Part 8
Nightfall had seen the visitors leaving the Blaisdell home. Kelly had gone home with her sister.
Odors of steak cooking on the range and a cake rising in the oven drifted into the living room, waking not only Peter, but also his stomach. Sitting up was difficult and painful, but the smells were very enticing.
"Glad to see that you're awake." Kermit's familiar voice held a touch of amusement. "I was getting bored watching you sleep. Besides, Annie won't let us eat till you're awake."
Kermit helped Peter to a sitting position, not watching the younger man's face as it contorted with pain from the movements of torn muscles. He then placed the serving tray over Peter. The injured man would not be able to eat at the table, so the family had decided to take the meal to the living room. The trays were a reminder from the last time Peter had recuperated at home.
"Oh, good. I was hoping you were up." Paul came into the room. "Hope you're hungry, son. Annie fixed all your favorite foods. I think maybe I should invest in a grocery store franchise."
Smiling, Peter looked at his father and remembered what they had last talked about. Maybe it was a dream. Maybe Paul really hadn't asked Peter to work with him and Kermit. Pushing aside that fear, Peter pasted a smile on his face. "I want to know if anyone really does like hospital food."
Both standing men laughed. "Let me go fix your plate. Annie is going to let us eat in here with you. Kermit, if you'll finish getting the tables up, we'll eat in a minute."
The meal was shared with talk of news from the precinct and Chinatown. Afterward, Paul took the dishes into the kitchen where Annie put them into the dishwasher. She ushered her husband out of the kitchen and back into the living room, saying she had dessert to prepare.
"You ready for our first case?" Paul asked Kermit, aware that Peter still hadn't answered the question of whether he wanted to work with them. It had to be his son's own idea, he knew.
"I have the file right here. I just don't like the idea of not telling Karen about it," Kermit answered, retrieving a folder from the desk. "The bombing in Chinatown just occurred this morning."
"I know, but we can't let anyone know until the Mayor announces it in the morning, or before we have read over the background of the case. That was one of her additions to our contract." Paul reached for the file and quickly glanced at Peter to make sure he was listening. "OK, we have two bombings that have one thing in common. In each case arson investigators turned up pieces of case shelling, the type they used in World War ll."
"Sort of makes tracking down the culprit a little hard, doesn't it?" Kermit remarked.
"H-How do they get the bomb there?" Peter asked hesitantly. His tongue often did things his brain told him not to do.
Chuckling inwardly, Paul made a note to himself to give Kermit five dollars on the bet on how long it would take Peter to get into the case. Paul had said at least thirty minutes. Kermit had bet only five. Being Shaolin had not curbed Peter's curiosity.
"They don't know. From what the fire marshal says, the building is completely destroyed, leaving little evidence of an entry point," Kermit answered. "Also, very few witnesses. The ones who did survive refuse to talk to the police."
"You need someone who isn't a cop to talk to them," Peter interjected as he reached for the papers Kermit and Paul had been reading.
"You have anyone particular in mind?" Paul asked innocently.
Peter looked up sheepishly. He now knew that Paul had been serious about him working with the investigation and that his father had somehow already finagled him into it. "What about me?"
"Are you sure?" Kermit asked, earning a cold stare from Paul.
"Well, I don't have anything better to do, so might as well help," Peter answered, happy for the first time in months.
The rest of the evening passed with the three men discussing their first case as members of the Falcon Detective Agency while enjoying the cake Annie had been decorating.
***
Strenlich stalked into the squad room and threw a folder down on Dakota's desk. "Guess you two heard about the explosion at Red Lobster yesterday."
Skalany handed her partner the extra cup of coffee she had poured for him. "Yeah, news last night said the fire marshal hadn't ruled it arson yet."
"They have now. The Mayor wants answers today." Frank's voice was matter of fact. Life as a cop had hardened him to the cruelties of the world.
"Why the push?" Dakota asked. "It's not like we don't have other cases that need to be solved first."
"The Governor's niece was killed in the one yesterday," Captain Simms said, coming out of her office.
"The fire marshal sent over everything he had. It's not much," Strenlich added.
Taking a deep breath, Captain Simms then dropped her own bombshell. "Due to the lack of witnesses and information, along with the high crime rate we seem to be suffering, and the number of victims involved, the Mayor has hired a special group to help with the investigation of the bombing. They will also be investigating the other bombing that happened at a body shop on the east side of town."
Dumbfounded, the three detectives sat in silence, obviously wondering what was going on. Skalany was the first to regain the use of her tongue. "Since when did the city started hiring out to mercenaries?"
"Since about 8 yesterday morning," Kermit answered, having overheard the conversation from his office. "Besides, not all of them are mercenaries. One of them was never a mercenary and all of them have police experience."
Brushing her dark curls behind her ears, Mary Margaret grinned. "And let me guess...that one's a priest."
Lowering his sunglasses, Kermit's only reply was "Oh, yeah."
"Lady and gentlemen, I believe we should move this conversation to my office. Detective Griffin, I assume you will be accompanying us." The chilled words hit Kermit.
His response was a look of confusion. Kermit had meant to tell her last night, but Paul had decided to keep their agency secret for now even from the woman he loved, causing Kermit to break off his date with Karen. For her to get the news of a private investigation team helping with several unclosed cases, including the most recent bombing, from the Mayor was a slap in the face. He understood the way she felt and made a note to apologize properly later.
