be as alluring, intelligent and fascinating as Sarah Walker. Will the detective and the tech guy solve the mystery, distracted by the riddle in their own hearts? An homage to The Thin Man movies.
Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck or The Thin Man series. And I'm making no monetary profit from this story.
Author's Note: I've got a two-parter for you folks! Here's the first part! Second part is coming soon!
XOXOXOXOXOXO
There was nothing more terrifying than being woken up from a half-sleep by a scream.
Electric currents burst through his body and he was out of bed immediately, blinking in the darkness, dropping to the ground and reaching under her bed for the metal baseball bat he knew was there. He did all of this in one second flat, before he was crashing down the hallway of Sarah's apartment, on a damn mission to murder whoever the hell…
"Sarah!" he called out, just as he emerged from the hallway and staggered into the living room, wielding the bat, ready to swing it even harder than he had that one time he hit a home run when he was a twelve year old attempted Little Leaguer.
He expected to find some intruder wrestling her to the ground, someone pointing a gun or a knife at her.
But he turned to see that Sarah Walker was sitting at her laptop, a massive grin on her face. "Chuck, I—" She looked up at him from her screen and the grin died, replaced by a look of confusion. "What are you holding that for?" she asked.
Chuck blinked, keeping the bat up. "Someone else here?" he asked, just to make sure, but he already knew the answer.
"What? No. No one is here."
He lowered his bat with a relieved huff, his shoulders slumping a little. "Oh. Well, you screamed! I was almost asleep and I heard you scream so I grabbed this and came out here ready to wreck some intruder and save you."
His girlfriend winced and climbed up from where she sat at her dinner table, slowly walking to his side. He could see she was brimming with excitement, though, underneath everything. She was glowing. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have screamed like that. I'm just—Chuck, it happened."
He frowned in confusion, tilting his head. "What? W-What happened?"
Sarah grabbed his hand that wasn't still wrapped around the bat and dragged him around the table to her laptop. "A client, Chuck. A client happened."
Chuck's tired mind finally had what she was saying click into place and make sense. He gasped. "Someone contacted you with a case?"
"Someone contacted me with a case!" she parroted, clasping her hands together in front of her mouth and beaming with an adorably excited giggle. She gestured to her email she had opened. "I have been checking, like, once an hour for…God, for weeks." He knew. He'd been almost a little concerned how often she'd checked her email, hoping for something, ever since he sent his old family friend a recommendation about her. "I'm sorry I woke you up. I really am but…"
"No, no. It's okay. It's totally fine. Just, like, be careful with the screaming. That's all I ask." He put a hand on his heart and gave her a wide-eyed look. "Considering the fact that you've been instrumental in putting a lot of bad people in prison, and/or causing them to lose lots of money, it isn't exactly a leap for me to assume some vengeful criminal from your past broke in to hurt you when I hear you screaming."
Sarah winced again, putting a hand on his neck and stroking. "I'm sorry, Chuck. You're right. I just got really hyped. A client!" She laughed again, bouncing on her toes a bit.
"Keep being this cute and I'll forgive you for just about anything," he chuckled, moving in to kiss her temple, giving her a short, tight hug with one arm. "So who is this client?"
"Some big insurance guy named Greg Mestik. He has a huge operation. Said he doesn't want to discuss details with me over email and would prefer meeting in person."
Chuck nodded, and then he bit his lip and wrinkled his nose. "So, uh, how'd he find you? Just out of curiosity."
The look she got on her face told him she was well aware of the reason why he was asking. But she let him have it this time and just smirked as she admitted, "He said I was referred by a friend of a friend. My guess is that friend's name is Reggie Lincoln. What do you think, Chuck?"
Chuck shrugged innocently. "Could be someone else."
"And that friend of his friend…is one Charles Irving Bartowski."
He wasn't sure if he was in trouble for it or not, by the look on her face. And then she sniffed in amusement and shook her head, smiling. "I don't care how he found me, Chuck. I have someone who's interested in hiring me. I don't know what he means to hire me for, but I don't care. This is a case. I'm getting my start."
The tech guy grinned so hard he thought his face might break. "I'm proud of you."
She giggled happily and grabbed his hands. "Thank you. I'm gonna do this. This agency, it's gonna work. This is just the beginning."
"I'm sure he's just the first of many," he assured her, leaning in to kiss her forehead.
"I feel so energized." She pulled her hands away and grabbed her head. "Oh! God. I should actually respond to his email. He sent it, like, three hours ago!"
She rushed to sit back down and clicked reply.
"Hey, hey…relax. This is better." She gave him a what the fuck look of the highest order and he chuckled at how cute she was, rounding to the back of her chair and leaning down over her to round her shoulders with his arms, resting his chin gently on the top of her head. "You don't respond for a few hours, it makes him think you've got other clients, you're busy. You're in high demand." He kissed her hair. "I mean, pretty soon here, you will be. So…"
"Are you telling me to play hard to get with potential clients?"
"Yes. Frankly."
Sarah giggled through her nose and wrote up a quick response. She read it aloud once she typed it out. "Mr. Mestik: Apologies for not responding to you sooner. Give me a time and a date and I will make our meeting my priority. My schedule can be fixed to fit your needs. Thank you for your consideration…Sarah Walker, Walker Investigative Enterprises." She paused, then shifted out from under him so that she could tilt her head back and look up at him. "What do you think?"
"It's delicious," he said, squeezing her a bit. "I especially like that bit about you making him a priority, making your schedule flexible just for him. Guys like me—with a lot of money and self-importance—love it when someone who doesn't have a lot of time and is in high demand still makes us their priority."
That made her laugh. "You aren't like that."
"That's what you think. Just wait until you're in high demand," he said, gesturing to the screen as she hit send. "I'm going to expect you to prioritize me, aka your boyfriend, even though you're gonna be incredibly busy." He nuzzled her cheek and made her laugh again.
