Vignettes

[Dreamfire]

Vignette: short, impressionistic scenes that focus on one moment or give a particular insight into a character, idea, setting or premise. May be comic, poignant or merely an intriguing moment for the author to explore and share with friends.

Jim’s arm slipped off the armrest as the passenger door was yanked open. “What the…?” Jim began, but Karen’s scream filled the cabin as she scrambled on top of him and pulled the door closed behind her.

“We gotta get outa here right now!” She tried to climb over him but there wasn’t enough room in the car. In the tangle of arms and legs Jim found himself in the driver’s seat with an hysterical Karen screaming in his ear, her foot stomping on his in a desperate search for the gas pedal and her hands somehow through his and on the wheel. “Start the car!” she yelled. “Just start the f*%king car!” He turned the key, she threw it into gear and they lurched forward.

Jim grabbed the wheel and slammed on the brakes. “What are you doing?”

“Go! Move! We gotta get out here!” Her words were accompanied by another frantic jab at the gas through his foot. Somewhere in the back of his mind he thanked God she didn’t wear stillhettos.

“Karen, no, I can’t.” As the words left his mouth he heard the muffled sound of an explosion, the passenger window tinkled into the seat beside him and the right side of his face warmed.

She wrenched the wheel out of his hands and yelled, “Throttle now! I’ll steer.”

He drove the pedal to the floor. The sudden surge of power caused the car to fly up off the embankment onto the road. Karen spun the wheel and aimed the car at the centre line of the empty road while Jim kept steady pressure on the pedal.

Finally taking her eyes off the billowing flames of the fireworks factory Karen turned back just in time to see a pedestrian only yards in front of them. “Stop!”

Jim slammed on the brakes as she swerved. They slid to a halt, softly kissing a traffic light, narrowly missing the unsuspecting pedestrian who continued running away from the explosion, oblivious to his near miss. With shaking hands Jim slipped the car into park but couldn't keep the grin from his face.

Behind them, the loud explosions were now joined by the whistling sounds of rockets and then another explosion that shook the road, jiggled the car and blew out the back window.

Karen slumped back into the passenger’s seat. "We're okay."

Jim sat and grinned, running his hands over the wheel in front of him.

A uniformed officer ran up the road to the car and poked his head in the driver’s window. Seeing the occupants unharmed he gave vent to his anger. “What the hell happened there? You nearly ran over that pedestrian.”

“I didn’t see them,” Jim said as he turned toward the officer.

The young man blinked in surprise as he looked between Bettancourt and Dunbar. “Um, Detective Dunbar?”

He stepped back, then looked again, “I ...I…”

Karen turned away, checked Hank and whispered to Jim.

Jim took the keys out of the ignition and stepped out of the car. He held them out toward the stunned officer and slammed the door, “Park this for me will you? I’ll be back to pick it up later.” Rescuing Hank from the back seat, he walked toward the back of the car.

Karen scrambled out the passenger window and joined her partner. They walked back to the explosion, the officer standing with his hand still out, keys sitting on his palm and his mouth open watching the two detectives and the dog. A moment later he was on the radio.

~

“Dunbar?”

Jim took his ear piece out, stood, and started toward Fisk’s office. As Jim reached the back of Karen’s chair, Fisk’s ire was clear in his voice, and just a couple of feet away. Jim stopped and shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

“Why do I have a report saying you were in an auto accident today AS THE DRIVER??? Please tell me this is a hoax or a typo or a Halloween joke.”

“Halloween? It’s only September.” Jim tried his best disarming smile on the boss.

“Oh shit.” Fisk threw his hands in the air and looked to Karen. “Karen?”

The female portion of Bettancourt and Dunbar, team extraordinaire, comics without cause, bit her lip in a mannerism more often seen on her partner and stood, effectively placing herself between the two men. “I can explain.”

“Well you better, because there is no doubt the Chief of D’s will be on the phone within five minutes of seeing this report.”

“Well, we were at the scene of that explosion today and I saw it was about to blow. There was no one close by except us. Jim was in the car so I pushed in and we left.” Her voice was basically monotone, reasonable and measured.

“You pushed in and left?” He looked from Karen to Jim and back. “That doesn’t sound like Jim was driving. So why does Officer...” Fisk checked the report in his hand, “Redmond, insist that Detective James Dunbar, quote “the blind cop” end quote, was behind the wheel of the car and apparently operating the vehicle?” Fisk’s glare burned the insouciance from Karen’s eyes and she hung her head.