Karen leaned against the edge of her desk, her arms crossed across her chest, as Skalany and Dakota sat in the chairs opposite the desk. Frank stood next to the file cabinet after closing the door, while Kermit leaned against the back wall where he could stare at Karen without the others knowing what he was doing.
"The Mayor told me that this group will be working with the officers on the case. The Falcon Detective Agency will not be mentioned to the papers. Very few people know it has a contract with the city."
Dakota thumped the chair with a closed fist. "I don't see why we need outsiders to help us with this. Personally, I think it is a slap in the face to the department."
Keeping her tone cool, Simms looked at Mary Margaret, assessing how the detective felt about the new investigators. Not getting any hint of a response, Karen glared again at Kermit. "Well, the Mayor feels that since one of the victims from the bombing was from a very politically prestigious family a more covert operation is needed. This...agency...will be headed by Paul Blaisdell."
Frank coughed in an attempt to hide his surprise. "And I suppose he has Peter in on this and you too, Kermit."
"Ah, yes. The department's intermediary will be Detective Griffin," Simms confirmed. "So, would you like to tell us what is expected of us and your role in this?"
Four pairs of eyes turned to Kermit. The anger Dakota felt over his authority being usurped was evident in his coal black eyes. Skalany's dark brown eyes were soft and non-judgmental. Frank's cold stare was his usual look so Kermit couldn't read him.
"Look, I know what it's like to have outsiders come in and take over. That is not what is going to happen. There are just some things that the agency can do that cops can't. Well, not legally anyway. Looking at all the victims, there doesn't seem to be a connection, but…" Kermit walked over to the desk, forgetting about the ire the others felt. "When we started digging last night, Peter came up with an idea. There have been several bombings around the world that have left behind very little evidence. Peter is talking to witnesses…"
"There are no witnesses," Dakota interjected. "They all died. Those who were outside won't tell anything either."
"Ah, but you went in as a cop looking for the obvious. Even before he quit the force, Peter's special talent was his intuition. Paul is calling contacts in the agency and I am searching the net."
"So, we just sit back and let you three do our jobs? I don't think so." Dakota stood, his dark tan skin growing darker. "I'm a cop, damn it, and I'll do what I am paid to do."
"Dakota, we aren't taking over. Do you think that I'd get answers if I walked onto the reservation to investigate a crime?" Kermit asked, sliding his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose.
"No. My people don't trust cops or the white man." Finally understanding where Kermit was coming from, Dakota sat down. "So, what do we do?"
"Go back over all the evidence. Contact the other departments about the bombings they have had. One thing we know for sure is the type of casing that was used. It's from a World War II shell. Captain, we'd like to meet with everyone soon. Can we use the interrogation room?"
In Karen's mind she agreed with Kermit's logic. In her heart she cursed him for leaving her out of this. "Very well, then. Set up the meet and let me know. Dismissed." Karen didn't look at her officers as they filed out of the office. Instead, she walked around to her chair, picked up paper and pen, and began writing. Feeling the hard stare at her head, she looked up, knowing who remained in the room. "What can I help you with, Detective?"
"Karen, don't do this." Kermit walked over and closed the door. The frosty look he got from his lover and boss made him glad he wore the protective lenses. The closer he came to her, the more he saw the icy stare dissolve. "We had to keep it a secret until everything was finalized. Damn it, look at me."
She couldn't look at him without the fragile barrier she had erected completely falling. The words on the document she held ran together and blurred, but Kermit didn't move.
"I'm doing this for us. You have to believe me. Can we talk about this tonight?"
Finding the anger that had fled so quickly moments ago, she voiced her thoughts through clenched teeth. "We could have talked about this last night. Now you have a job to do, so go do it and leave me alone."
Seeing that he wouldn't get anywhere with her right now, Kermit gave in and turned to go.
Watching as the man who had captured her heart walked toward the door, shoulders slumped, Karen called out, "Meet me at Delancy's at 6." The telltale skip in his step made her smile. They would work this out.
***
"The target was eliminated, Mr. Benson," Wilson advised his incarcerated boss. "A line has been established overseas for the next target."
"And what about the police, Paul Blaisdell, and his family?" Benson paced the cubicle, secure in the knowledge that the police were honoring his right to privacy. This room was used for lawyers and their clients to confer. Wilson's status as Benson's lawyer had been very convenient.
"The police are still watching for anyone suspicious, but they have no leads. I am attempting to put a plant in the 101st Precinct. As for Mr. Blaisdell and his son, we have them under surveillance."
Benson turned quickly, anger simmering in his voice. "Don't make the mistake of thinking you are dealing with fools. I know Blaisdell well enough to say he can smell a tail. I'm also sure he has passed his skill on to Caine. Stiles may have overstated Caine's ability as a priest, but there is no mistake about what Blaisdell and Griffin can do."
"Yes sir. Do you want me to file a second motion for bail?"
"I don't think so. Maybe with both Stiles and myself here, the police will lower their guard. I have the perfect alibi." The wicked laugh bellowed through the small room, sending a chill down Wilson's spine.
"Th-that leaves us with Blaisdell and son."
"Oh, come on, Wilson." Benson put his face only inches from Wilson's. "You're up to your eyeballs in this already. One more murder…or two…won't hurt. They can only gas you once."
Wilson could still hear his boss's laughter echoing down the corridor after signaling to the guard that he was ready to go.