"I don't think I'm gonna have a choice. I just wish I'd had a serious, longterm boyfriend when I was a Pinkerton detective. Would've made my downtime between cases—what little of it I got—a lot more fun." He didn't know how, but she somehow got her hand around him to pinch his ass.
He yelped and jumped a little, rubbing where she pinched him. "Salacious woman."
She cracked up and shut her computer, climbing to her feet and turning to face him as he straightened to his full height, smirking at her all the while.
"By the way…where'd you get the baseball bat?" she asked, picking it up from where he'd leaned it against her chair and raising it between them, a quizzical look on her face.
"Oh, that? I brought it when you first moved in here." He took it from her and swept it around in a mimic of a one-armed, baseball swing. "I know you have a gun, but I thought, ya know, in case you didn't have the gun handy, it'd be good to have this to protect yourself." He shrugged. "So I brought it and slid it under your bed."
She blinked. "I never knew there was a metal baseball bat under my bed, all these months. You never actually told me about the bat, thus defeating the purpose…" Chuck frowned. She'd just made a really good point. But she giggled and put her hand on his shoulder, going up on her tiptoes to give him a long, sweet kiss. "But I love you for it, anyway. It's a sweet thought."
"Well, now you know it's there." He chuckled, shaking his head at himself.
"That makes me feel better about being a skinny woman living all by herself in this big apartment," she said, mockingly making her lovely blue eyes large and grabbing her chest dramatically.
"Skinny." He snorted. And then he realized how that sounded and he unconsciously moved held the bat behind his back, away from her reach, seeing the way she raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips. "No, no," he rushed out. "I didn't mean—You're literally made out of muscle. You're super lean. You could easily kick anyone's ass. Listen, I-I took aikido lessons from you and I felt firsthand just how not-skinny you are. I-I mean that skinny usually has this connotation of weakness, and you are the strongest freaking person I know, Sarah Walker. So strong. Like…grr…" He flexed his arm and realized that brought the bat well within her reach again, so he quickly moved it behind him where she couldn't get to it to murder him.
Sarah just laughed. "You're such a damn goofball."
He winced. "For what it's worth, the baseball bat wasn't because I'm terrified of you living alone, like you can't handle it or something. It's so that you'd have another tool to defend yourself with if it ever comes to that. That's all. You can defend yourself better than I can. Hell, I have, like, three baseball bats and a PVC pipe under my bed. I need all the help I can get."
Shaking her head at him and reaching around to grab the bat from him, she gently set it on the table behind her and stood there, as though waiting for him to do something…or say something. Waiting for him to make the next move, as it were.
And because he knew her, knew them, he was pretty sure he knew what she wanted that next move to be.
"So…Sarah."
"Mhm?"
"You, uh, you think you might be able to stop checking your email for the rest of the night? Now that you've gotten yourself a client already." He bit his bottom lip and smiled, tilting his head.
She gave him a faux innocent look. "Oh, I think since I've gotten a meeting with a new client, I can probably hang it up for a few hours, at least until morning."
"Late morning," he amended.
"Late morning," she agreed with a giggle.
"Maybe even the afternoon."
Sarah wrinkled her nose. "I might have to check my email before then, in case he wants to meet tomorrow."
He gave her a teasing put-upon sigh. "Fiiiiiiiiiine. I can work with that."
"Oh? Can you?"
He wrapped his arms around her lower back and pulled her in as she read his mind and leapt up to wrap her legs around his waist, hands landing on his shoulders. She giggled and leaned down to kiss him.
"Hey," she breathed when they broke apart, leaning her forehead against his and looking down into his eyes. He got a little lost in her, for what must have been the thousandth time. "Do you think this will ever be…I dunno, not as good as it is now? As it's always been?"
He spied a hint of shyness, vulnerability even, in her face as she asked that. As though interrupting their sweet, warm moment with a serious, candid question about their relationship made her feel a little awkward.
"We've been together for almost two years now. If it hasn't gotten…less good…I dunno a better way to phrase that so we'll go with it." She sniffed in amusement. "If it hasn't gotten less good yet, it isn't going to. Also, there's nothing in this world that could ever make me not feel like this when I'm around you, Sarah Walker. I don't see that changing ever, let alone anytime soon."
And suddenly, he felt shy, catching the way he said the word "ever". It was a big word. There was a lot of weight in it. But he felt it deep in his soul. This was the rest of his life he was holding in his arms at that moment, and he just knew it. Every bit of him knew it.
She didn't react to or comment on the word. Instead, she just grinned and kissed him again. "I love you," she said, and then, "Take me to bed."
Chuck let out a silly, "Yesssssssssssssssss!" and started carrying her back towards the room.
"Ah ah! Don't forget my bat! Just in case!"
He laughed and backed up, reaching back to snag the bat. "Yes, Your Highness, P.I. …Your PIness."
Her resulting giggle trailed down the hallway to the bedroom, and was muffled as the door shut behind them.
XOXOXOXOXOXO
It was easy to imagine how working at the insurance company of your wife's beloved uncle could become stale.
Sarah'd been inside of Greg Mestik's office, and she'd seen the rows of cubicles, the small plants people kept on their desks, the hand-held fans for when the AC went out. Taupe was everywhere. There weren't a lot of windows where Thomas Pendleton worked. And working in insurance seemed like such a dull gig. At least it did to her.
And she imagined it must be for him.
Especially considering he'd gone to university for art history and went to art school after that. It was when he met and married Irma Mestik that he'd been pushed into insurance.
Not that any of this was an excuse if he really was embezzling money from his uncle's insurance company.
Sarah flicked her eyes up as she brought her coffee cup to her lips, taking in the man as he sat at the shop window and swirled the remainder of his coffee distractedly, watching the Angelenos stride by, on their way back to work after a lunch break perhaps. He was thirty-six, his brown hair was slightly fading, a bit of a bald spot forming at the back of his head. His clothes seemed expensive enough, a top of the line suit considering he was one of the top employees at Mestik. But there was a slump to his shoulders. Or…well, perhaps less of a slump these days, considering what he may or may not be doing.