Jim’s dark glasses protected him, the wry smile underneath them inviting a more effective reprimand from the Boss. “Well technically, maybe. Actually Karen -” Jim began, but Karen elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

Jim shut his mouth with a snap. He stood taller and squared his shoulders, deciding that hiding behind the more diminutive detective wasn't going to work after all.

Their expressions were eerily matched and their stances mirrored each other as the stood together before the ire of their superior. Fisk took a deep breath. “Were you in the driver’s seat Detective Bettancourt?”

“No, Sir.”

“Were you operating the throttle?”

Karen shook her head.

“So you are admitting that Detective Dunbar was in fact driving the car when it crashed?”

Karen found it impossible to meet the boss’s eye and Jim’s face was red from neck to hairline. Both Jim and Karen held their tongues but indicated the negative.

“And Jim, the report says you got out of the car, handed Officer Redmond the keys, and asked him to park it for you? Did those things happen?”

During the last query, while Fisk’s voice climbed in pitch with sheer incredulity, Karen and Jim had gone from shaking their heads to nodding in unison.

“So you admit you were operating a police vehicle?”

“But Boss, we totally missed the pedestrian.” Jim and Karen said together.

[Dreamfire]

Inspired by Barb's game:

Princess Silverhorn

"Gee, thanks for working that one out for me, Dreamfire. " Jim said. He turned away,"Princess? I'm no Princess..."


"Not a Princess? You sure about that Jim?" said Sugar Heaven Whip, his partner who knew him well.


"Good game you found, Sugar Leathertush!" Bambi Heaven Dazzle couldn't stop sniggering at The Blonde Detective's new monika.

The new Royal heaved a sigh of relief at the end of the day and headed off for some well earned rest.

"I rather like it, Horn. I think you're royalty. Does that make me a Princess too? Or a Prince?" asked Lola Silver Horn, wondering if she could now add HRH to alter her byline.


But not everyone accepted the changes with such equanimity. After secreting a small pea under his boss's mattress..."I never signed up to work with a princess. And if he tries to put diamonds on my collar I'm gonna bite him!" grumbled Heidi Chesty Spank


"This way Princess Silver Horn...."


"Argh!"


Oh, no it was just a dream. Jim Dunbar, Detective Jim Dunbar, my name is JIM DUNBAR!


But in the morning the train smelled like a pumkin...

And people were acting strange...
"What's going on?"


When a brave officer explained the other detetcive was courtesying ...


"Boss, There's got to be a mistake, at least Prince, not princess?"


"I'll just check the personnel Files for you Jim.... Mmmm." Sugar Lusty Heat shook his head sadly, for he knew what he would find.


"I'm afraid it's official. Chief Ridge has sent out a memo. And no starting fights Jim... ah err, Princess."



Dazzle watched his partner, wondering how long it would before violence errupted.


"Where you been, Pumkin slow turning into a coach this morning, Princess?"


And once he started he wouldn't stop.
"Why the grumpy face, pea under your mattress last night, Princess?"





"So how's it working out for you? Think I could try the royalty thing, if I changed my name?" Sugar Silver Sparkle asked quietly. Very interested to know if the change had given the blonde detective any new privilidges or powers.

"No, Marty Sparkle , I am NOT going to knight you."

"What I don't get is why it's Princess and not Prince?"


"I'm The Whip and this is..."

"Like, totally a Princess?"




"Karen, why couldn't you say Detetcive Dunbar, just like you always have?"


"Well, as cops, we have to , you know, be honest with the public."


'Changing your phone number is one thing, but you changed you NAME to try and lose me?" Montana Leather Ridge always shows up at the worst times.







"No Kids, the Princess can't stop for autographs now, he's got a perp to catch."


"Who? Could you repeat that name, I thought you said-"


"Just let us in." Silver Horn said through gritted teeth as he fingered his weapon.



"Yeah, I think it's pretty funny too, Sugar."


"But he's serious about it, so you better not dis his name."


"No, really, I think it suits you, Detective Princess-"


"Don't call me that, scumbag!"


"You can't hit a suspect just for using your name! Silver Horn."


"I found out how put him up to it," Whip revealed the traitor.


"I'm not going to strangle Marty, I'm not going to strangle Marty."


"So how has your day been, Princess?" Lola tried to calm her embattled royal.




"Princess? Well, he's pretty enough-"



"Hey, Guess who made the front page?"


It was the last straw...

That's it, I'm going to shoot the next person who calls me Princess.

Plain Horn, or Silver Horn, is okay but NO MORE PRINCESS!!"

[rducasey]

Natasha strikes again! Very funny, and so fast. Thanks for the laugh.

[Katryna]

N...I loved it! Karma.

[Deleted]

THAT is freaking hilarious!!!!!!! And to think, I inspired it......*swoon* - I'm so moved.......

[Dreamfire]

Glad you enjoyed it, it was a bit of fun. But here's the real Vignette I did for this week:

Return to old times

Kyle’s feet slowed of their own accord as he passed the old bar. He’d had a long day and needed to get home, but he knew Felicity would be asleep and mad at him for being late, frowning even as she slept. The mind numbing effect of his job began to fade, the pain of disappointing her, of being unworthy of her, wiggled under his awareness, ready to emerge back into life.

It was Kyle Forsyck’s first week back in New York after two years of overseas assignments. He squared his shoulders, trying to relieve the weight of a lifetime of living in this city. He thought he was returning a new man, a self made man who could step up to the plate and make a few home runs, but now, as he walked the familiar streets, it was as if his two years away were a two week holiday already fading from memory. The sensations of being a very small fish in a large and dangerous sea were back full strength. He shivered and curved his shoulders against a blast of New York’s freeze dried air, which somehow still managed to chill the hurriedly grabbed dog he’d eaten from the cart outside his office building on his way.

Then, it had been a warm fuzzy reminder of days before Felicity’s hard and fast rules on food: now, it was a cold lump icing his gut. He wondered if she would know just by the smell on his breath. Like she had always known when he had had even one drink, no matter how many burning breath mints he sucked. He owed it to her to make the best of himself, not return to his old persona just because he was back in New York town. If he got home late enough she wouldn’t ask about the promotion and he wouldn’t have to lie.

Kyle hadn’t had a drink for two years, and more importantly he hadn’t had a drink in the last two weeks, but tonight he wasn't sure he could go home without an anesthetic. He walked faster to generate some heat, eyes down to the pavement so he wouldn’t even be tempted by his old watering hole as he stalked past.

Light from the bar’s windows spilled onto the street, golden and warm in the cold night air. One drink wouldn’t hurt. It was the mulltitude that had drowned him. He stopped, something was definitely calling him in there, and you know how it is with nature, if you don’t heed her call, she starts to shout. So he stopped, retraced his steps and took the first rise up to his old watering hole.

The door swung open as someone made to leave, glowing with warmth and the generosity of well being. The man laughed and turned, throwing a joke back through the door and receiving a good bout of laughter as reward. Kyle fed off the reward as if it were his own. The man spotted Kyle standing at the foot of the stairs and stopped the door from swinging closed behind him. You’ll warm up in there, his eyes said as they smiled down benignly.

Kyle stepped over this year’s resolution and last year’s blew away, unnoticed. The man nodded approvingly and went on his way.

Kyle’s first breath of warm air filled him, and the knot between his shoulder blades began to unwind. The frown he had become accustomed to wearing, creaked uncomfortably. He felt his picture of the world, and his place in it, shuffle, as memories flipped by. In the old days, when the pressure mounted, when he felt he was being squashed by obligations and expectations, he would find respite here, under the dimmed lights, amid the laughter and the numbing effects of other people’s woes.

The bartender was a new face, but the lighting was the same, the furniture unreplaced and the burble of conversation was like a lullaby. Some things, he thought, you can count on to never ever change. The returned New Yorker drank in the atmosphere gratefully, and his step lightened with his rising mood. He felt the cards of fate shuffling, ready to deal him a better hand. His resistance diminished further, and a smile lurked, looking for an excuse to take over.

And there it was. Kyle spotted the blonde head of his old friend Jimmy Dunbar at his usual spot, hanging over a beer. Jackpot! Kyle’s brooding was banished – replaced by the mischievous sense of humor that had gotten him and his old time buddy into trouble so many times before. The smile bloomed on his face and a familiar camaraderie flowed into his veins. The pent up breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, blew out of him in a long slow, whistle.