She had some work ahead of her before she could tell Mr. Mestik any of her findings.
Like, for instance, the three times Pendleton went to a bank in just one week—and not the same bank, either. She'd tailed him to three separate banks. And she knew for a fact that he only got one paycheck every other week. So how did he have the money to deposit in three separate banks in one week? Monday, Wednesday, Friday.
Today was Monday, again. She'd have to keep a close eye on him and see if he went back to bank number one. She had a hunch he would. But she had yet to discover how much he deposited each time, if it was the same or a different amount, how much it was. For all she knew, it was only twenty each time. And then she'd have no case against him. Sixty dollars a week was only a small bit of what he made, even if it was really shady that he had an account in three different banks.
She put her cup down quickly as she saw him leave money on the table and get to his feet. Once he disappeared through the door, tugging on his suit jacket again, Sarah waited a few seconds before tossing money on her table and following behind. It meant she'd be hungry later, as she only ate half of her sandwich, but it was worth the sacrifice if her hunch was right.
He'd left faster than she thought he might. Last Monday, he'd gone to the bank around one in the afternoon, and it was only twelve-thirty now, she realized as she checked her watch.
So he wasn't entirely doing things in an exact pattern and timeline.
Every turn he made as he walked took them closer to his Monday bank. It was a smaller, California-based, local bank. And fifteen minutes later, she smirked to herself as it came into view.
Her hunch was right.
She pulled a pair of glasses out of the front pocket of her messenger bag and slid them on over her blue eyes, quickly pulling her hair up into a bun at the top of her head. She grabbed her cell phone and looked down at it as she walked behind him, pretending to be texting someone or surfing social media. Instead, she snapped a few pictures of him with the bank sign in the shot.
Then she followed him inside and waited behind him in line. He didn't look at her even once as they stood there for the next three and a half minutes, waiting their turn. But she did catch a glimpse of the inside of his briefcase. He pulled out what looked like a check. Who'd written it and whose money it was, she couldn't tell, unfortunately, and she couldn't risk getting much closer at the risk he'd catch her.
Luckily for her, two tellers opened up right next to each other. Pendleton hurried to one and she casually walked to the other. Being an expert liar and multi-tasker came in handy as a Pinkerton detective more often than not, so Sarah quietly discussed with the teller the benefits of opening an account with the bank, all while listening to the conversation happening next to her. Last week, she hadn't gotten this close to him. She'd hung out on the other side of the room and watched him take the checks out to deposit them. But now she heard the teller clearly say, "Five hundred fifty, sir?" and his confident response: "Yes."
She finished her conversation with the teller, thanking her for the information and promising to come back to sign up, and then she hurried out of the bank, traversing the few blocks to her car, and getting inside. She grabbed her recorder out of her center console and brought it to her mouth, pressing record. She started it with the date and time, then continued with the details: "Suspect arrived at Cafe Bella Trattoria at 11:54 am, ordered his usual cup of coffee and garden salad with a bowl of clam chowder. He left the cafe earlier than usual, at 12:30 pm, then walked to Sogerd & Co Bank. He deposited five hundred and fifty dollars. Making assumptions at this point seems drastic, but I have a hunch he'll be depositing the same amount at Wells Fargo on Wednesday, and CitiBank on Friday. If that's the case," she thought for a moment, shutting her eyes, "Five hundred and fifty multiplied by three is sixteen hundred and fifty dollars. Double check with Mestik to see if Pendleton's salary is around that for a week's work. Don't forget commissions he may or may not make on deals he's brokered."
Putting the recorder back in her middle console, she snapped it shut and pulled out of her parking space. Her phone rang as she drove back to her office and she hit the button on her steering wheel to answer. "Sarah Walker, P.I.," she answered, in the most serious voice she could muster.
There was silence for a few moments, and then she heard her boyfriend's voice: "I know you don't always answer your phone like that and that you just did it because you saw it was me calling, and I'm requesting you do that every time I call from now on, because that is easily the hottest thing that's happened to me all week."
She laughed and shook her head as she drove through Los Angeles' financial district towards Chinatown. "Oh, I totally planned it that way." He made a nerdy growl sound and she giggled. "Please tell me your assistant isn't around while you make sounds like that at me."
There was silence for a second, some rustling, and then, "Uh no. Nope. He is not."
He totally had his assistant in the room and shooed him out, she knew. She rolled her eyes. "Liar."
"Whaaaat? Noooo. I'm not—Yes, he was totally in here. Sorry. He knows our relationship by now though I mean come on."
The detective rolled her eyes and smirked. "So what's this call for? Need me to come over there and give you a back rub or something?"
"I meeeean…if you're offering…"
She smiled. "Maybe later. I've got some research to do at the moment."
"What?!" He made his voice high-pitched in faux disbelief. "You offer a back rub and then I say yes and you say 'maybe later'? That's cruel." She laughed and he continued. "No, really I just wanted to know how that case is going. The one you refuse to tell me about for whatever reason."
"Chuck, Mr. Mestik hired me a week ago, and I've learned almost nothing in that time. There's not much to tell at this point. When I have stuff to tell you, I'll tell you."
"Noooo, tell me noooow. I'm just sitting in my office being bored."
"Don't you have a multi-billion dollar tech company to run?"
There was a long pause. "…I'm running it," he said in a small unconvincing voice. She chuckled at him. "Fine. Well, can I meet you somewhere for dinner at least?"
"Yes. My place. Six o'clock."
Another pause.
"What iiiif I come at five o'clock instead and we can fool around 'til six o'clock?"