Like an eight year old up to tricks, he snuck the few steps to the bar, making sure he made no sound and keeping out of Jimmy’s line of sight. He stifled his laugh, leaned over and spoke in a loud authoritative voice, “And don’t you sleep with my wife, you bastard!”

The look on Jimmy’s face was worth every penny of a million bucks! Kyle whooped in triumph as Jimmy almost jumped through the roof. His bar stool started to topple and Kyle helped it the rest of the way, laughing proudly at his result – Jimmy Dunbar on his ass on the floor and gaping like a goldfish.

“Kyle? Kyle Forsyck?” A dog nuzzled Jimmy’s face, clearly worried, and then looked up reproachfully at Kyle.

Kyle’s laugh dried up in his still-open mouth. An icy hand dug its fingers into his tender stomach. He lurched back, looked at the door he’d just walked through, and then swiveled his eyes back to his old friend. Kyle saw the dark glasses open on the bar despite the late hour, the harnessed guide dog, and Jimmy glaring in his general direction but not at him directly. Was this proof that he should never have entered the bar?

It was Jimmy and Jimmy waited, on his ass, on the dirty bar floor, for Kyle to say something to do something. Kyle couldn’t just leave him there and run, but…The cards begun shuffling in his head again, but this time, instead of settling into a hand he could bet on, they fell around him, some face up, some face down, chaos extremos. The floor beneath his feet was on fire and he needed to move or he would be engulfed. Sweat beaded his brow.

“Kyle?” Jimmy was angry now, demanding an answer, but Kyle’s words were mired in the ice of his stomach, and it took everything he had just to reach down and take Jimmy’s questing hand in his and pull him to his feet. “Kyle? Will you f*cking say something, man?” Jimmy thumped his friend on the back as he had done a thousand times before.

Kyle fought his desire to flee and won. “I… I… Jimmy…I...”

The bartender assessed the situation in front of him. Jim was okay, but the white faced stranger who stood staring - he looked like a candidate for a heart transplant. “You need a hand, Jim?”

Jim turned part way, “No, John, it’s fine, just an old friend of mine playing a practical joke.”

“Looks like the joke’s turned on him, Jim, he’s white as milk.” The bartender muttered, shaking his head. “I’ll get him a drink.’

Jim pulled the bar stool back up and put his friend’s hand on the seat. “Here, sit.”

John, the bartender, kept an eye on his regular, but Jim was a guy who could look after himself. Despite the surprise he must have had when this guy tipped him out of his stool, he seemed in control of the situation.

~

A few hours, a number of whiskey doubles with beer chasers and a lifetime later, Kyle watched Jimmy’s smile as he explained. “No one else in the world could ever say those words in just that way. No matter how many irate husbands there might be out there.”

“So, just from my voice?”

“And I don’t know anyone else who would walk up and tip me out of my stool, like that,” Jimmy added.

“Hey, man. I’m-“

“No.” Jim stopped him with a hand up in front of his face, “Don’t go there, don’t even think about it. If I get one wiff of pity from you, you’re history.”

Kyle nodded, taking a swig from his beer.

“You nodding?” Jim asked.

Kyle’s beer sprayed the whole way across the table, to Jim's face.

Jim pulled back in disgust and wiped it with his sleeve. “Christ, whada ya doin’?”

“Decide, Jimmy boy, decide because you’re confusing me.”

“What?”

“You’re using one breath to tell me to forget the fact that you’re as blind as a bat and then reminding me about it in the next.”

Jim looked reproachful, but Kyle had hit the nail on the head. He wanted it both ways, the old relationship with no differences, and to be accommodated quietly and without prompting. He laughed. “Alright, alright. You’re right.”

“So, which way?”

“Let’s try the forget the fact way. Worst thing that can happen - I’ll end up driving you home when you’ve had too much to drink, like I’ve done a hundred times before.” Jim lifted his beer, “You still driving the roadster?”

[matilda]

Noice, Ash. You are cracker matey. Tks.

Tilda

[maggiethecat]

People, people, people! When you start a new fic thread, will all authors please then start a discussion thread for same? That way the fic can be read without interruption, and stay archived, so to speak.

I don't have the time right now, so karma for whoever starts a Vignettes discussion thread, and then will those who have posted comments here move their posts into it? If I move individual posts they will all be under my avatar, which is no fun, right?

Thanks!

Maggie the Housekeeper

[Dreamfire]

A quick, lighthearted unbeta'd vignette...

Larger than Life
or
Why Karen can’t keep a guy.

Maurice arrived at the 8th Precinct and followed Karen’s directions, looking for the Homicide squad. Serious looking men and women in dark blue uniforms eyed him like an interloper. He reminded himself he was in the same department, and at a higher level, and pressed the button to take him to the second floor.

Alone in the elevator he checked himself in the mirror, teeth clean, suit open, he pulled his tie off and loosened his button, he wanted to look casual, a bit cool. He’d specially worn his brown suit today, he felt it made him look more tanned and thinner too.

He turned left at the vending machines and walked to a small latched gate. Despite an entire wall of windows, the room beyond the barrier appeared to be in shadow. It felt more like midnight here. Something had robbed the space of the daylight look. Maurice fancied that here, in the homicide squad, New York’s dark side was never banished. Small desk lamps created pools of light that somehow made the whole room feel even darker. To his right, two men sat at their desks, in silence, reading files. There was a somber vibe in the air, as if very important things were going down. Ah there, he spotted Karen, seated behind the men, the light from her desk reflected up into her face and off her hair. Golden highlights, warm skin he yearned to touch; she was the only sunshine in a room where fluorescence ruled. Maurice was entranced for a moment. He stood, hand on the gate, just looking.

Then he noticed the men were no longer reading files. Instead they had their eyes on him. He shifted on his feet and went to straighten his tie, belatedly remembering he wasn't wearing one. The men looked at him with blank stares. He shifted his attention from them, back to Karen but she hadn’t noticed him yet. He loathed to be the one to break the silence.

“Karen, I think Maurice is here to see you.”

Maurice started and almost stepped back, his heart beating loudly in his ears. The voice, quiet as it was, had come from nowhere. Squinting into the gloom, Maurice could see that in fact there was a third man in the room. He sat at the desk next to Karen’s, directly in front of where Maurice stood, but the light on his desk wasn't on; he was in complete shadow. He continued to type, head erect, staring straight at Maurice, it was creepy. As Maurice finally put a name to the voice, his heart rate finally made a u turn and headed back toward normal. This was Detective Dunbar; the one who had asked Maurice to check out a business for money laundering – they’d had several conversations over the phone. And he remembered belatedly, Dunbar was Karen’s partner on the street.

“Um, yes, Hi.” Maurice gave a little wave at Karen and unlatched the gate. He wasn't sure of protocol, did he need to be invited in or could he just step through?

“Hey Maurice, let me introduce you to my squad.” Karen gave him a welcoming smile as she left her desk. She came around and opened the little gate for him, he stepped through and she took his arm in her hand. His temperature rose several degrees at the touch of her hand on his arm and he wished he had taken his jacket off and rolled his sleeves up. She led him to the right to where the two men had been reading files.

“This is Tom Selway.”

A tall, muscled black man stood up and towered over Maurice. Maurice put his hand in the black man’s, watching as his disappeared and then felt the blood run from his face as his fingers started to die. He was distracted from his pain by the man’s gravelly voice. “Good to finally meet you. I hear you’ve been calling Karen regularly.” Looking up at Detective Selway, Maurice felt like he was being accused of committing a misdemeanor.

“Ah, yeah. But we haven’t actually gone out before. Well, before tonight anyway.” As soon as Detective Selway released it, Maurice flexed his hand behind his back, hoping to restore some circulation.

“Okay.” This seemed to be the answer the big man was after because he sat back down. But the frown stayed on his face and his eyes tracked Maurice.

Karen seemed oblivious to the intimidation occurring right in front of her. Maurice chided himself for his momentary weakness and pushed a metaphorical steel rod up his own spine. He was being introduced to the second man.

“This is Marty Russo.”

A dark haired, handsome man of thirty-something years swung lazily back in his chair and gazed at Maurice for what felt like an inordinate amount of time. A rabbit caught in the spotlight had more choice of action than Maurice had at that point and it seemed he only breathed again when the detective finally stood and held out his hand. At least it was a regular size. Maurice took it, intending to pump it with vigor but found it didn’t move an inch. The hand was like a steel trap. It had no give in it at all. Maurice resisted the urge to squirm under an icy gaze from the too dark eyes.

“So, you thinking of dating our Karen, are you?” While Detective Marty Russo’s smile was cold, his eyes burned into Maurice’s as if trying to read his soul.