Charmed half out of her mind, she grinned and turned onto the street where her building was, keeping her eyes peeled for a good street spot. There was a parking garage for the businesses below, but the street always felt safer since she could see it from her office. Not to mention, underground parking garages weren't all quite as spacious and airy as the one under Chuck's condo. And she'd never admit it out loud, but she had a bit of a weakness with small and enclosed places, especially with how low the roof was down there…
"Chuck, you realize the phrase 'fool around' implies we're not in a relationship, right? Like, if I'd jumped you like I wanted to while I was working on your case, that would've been fooling around. We're in a pretty steady relationship, as far as I'm concerned, and therefore no matter what we do, it can't be classified as fooling around," she teased.
"So what would you call it, Miss Smarty Pants Private Investigator?"
"Sex," she said bluntly.
There was a pause for about seven seconds. And then, "If I show up at five, can we have sex?"
"Yep!" she chirped.
"Great, I'll see you at five then," he said.
"Mhm. Don't forget to hydrate," she quipped.
"You stop that this instance. I'm hanging up, you bad girl."
And she laughed hard when she realized he had.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXO
"It's a mistress."
"What?"
Chuck turned to look at Sarah, surprised she hadn't come up with this on her own. He furrowed his brow. "Sarah. Come on."
She made a face back at him, and when he made to grab her notepad she'd been using for the case, she held it out of reach so his fingers met with nothing but air. "Don't 'Sarah come on' at me. A mistress? Seriously, Chuck? This isn't one of those movies you're always trying to get me to watch with femme fatales n' shit. This guy is either embezzling money from his uncle's company or he's not."
Chuck shook his head then gave her a flat look. Out of habit, he slid his bare leg underneath hers as they sat shoulder to shoulder in bed, the sheet pooled at their waists the only thing covering them. After they spent some time not fooling around, Sarah ordered take-out, grabbed her notepad, and climbed back into bed with him, telling him everything she had so far in the Mestik case.
"What makes you think there isn't a woman involved?" he asked.
"What makes you think there is? Thomas Pendleton is a married man. And to his boss' favorite niece, no less. That'd be so stupid on his part, Chuck."
Not offended by her response to his theory in the slightest, the tech guy shrugged. "Listen. Baby, you really need to get yourself into that P.I. headspace if you're gonna be a P.I." She raised her eyebrow at him and he rushed on. "No, I mean it. I'm not trying to condescend. Watch…I dunno. Watch Chinatown. A lot of people are going to come to you wanting help with stuff like this. You know, 'Is my employee stealing from me' type stuff. But you're also going to get a lot of people who want to pay you to find out what their significant other or partner is up to. Is she having an affair? Whom with? That sort of thing. You gotta think that might be a motive for this. Sex is a powerful motive and makes people do dumb things."
"Okay, but set aside the fact that you came up with this theory because you've seen it in movies about people who are in my line of work. What actual reason based on this evidence I have right here in this notepad makes you think Pendleton is having an affair?" she asked. "And you have to keep to this." She tapped the notepad.
He appreciated that she wasn't completely brushing him off and calling him an idiot. Either she actually wanted to hear him out, or she was just indulging him. It didn't matter which it was, he appreciated it either way.
Chuck held out his hand, but when she put it in his palm, she held fast to it, making him get into a bit of a tug of war over it. There was a devilish smirk on her face as she ended up on top of him, her body draped over his. She propped herself up on her elbows and smiled impishly down at him as he held the notebook he'd finally obtained to the side and started expertly flipping through it.
"Not this page…not this one," he murmured, "Nope. No. Ah! Aha! Here. Right here." He held it for her to see, smacking his finger on the note he wanted her to see.
She took the notepad and looked down at what he'd pointed out to her. "My notes about his body language? What of it?" she asked, tossing the notepad to the side and sliding a bit further up his body. He felt everything acutely and had to control himself from letting his eyes roll to the back of his head. She knew exactly what she was doing, damn her.
"Mestik told you that he found it strange that Thomas was acting a little differently. Seemed healthier, happier…peppier, was a word he used, yeah?"
"You're not wrong," she said diplomatically, fluttering her eyelashes down at him.
"He said his posture was even a tad better. I mean, not in those words, but same gist. Something in his life has changed. Now, Mr. Mestik just assumed it was because of that money that's slowly been going missing here and there, right? Accounts and paperwork that aren't adding up to what they should be. He thinks his nephew-in-law is happier because he's got a lot more money. But I'm not convinced that's all it is." He shrugged, gently laying his hands on the small of her back and bending his legs on either side of her so his knees made a tent of sheets above their lower halves.
"You think it's a mistress."
"Mhm. Let me give you some perspective, as a man."
"Oh, please. Do."
He play-glared at her, pressing his lips together, and continued as though she hadn't just been deliciously sarcastic at him. "Before I met you, I was totally fine. Happy enough. Just did my work, felt really good about it, didn't really feel like I was missing anything. And for all intents and purposes, I probably wasn't. Dating wasn't that huge of a deal to me, which drove my sister bonkers. But we've never been alike in that way. Anyway…" He cleared his throat as he realized a slow smirk was growing on his girlfriend's beautiful face. "You came into my life all…" he seductively ran his eyes down her body even though he couldn't see most of it, "…long legs and life-saving bad assery," she giggled, "and it was…different. I felt different. I felt like dancing everywhere instead of walking."
She giggled again, seemingly charmed.
"I just—I was so happy," he continued. "And when I started getting laid…" Sarah rocked forward, barking out a laugh, shaking her head at him as her eyes glittered. "You better believe I was strutting instead of walking once we started having sex. I'm not trying to be crude, either," he chuckled, "I mean it. Like, I was having quite the dry spell and I'd forgotten how freaking unstoppable it makes you feel. I dunno if it's the same for women, or for you. But…I'm serious. Ellie, Morgan, Devon…They all saw a change in me, even if they didn't know what it was. There's every reason for you to believe this guy is getting laid. Either a mistress or maybe prostitutes…"
"Whoa," she interrupted, eyes wide.
"What? It's a thing people do. Not my bag, but it is somebody's. Maybe it's his." He shrugged.
"I don't know. Does paying for sex really give someone that same unstoppable feeling? I feel like that'd make me feel worse. Someone's only banging me because they want a paycheck. It's icky and I think it would be a major knock to my confidence."
"Really good point. Probably not prostitutes then. But I'm betting on a mistress."
Then she got a look in her face…a look he recognized well by now, and he felt that stirring deep behind his belly button again. "And…what exactly are you using to bet with, Tech Guy?" she asked, sweeping her long blond hair out of the way and moving in to kiss him slowly.
He just stayed there beneath her, kissing her back, not knowing what time it was or how long it lasted, until she pulled back again.
"I don't know. What year is it, again?"
Sarah laughed and shook her head, diving down to kiss him again.
XOXOXOXOXOXO
Chuck Bartowski, heir to the Bartowski Electronics Corporation, had seen things in his lifetime that plenty of people would never get to see, he knew. He'd been to the coolest places and he'd met the coolest people. It just so happened that some of those people put quite a lot of money into his pocket, money he'd used to buy his condo, his car, some really nice clothes…and he'd also used it to install a hell of a nice bar in the condo, one that hadn't been there before.
His life was full of cool stuff.
And yet, in spite of all of that, none of that seemed quite as cool as the fact that he was walking down an old hallway with creaking wood floors towards a door that looked like it belonged to Philip Marlowe or Sam Spade. Inside of that door was a private investigative agency that belonged to none other than his girlfriend. His own girlfriend.
She had her name on the door's foggy glass window and everything.
When he got up to the door, he poked the R in WALKER with his pointer finger and preened a little.
Then he reached down and opened the door to the outer office. It was empty, like he'd expected it might be. She hadn't the funds to hire an assistant just yet. And with the way clients weren't exactly kicking her door down, it might not be for a while yet. He wouldn't say that out loud to Sarah, of course. It wasn't hard to see that she was getting impatient for this to all click into place. It was messing with her confidence and he hated that. He'd watched his dad go through the same thing with his own business.
"Sarah?" he called out.
She slowly stepped into the doorway of her office and huffed, her shoulders sagging a bit. She even looked disappointed.
His jaw dropped open comically. "Well. I'm so sorry I couldn't be Insert-People's-Current-Sexiest-Man-Alive-Cover-Dude-Here for you, Sarah Walker, P.I. but I feel like I should at least count for somethin'." He grinned with his tongue between his teeth, crossing his arms as she rolled her eyes.
"I just thought you might be a client."
"Oh. I'm not."
"Are you sure?" She wrinkled her nose. "Somebody misplace your stapler, maybe?" She lifted her chin to look up at him as he approached her. "The little tin jar where you keep your paperclips?"
"Come to think of it, I haven't been able to find those lately. How much do you charge?"
"Six hundred thousand and seventy-seven dollars. Exactly."
He hummed out a chuckle. "That, exactly?"
"Yes." She preened as he slid his hands over her waist and stepped in closer, kissing her lightly.
"What if I told you I don't have a tin thing for paperclips and instead just have them all over inside of my drawer so that I spend a minute or longer searching for one?"
"Yeah. That checks out." She giggled.
"How about instead of paying you chump change, really," he drawled with faux-smarminess, "to find a lost stapler, I just take you out to lunch? I found a fusion Korean-Mexican place nearby I've been meaning to try out and I know how much you love Korean and Mexican so I've been waiting to go with you. Picture this: kimchi tacos."
"Aw. You're too good to me…"
"Well…" He teasingly ducked his head in modesty.
"But I can't."
He froze, aware that his face fell a little. "What? Why?"
"I already have a date. Going to this new hibachi place."
"Who's your date? Ellie?"
"No, Chuck. I said a date, not a girl date." She fluttered her eyelashes, and when she got no further response from him, she huffed. "It's impossible to make you jealous and it's a little bad for my self-esteem," she teased.
He chuckled. "It's called trust. And you know that." That made her smile a genuine, slow smile. "But really, what's this lunch date about? New client?"
"No. It's for the case." She stepped back into her office and grabbed a file off of her desk, waggling it a little before opening it and handing it to him. He glanced down at the pictures. A man and a woman were kissing, pressed up against a tree. Then the same couple were in a picture climbing into a taxi hand in hand. And finally they were walking into a building together. "Guess who."
"Is this Pendleton and…" He gasped, his eyes alight as he lifted them to her amused face. "A MISTRESS? WAS I RIGHT?"
"You were right."
He smacked the folder shut and lifted his arms over his head in triumph. "YES! See? Sarah! I can help you! I know dudes! I know how guys think! We're idiots!"
"Oh, come on," she said with a scoff, smirking as she swiped the folder from him and put it back on the desk, sending him a side-eye. "This crap he's pulling is not something I'd ever have to worry about with you. Or…Devon, Morgan, your dad…any of the guys I've known—Well, wait. Not all of them." She rolled her eyes. "I take that back. But…Where am I going with this?"
"I honestly don't know."
"You probably do know men better than I do. I'll grant you that. There."
He laughed. "Thanks." She shrugged. "So what's this lunch date thing? What are you doing?"
"Pendleton and his mistress, whom I haven't been able to identify just yet, have a lunch date at Sir Sensei's, that new hibachi place that opened up in WeHo."
"Hmmmm going all the way to WeHo to meet up, huh? Sneaky."
She shrugged again. "Less chance they'll be spotted by people they know, right?"
"Can I come?"
Sarah did a double take. "What?"