Maurice nodded, not confident that his dry mouth would work if he attempted a witty reply. He had to look away. When he managed to look back again, Detective Russo still glared disapprovingly but at least he allowed Maurice his hand back.

Maurice felt his self image slipping, he cleared his throat. He had to take some action, right now, to reassert himself. He turned to the man behind the last desk, determined to show Karen he was not intimidated.

“You must be Jim Dunbar?” Maurice said.

From the heavy shadow of his desk, the third man stepped forward toward Maurice, gave him a charming smile and extended his hand. As Maurice took it in his own he was pleasantly surprised. Not too firm, not soft, and he let go in a relatively short time. At least Dunbar didn’t repeat the earlier silent threats to never return the offered hand.

And the smile was genuine, warm and it made it to the man’s eyes. Now that he had stepped out from behind his desk Maurice could see Karen’s partner properly. He was taller than Maurice, almost stocky and blonde, the sort of blonde that normally went with blue eyes and an inability to hide a blush. Somehow he couldn’t imagine this man blushing very often. And it was too dark in the room to make out the man’s eye color.

“Nice to meet you Maurice, thanks for that help you gave us. We appreciate it.”

“Well, I hope it helped the case. As I said, I couldn’t find anything on it.” Maurice shrugged, Detective Dunbar had explained that it was a sensitive case and that they needed discretion in their enquires. Maurice had been very fast, very thorough and had found nothing linking the money to any illegal activities. “And I enjoy a little extra-curricular work.”

“I’d be happy to recommend you.”

“Thank you, thank you very much, Detective Dunbar.” Maurice grinned up at Jim, very much impressed. None of the rumors he had heard about Dunbar seemed true.

“Give me a moment, will you, Maurice?” She touched her partner’s arm and whispered something in his ear. He nodded, excused himself and they disappeared down the corridor together.

The big black detective stretched out of his seat and went into a room behind him.

“Why don’t you take a seat, Maurice.” Detective Russo with the cold smile, stayed in his chair and indicated the one opposite Jim's and about two feet away from Russo himself.

Maurice sat, a little nervous, these violent crime type detectives were a far cry from white collar cops he was used to. He had started his police life IT and only recently moved to investigations, but none of his colleagues were anything like these guys. He smiled weakly when Marty leaned forward, elbows on his knees and spoke in a gravelly deep whisper. “I look at Karen like a sister.”

Maurice nodded.

“If anything should happen to her, I’d make it my business to investigate the cause of her upset.” Russo watched Maurice’s eyes try to escape his gaze. “You know what I mean?”

Maurice nodded and swallowed. This guy was like the godfather.

“I don’t mean hurt, like physically, you know? We got her back on that.” Marty indicated Jim’s desk and Tom’s. “She’s a homicide detective so we have to be very vigilant in that way. I mean hurt her emotionally.” Marty smiled his cold smile. “She’s our girl, what can I say?” He held out his hands, as if apologizing.

Maurice nodded again. Russo stared at him for a long time.

“Just so long as we understand each other.” Marty stood, patted Maurice on the shoulder and walked out of the squad.

Maurice sat for a minute, calmed his heart and nearly jumped out of his skin when someone touched him on the shoulder. He turned to see the black detective had returned.

“Sorry, man. Did I scare you?”

“No, yes, I mean, it’s okay. I didn’t see you, that’s all.” Maurice stumbled over his words. Where was Karen? He really, really wanted to get out of here now.

Detective Selway just looked at him. Then he returned to his desk. Took out a file and began reading. Every now and then he’d look up at Maurice, say nothing and then go back to reading.

Karen and the blonde man came down the hall together, talking quietly. They had donned overcoats and the light behind them cast long shadows. To Maurice it seemed they filled the whole corridor. Was everyone in this squad larger than life? They stopped near the gate. Detective Dunbar turned toward him. “Maurice, Karen tells me you’re taking her to Pelligrino’s?”

“That’s right.” Maurice hoped introductions were now over and he could get on with his date.

“Mm, great food. It’s near Hester right?” Dunbar asked, his voice light, his smile genuine.

“Yeah, on Mulberry.” Maurice decided he liked this one. He wasn't as intimidating as the other two, kind of gentle.

“It’s on my way, and I’m heading off now too. Would it offended you if I walked with you?”

“No, not at all.” Maurice stood again, relieved he’d be out of this place in just a moment.

“Thanks.”