"Can I come with? To Sir Sensei's?" She looked like she was going to say no, so he held his hands up and cut in quickly. "It'd look kind of suspicious if you went to a hibachi place alone. Hear me out. If you're also on a date, that makes you a little more inconspicuous, yeah? I mean, who goes for fancy and fun Japanese food and slicey dicey in the air tricks and stuff all by themselves? Nobody, babe. Come on."
His girlfriend leaned back against her desk and nibbled on her bottom lip thoughtfully. "I mean…I guess that is a weird place to go for lunch on your own. That's a date atmosphere…or, like, a birthday celebration or something."
"Exactly. Who goes there alone? Maybe…I don't know, maybe someone who really, really, really likes having shrimp thrown at their face."
She giggled. "Fine. You can come. But!" she cut him off before he could celebrate. "Please, please, please be as chill as possible when we're there. Please. I have a plan to get myself sat at their table. Or close by. Or…well, not really a plan. It's more that I'm gonna wing it. Hopefully. And if it happens, I need you to not interact. At all. Please."
"Easy. Done. This is so cool. We're sleuthing together."
"No…" She gave him a warning look as she grabbed her bag. "I need a date so I don't look like a weirdo who likes shrimp being thrown at her face."
Chuck laughed as they walked out of her office, doing his best not to show his girlfriend just how excited he really was.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXO
"Do we get disguises?"
"No."
"Why not? That'd be awesome."
"Chuck, there is no reason for either of us to wear disguises into this restaurant. Neither of those people know what we look like."
"I dunnooooo, they might've seen me in WIRED magazine. I've had a few spreads in there." She bit her cheek to keep from smirking at how that sounded but he must've noticed because he poked her arm. "Stop it."
She shrugged innocently. "What?"
He merely sent her a look, which, she had to admit, was much smarter than saying something to open that particular line of conversation.
"They won't even notice us, anyway, Chuck. We're just going to be at the table listening to their conversation, eating some hopefully good food, and enjoying our date. It's a simple enough thing."
Chuck grabbed the door to Sir Sensei's and opened it for her. "Fine, I'll follow your lead. No good cop, bad cop."
As they walked into the noisy restaurant, the smell of food and oil sizzling assaulting their nostrils in the best way, Sarah turned on him and poked her finger into his chest, making sure he met her gaze before she spoke in low tones. "Listen, buddy. First of all, neither of us are cops, not even me. Secondly, if we were cops, this would be not a cop, not a cop. Because we wouldn't want them to know we're cops."
Her boyfriend blinked. "Two really good points you just made there."
"Mmmhm." She gave him a flirtatious wink and walked further into the restaurant, looking at every single face and back of the head of every single customer she could see from her vantage point.
She spotted them towards the back, sitting close together as a waitress handed them menus. And no chef was at the table yet, either.
"They're here. I see them," Chuck murmured into her ear from where he stood behind her. She nodded minutely and stepped up to the host podium.
"Welcome to Sir Sensei's. How many?"
"Hi, just two of us, please."
"You came just before the rush. I can put you at your own table, if you would like."
"Oh?" Sarah glanced over her shoulder at Chuck. "You know, a lot of the empty tables look like they're sort of too close to the front, don't they, sweetie?" Chuck nodded and she turned back to the hostess. "We were hoping a table in the back would be okay. We don't mind sitting with someone else."
The woman looked a bit surprised for a moment, but she was good at her job and covered it well with a welcoming smile. "We can absolutely accommodate that."
"We always pick tables in the back," Sarah explained as they followed her. "Isn't that right, babe?" She threw over her shoulder at Chuck again. "And these things are so much more fun when there are other people at the table."
"Uh…right. I don't like…empty tables. At…uh, hibachi restaurants."
She sent him a 'wtf' look and he shrugged dramatically, mouthing, "I DON'T KNOW!"
"What about that one?" Sarah asked, pointing towards the table where Pendleton and his mistress were still leaning over their menus. "Looks like the chef hasn't powered up the stove yet."
"Well spotted, darling," Chuck said. "Let's sit there."
The hostess didn't say anything as she walked them to the table and sat them down. And luckily, the couple was so engrossed in one another that they barely noticed someone else was now with them.
Sarah took the seat near Pendleton's mistress, without sitting so close that it was obvious. There were eight chairs after all and it would've been incredibly intrusive and weird if she'd chosen a chair right next to someone who was a stranger.
It wasn't until a few minutes in that Pendleton and his date seemed to finally take notice of the other couple. Sarah noticed back and nodded with a smile. They merely smiled back, more polite than genuine, before turning back to one another.
"It's an easy decision, sweetie. Or, at least, it should be."
"An easy decision? Either I go to the conference like I told Uncle G I would, or I go on a vacation alone, which would seem very strange," Thomas said to the woman beside him.
"People take vacations alone all the time."
"No, they don't. Unless…" There was a pause. "Irma, have you heard of people taking business trips but extending it an extra week or so for vacation? A little R&R tacked onto the end of business?"
Sarah noted the fact that Thomas was using his wife's name for his mistress. That was pretty gross.
"Of course. I mean, I've done it before. Sammy used to do it all the time. Granted, the lying dirtbag lied to me about it, but he did it."
If what Sarah thought was happening in this conversation was actually happening, what kind of a hypocrite was Irma, since 'the lying dirtbag' did what these two were planning to do as well?
"Let's not talk about Sammy. And let's not talk about anyone else. This is just about us. This lunch is about us, right?"
"Right."
As they kissed, Sarah leaned in close to Chuck and whispered in his ear. "Did you hear that?"
He nodded.
"Oh! By the way, I found something on the nightstand this morning that wasn't there when I fell asleep next to you last night…" When "Irma" paused, Sarah thought it prudent to start a conversation with Chuck, quietly, just so it didn't seem like they were eavesdropping.
"Oh, I forget to tell you: I'm having trouble connecting to the WiFi in the building," she told her boyfriend, and it wasn't entirely a lie. The WiFi went in and out constantly and drove her bonkers. "I grab my phone to text you kissy emojis when I'm bored and I see that stupid "No Service" message in the top corner."
"—You liked it, though?" she heard Thomas ask his mistress. "I was hoping it wasn't too gaudy. I know you don't like gaudy."
"You know me so well."
Chuck spoke over the sound of them kissing. "Oh, so you have to do the whole turn off the WiFi and turn it back on again thing, huh?"
"Yes, it's freaking annoying. Can't get any work done."
"—Compliments of Uncle G."
The couple at their table chuckled together. It was almost too perfect, the way they were currently flaunting their scheme. Though, she had to admit, Pendleton's statement didn't necessarily mean he'd stolen money from Mestik, considering he was literally on the Mestik payroll. It was still really screwed up, however.
Finally, the chef arrived and fired up the stove, taking their orders, pouring the saki, and starting his show. The conversation died down, and instead they were engrossed in his mesmerizing movements, the way he tossed the food in the air, how animated and talkative he was with them.
"Double date?" he asked after a few minutes.
"No, we don't know them," fake-Irma said, gesturing to Chuck and Sarah.
"Ahh." He didn't pursue that line of discussion any further. "You want to impress your wife, sir?" the chef asked Pendleton then. And neither of them corrected him as the swindler chuckled and gestured for the chef to toss a bit of steak towards his mouth. Sarah felt a good bit of satisfaction when the cheating bastard (and most likely a thief as well) was smacked in the cheek by the steak. She covered it well, but Chuck didn't, having to suffocate a snicker with his fist.
She didn't miss the little glare from the mistress and Pendleton. And she shot him a wide-eyed look that she hoped he took to mean CONTROL YOURSELF PLEASE.
Looking properly chastised, Chuck was surprised when a slice of pepper came flying at him. However, he was quick, having to lean into Sarah's space and catching the food cleanly in his mouth. He held up his hands as he chewed, receiving applause from the others at the table, and Sarah had to admit, it had been pretty impressive.
"Well caught, sir. Well caught," the chef said, wiggling his knife at him teasingly.
Chuck shrugged and smiled proudly at Sarah, and she couldn't resist giggling at him and shaking her head.
The fun continued as they ate their meals, and Sarah felt the high of the atmosphere starting to get to her. (The saki she'd had on top of the martini she ordered after the saki certainly helped.) And eventually, a conversation bloomed between the couples as the chef excused himself and moved away from the table.
"You two are married then?" Sarah asked as the friendly laughter died down a bit.
"Uh, yes," Thomas Pendleton said. "We are."
"You married?" fake-Irma asked, raising her eyebrows.
"Oh, no."
"Nope."
"No."
Sarah looked over at her boyfriend and they both chuckled at how quick they were to answer that. She decided not to think any further on that topic, or how they both reacted to the mistress's question. "We aren't married," she clarified further.
"Just hopelessly in love," Chuck added, chewing on fried rice as he hummed an "awwww" at her to match the teasing, warm look she threw over her shoulder at him. It made the other couple chuckle.
"Where did you meet?" fake-Irma asked then, and Sarah was starting to get the idea that Tom Pendleton wasn't the only one who felt untouchable in this whole situation. His mistress was twice as gabby as her partner when she got enough saki and attention thrown her way.
"L.A.," she said, just as Chuck answered with "Paris".
She gave him a look and he blushed a bit. "Well, I mean…she's right," he amended. "We met in L.A. But, like…we didn't have a full on…meeting until Paris." He said, threading his fingers together in front of him where the others could see it.
"Irma" and Pendleton laughed and Sarah elbowed Chuck, even if she thought it was possible he hadn't meant to insinuate what he'd insinuated. Namely that Paris was where they'd first had sex. He wasn't wrong, but still…
"Seriously?" she asked aloud through gritted teeth.
He shrugged, apparently knowing exactly what he'd insinuated. And she had to admit, he was getting pretty good at this. He was playing into the mischievousness she'd picked up on in the other couple. Apparently Chuck had also picked up on the way they fed off of the fact that what they were doing was wrong, that being together was wrong. Maybe that was the driving force in their affair—the fact that it was illicit.
She shook her head at "Irma", sharing an inside joke with the other woman.
"What about you two?" Chuck asked then. "Where'd you meet?"
Sarah held her breath, calmly tilting her martini a little bit to watch the liquid gently roll up the side of the glass and back down again as she tilted it the other way. She thought maybe the question was a little too presumptuous, or too early on in the conversation.
But then "Irma" looked at Tom and raised her pretty, dark eyebrows at him.
"Well…erm…I went on a business trip to New York. She was there, too…"
"Also for a business trip," fake-Irma said.
"That's right. And we found out that, uh, we both lived in L.A. We picked up where we left off when we got back. Isn't that right, dollface?"
"That's right, Tommy."
"What are the odds?" Sarah beamed as she sipped her martini. "Actually, it's funny you mention New York. We're actually headed there soon. A little vacation. Much needed." She made a little "ugh" sound and stuck her tongue out, rolling her eyes a bit. "So overworked, both of us."
"Oh, that's important. Taking trips together," fake-Irma insisted.
"Oh yeah?" Sarah asked. "I mean, you're married. You would know better than we would…"
"Oh, you still have to find the time. We're taking one in two weeks." The dark-haired woman sent Pendleton a look then, a very pointed one that Sarah thought was meant to needle the man. For what reason, the private investigator wasn't certain just yet. "You have to set aside everything else and just…go off together."
Mmhm, set aside everything else…like your actual wife, Sarah thought to herself wryly. These people really were pretty atrocious.
Pendleton looked away in amusement and shook his head, sipping his water as the chef came back to bring the dessert dishes.
"Where are you going?" Chuck asked.
"I wish I could tell you St. Tropez, but unfortunately, it's just going to be Miami."
"Nothing wrong with Miami," Pendleton grumbled. Then he turned to Chuck and Sarah. "I have business there. But once it's done, we're going to enjoy the place."