Maurice jumped as Jim slapped his thigh loudly and a big German Sheppard shot out from nowhere, past Maurice and to the detective’s side. No one else reacted.

Maurice watched fascinated as the detective slid his hand down the dog’s back and took up a handle attached to a harness the dog was wearing. It took long moments for the information to kick in. Then Maurice remembered Karen mentioning that Detective Dunbar was visually impaired, so this must be his guide dog. Maurice liked dogs. See, he told himself, the guy even likes dogs, he can’t be too tough if he likes dogs. He wondered if he could reel out a joke about the dog to make a connection to Karen’s partner. There was that one about the guide dog and the bar…

Detective Selway stood up, he looked toward Maurice as if he expected him to say something about Dunbar’s dog. Maurice’s joke melted from his head and the icy rivulets ran down his spine.

Maurice looked to Karen, had she seen him jump? Seen him back down from the black man’s gaze? Next to the men in her squad he felt like cooked spaghetti; they were so… manly… so sure of themselves, he was just a regular guy. But she gave him a warm smile and held out her arm so she could link with his. She was so beautiful and tonight she was going out with him.

“Come on, I’m starving.” She drew him in close and her partner and his guide dog stepped in behind, like a rear guard.

“I could eat a horse, Maurice. We had to chase a perp today, I reckon we ran five miles!” Karen sounded very animated.

They stepped into the elevator and Maurice caught a glimpse of Dunbar. The man was now wearing dark glasses, but behind them Maurice was sure he saw the edges of an indulgent smile.

“Five miles?” Maurice prompted Karen as they exited the elevator and the precinct house.

“Well, okay, maybe not. How far would you estimate, Jim?”

“No more than two, Karen.” Jim corrected her gently, like a big brother.

“Anyhow, that chase gave me a big appetite. You find that, Maurice? Chasing bad guys gives you an appetite?”

They stopped at a cross road, the traffic sped past and Maurice watched as Detective Dunbar followed his dog up and stopped next to them.

The traffic changed and Dunbar waved his hand forward. “Walk.” He commanded the dog quietly. The dog seemed to notice Maurice watching and turned toward him, his teeth glinting in the car headlights.

“Ah, sure, I get an appetite chasing criminals.” Maurice had never thought of it that way, he was more of a computer jockey than a street cop.

“Karen, Maurice doesn’t have to chase criminals. I bet, he follows his trail of numbers and when he gets his answer it’s a matter of a warrant and a visit to the intended prisoner, complete with a uniformed escort.”

Maurice was appalled, that was exactly what it was like, and next to chasing gun wielding criminals down the back alleys – how on earth had this man done that today? – it sounded weak.

“And Karen, you and I, the scum we put away, compared to the big names Maurice get’s to track down…” The bigger man shook his head, “Maurice is doing so much, and it’s so … efficient, and…” he seemed to search for the word, “elegant.”

Hmm, elegant, efficient. It didn’t sound too bad when put like that.

“Well, here’s my turn off.” Dunbar and his dog stood at the corner. He held out his hand again and Maurice shook it. “Enjoy your night.”

“Thank you.”

Karen let go of Maurice’s arm and went over to her partner. They conferred for a moment, then she smiled. “See you tomorrow, Jim.” And she returned to Maurice’s side.

“He’s an amazing man.” Maurice said to Karen as they continued along.

“He sure is.”

“But…” Maurice was unsure how to proceed. He didn’t want to offend Karen but he was curious. “How does he do it, I mean chasing perps, arresting people?”

Karen stopped and turned to Maurice. “The first week we were partnered up, Jim saved my life. Sure I was a bit skeptical at first, but, hell, he’s a man, and that’s what men do, right? I can no more imagine him sitting behind a desk all day than I can imagine Hank playing with children.”

Maurice looked confused. “Hank?”

“Oh, Jim's dog. Can you see him playing with children? We had a case once, where a man tried to attack Jim and I, Hank was onto him in a split second, had him on his back and was about to rip out his throat. Luckily for him, Jim commanded him to stop.” Karen shook her head. “As it was he needed dozens of stitches.”

“But he’s a guide dog right?”

Karen smiled, “Yep, and also a k-9 officer, trained at the academy and everything.” She laughed, “I can’t see Jim with just a normal guide dog, can you?”

Maurice shook his head, they’d arrived at the restaurant and he was ready to get off the subject of her superhero partner, the one member of the squad, Maurice had not previously felt intimidated by.