So were they traveling together after all? A business trip for Mestik that would be paying for the two of them to have a long vacation? God, that was filthy.
"Oh nice. A two-fer," Chuck said. "We should do that next time I have to travel for the company, sweets." He squeezed her shoulder.
Sweets? She sent him a look and he pressed his lips together, widening his eyes comically.
"Oh? Where do you work—" But Pendleton was interrupted by a new voice.
"What the hell?"
Sarah snapped her gaze up as Morgan approached the table, an affronted look on his face. "What the hell, dude?" he directed at Chuck this time.
Oh my God. Oh God no.
"Morgan," Chuck started through his teeth. "We're on a date—"
"That much is obvious, dude. What kind of betrayish bull—"
Sarah coughed and pushed up from the table to defuse the situation as quickly as possible. "Let's discuss this outside and not ruin this nice couple's meal, shall we?" She grabbed the bearded hibachi chef's arm and pulled him away from the hibachi chef who'd been taking care of them throughout their lunch. "I'll be right back. Get me another martini, dear, will you?"
And just like that, she dragged Morgan to the hallway that led to the bathrooms. "What the hell, Morgan?"
"What the hell to you, Sarah!" he snapped, holding his arms out. "I let you two into my hibachi kitchen for free and you throw your money at this…this…" He looked around. "Poser palace," he finished in a dramatic hiss.
"Okay, first of all, you're being really melodramatic. And secondly, what are you doing here?"
"I'm a spy!" he whispered. "I'm…scoping out the competition," he said, looking over each shoulder and then raising his chin proudly. "Suffice to say, my steak is better quality. And these amateurs wouldn't know seafood if it came out of the ocean and bit them in the ass. This place is not a threat to my restaurant. Pfft."
Sarah rolled her eyes. "That's so beneath you, Morgan. But you're right, this isn't as good as your restaurant. For the record."
"Ha! Yes! But why are you two here?" He poked her in the shoulder, then seemed to feel bad for it and pouted a bit when she glared. "Sorry. I just feel a little bit…betrayed, is all."
"Morgan, we're here for my case I'm working on. The man at that table is a suspect. Chuck and I made sure we were sat at the same table so that we could get more info out of him."
The short bearded man blinked, looked to the side to blink again, then looked back up at her. "Whaaaaaaaaaat? That is so coooooool!" Sarah rolled her eyes, trying not to show her amusement. "I'm not even mad anymore. This is the coolest thing I've heard in my life. I'm so proud to be a part of it. Can I come sit down with you? I bet I can get him to admit to whatever it is. I'm really, really good at this kind of stuff. I got Chuck to admit he was madly in love with you after you ditched him post-murder case." She glared at that and he wilted. "You did kinda. Just the truth. But more importantly…can I join you guys?"
"No. Go back to your table."
"Nooooo, pleeease?" he whined, even stomping a little. "I'm finished and I already paid my bill. I don't have a table anymore. Pleeease? I want to help."
"Morgan, go."
She pointed towards the exit doors, gave him a severe look, and watched as he left the restaurant through the side exit, his shoulders slumped a bit.
When she got back to the table, she rolled her eyes and giggled. "Well, I defused that situation. That was this handsome guy's boss," she said, putting her hand on Chuck's cheek and stroking down to his jaw. He thankfully kept his mouth shut. "He sort of…called out sick today," she explained to Thomas and his mistress, then she turned back to Chuck, "but I told him how much you've had to work and how it's been really getting to you, sweetie. He was very understanding about it." She leaned in and kissed his chin.
"Thanks for that, baby. I owe you one."
Eventually when dessert was devoured and the bills were paid, they went their separate ways, wishing each other the best of luck, and as Sarah dragged Chuck away from the restaurant towards where he'd parked his car, she was surprised to find Morgan waiting for them around the corner.
She jumped when he popped out with an, "Okay!"
"Jesus!" Chuck barked, holding his chest. "Um, Morgan? That's how you get yourself stabbed. You realize Sarah has knives on her, right?" he asked, wedging himself between them. It was smart of him, because while she didn't have a mind to stab his best friend, the guy'd been close to getting her fist in his eye.
"Oh. Crap, yeah. Sorry."
"Have you been waiting out here for us this whole time?" she asked him.
"Uh. In short, yes. But you gotta gimme the lowdown on this case, guys. I need to know. I can totally lend something to this case, I think. I know people in hibachi, ya know? I'm a hibachi mover and shaker," he rushed out as he followed them down the sidewalk.
"You're definitely making being a fish chef sound like the next dance craze," Chuck drawled.
Sarah slid her hand into Chuck's and shook her head, twisting her lips to the side to keep from laughing.
"I can be your guy! I can help! Is he a murderer? Is that guy a murderer? Did he kill someone?" Morgan hurried to get in front of them and turned to face them, walking backwards. "Jealous lover? Ooo! Is it like Body Heat and he and that lady he's with are about to go all William Hurt slash Kathleen Turner on the hibachi chef because the hibachi chef is her husband?" He covered his mouth with both hands and stopped, forcing them to stop as well.
Even as Sarah rolled her eyes with an "Oh my God, Morgan", Chuck provided, "What purpose would it serve for the couple having an illicit affair to show up to her husband's place of work and make him cook them fish while they sit there flirting with each other right in front of him, only for them to murder him later?"
"Oh. Dude. Good point. Good point."
Sarah turned to give Chuck a look. And then she faced forward again and shook her head, pulling her hand out of his to walk around Morgan and go to the car. "I'm leaving."
"What'd I do?" she heard Chuck call after her defensively.
"Sarah, he made a good point!" she heard Morgan chime in.
She kept walking.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXO
Author's Note: Hehehehehehehehehehehehehehe I had way too much fun writing this. Second part of the chapter is coming soon!
-SC