They sat in a booth in the traditional Italian place. The food was great. She must have chased that perp. today because her appetite was very healthy. He asked her for stories about her job, enjoying the way her eyes lit up as she retold adventures of arresting a man who had killed his uncle, a couple who had faked the husband’s death for the insurance money and other enthralling stories. It was a little annoying to hear about the heroism of her partner and the other detectives all the time but he managed to tune out of a lot of that, just watching the light shine on her hair, her quick hands moving as she spoke, and the sparkle in her eye. He sighed, she was wonderful. It was like having a superhero of his very own.

Midway through dinner, after a few red wines, Maurice got the idea Karen was really warming toward him. He let his hand slip casually to her thigh under the table and felt the thrill of her muscle tightening. She smiled at him and asked if he would order more wine.

While he was doing that she slipped away to powder her nose. She returned, pushed her meal away and looked over the desert menu. He’d heard women with healthy appetites also had appetites for other things and looked forward to the end of the night, imagining the walk to her home, a good night kiss, and perhaps an invitation in…

Maurice almost knocked the wine over as he returned from his musings, brought back by a shrill chirping from under the table.

“Oh, sorry, Maurice, it’s my pager, just a minute.” She pulled out her cell phone and dialed.

“Yes, fine, no problem. I’ll have to bring, Maurice. Yes.”

“We going somewhere?”

“Yes, there’s been a homicide and I’m up next so, I have to go. But, if you come we can maybe go to desert afterward? Jim will meet me there and once we’ve covered the scene, I can probably hand it over to him until the morning.”

“Sure, whatever.”

Maurice paid the bill, feeling a little excited. He’d been a pseudo cop for a long time now, but he’d never been to a homicide scene. His crime scenes usually involved half destroyed books of neatly printed numbers or elegant offices with hidden computer systems. He might even get to see blood spilled in anger.

Out on the street, Karen held up one hand and whistled shrilly, he noticed she had her badge in the hand that had hailed the cab. He expected her to get in the back, but she opened the front door and slid in. Maurice blinked, the back door opened on its own. “Get in Maurice, we don’t have time to waste.” A voice ordered from inside the dark cab.

He slid into the back seat and almost jumped straight out again – Hank sat in the centre of the seat – and Dunbar was just beyond. “Close the door Maurice.” Jim spoke pleasantly, but Jim found his arm obeying without any conscious thought. The cab sped off. How had she hailed that particular cab? It must have been arranged in that phone call. Hank's eyes glittered as he turned to Maurice, there was no reassurance from Dunbar's reflecting lenses. Maurice settled into his seat, feeling like a leaf that had been washed into a turbulent river.

In some kind of code Maurice couldn't follow, Jim filled Karen in on the details they had so far. Maurice caught the odd word here and there. They were going to a very dangerous part of town. Apparently a man had been found, ex-sanguinated. That meant blood right?

The ride was short, Dunbar and Hank were out of the cab and around to Karen’s side before Maurice managed to extricate himself from the seat belt and get out of the car. He emerged to a confusion of patrol vehicles with lights flashing, an ambulance sitting open with two medical personnel lounging around in the back, yellow tape stretched across the alleyway entrance and someone hauling lights and setting them on stands around the street.

“You need to stay back, okay Maurice? I won’t be too long and then we can get back to our date.” Karen looked him deep in the eye and he was reminded of the stares of Detectives Russo and Selway earlier that night. She meant business; he’d stay out of the way.

Dunbar and Karen stood with their heads together, conversing. Maurice stepped closer to listen. She was describing the scene in great detail, he was nodding, asking questions.

A tall, balding man in a tan trench coat stalked up and brushed past Maurice, acting like he owned the place. Maurice felt irritated on Karen’s behalf. She was the detective in charge right? What was he doing stalking around like that?

“Karen, Jim, what we got?” the tall man asked, then glared at Maurice. Maurice stepped back. Jim and Karen spoke at length, then the tall man raise his chin in Maurice’s direction. “And who’s that?”

“Karen’s date, Boss.” Dunbar answered. “He’s with the Financial Crimes unit at 1PP.”

“That’s alright then.” The tall man sent Maurice a tight smile and a nod.

Maurice joined Karen in a blush, it was her Boss, and there Maurice had been considering how he could put the man in his place.

~