The Card

CASCADE P.D. – MAJOR CRIMES – 9:30 a.m.

“Ellison!  Where’s my newest detective today?”

Jim Ellison looked up as Captain Banks approached his desk and fought back a smile.  “He’s not your newest detective, yet, Captain.  He doesn’t officially graduate from the Academy until next week.”  When Simon grunted, he continued, “He was going to take Mrs. Ryan to her doctor’s appointment this morning and then to the pharmacy.  He thought he’d drop by around lunchtime, though.”

“Mrs. Ryan?”  Simon Banks frowned for a second then nodded.  “That sweet old lady on the first floor?”

“Yeah, the one whose children never come around except at Christmas to pick up their gifts,” Jim sourly recalled.  “Ever since her husband died last year, she’s been pretty much alone.”

Simon grunted.  “I remember Sandburg’s rant the day after she had that water leak.”

Jim’s expression darkened.  “Poor woman called her daughter because her husband’s a plumber.  But they had a dinner party planned and couldn’t be bothered to come over.  Sandburg saw Mrs. Ryan trying to pick up a bucket full of water to take outside and dump in the gutter.  He ranted and raved so much that night I thought he was going to have a heart attack over it.”

Simon grinned.  “Of course that was after you and he fixed the problem, right?”

Jim uncomfortably shrugged.  “In my own defense, sir, I had to help Sandburg.”  He suddenly grinned in return.  “Can you imagine how much damage he’d do to himself with a pipe wrench?”

“Let’s commandeer one of the briefing rooms,” Simon suggested.  “I want your input on the proposed emergency evacuation and command procedures.”  He sighed as he started back to his office.  “I’ll get the files.”

Jim grinned when he heard Simon mutter, “Damn fools in administration think we have all the time in the world to do their job.”  Then he glanced over at Joel Taggart.  “Hey, Joel, I’ve no idea how long I’ll be tied up with Simon.  If Sandburg shows up later, make sure he’s had some lunch, will you?”

“He’s not eating?” Joel frowned.

Jim grabbed a writing tablet and two pens.  “He kinda got off schedule the last couple of weeks at the Academy.  Reminded me of the old days and final exam time at Rainier.”  ‘May it burn to the ground,’ Jim silently wished.  “I just want to make sure he’s back on a regular eating schedule before he comes on board.”

Joel fondly smiled.  “Got the final plans made for the celebration?”

Jim automatically glanced at the door even though he knew Blair was across the city.  “Everything’s done but finalizing the head count and that should be done this week.”

“Ellison!”

“I’ll make sure he eats,” Joel promised.

Jim nodded in Simon’s direction.  “Appreciate it, Joel.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 CASCADE P.D. – MAJOR CRIMES – 11:42 a.m.

“I had to get out of there, Joel,” Henri Brown angrily explained.  “If not, I was gonna throw that slimeball through the window.”

“Townsend’s not even trying to make a deal?” Joel sympathetically asked.

Henri shook his head and almost crushed the file in his hand.  “Rafe’s still talking to him, but he’s just not scared enough to trade Jackson down the river.  Man even signed a waiver saying he didn’t want an attorney.  That’s how cocky he is.”

Joel started to speak then jerked upright when the bullpen door was slammed open.  Both men watched in stunned astonishment as Blair Sandburg stalked across the bullpen and threw his backpack behind Jim’s desk.

“Sorry-assed sons-of-bitches…they don’t know who they’re dealing with,” Blair furiously muttered.

Henri and Joel exchanged anxious glances.

Blair looked around then focused on the two men across the room.  “Where’s Ellison?” he demanded.

“He’s in Briefing Room 3 with Simon going over some emergency…” Joel began.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Blair interrupted.  He wrathfully glared at Jim’s desk.  “Left me his paperwork, I see.”

“Well, I’m heading back to the interrogation room,” Henri quickly spoke.  “Maybe Rafe and I can think of some way to break Townsend.”

“Randy Townsend?  Max Jackson’s right-hand stooge?” Blair demanded. 

When Henri nodded, Blair walked to him and took the file from his hand.  As the two men watched, Blair flipped through the file, quickly reading the contents.  “Uh-huh….uh-huh…hmm….huh…”  He closed the file with a snap.  “Piece of cake.  I’ll break him.”  He walked back towards the interrogation rooms.  “Which room?”

“Uh…two…Sandburg…” Henri helplessly glanced at Joel then ran after Blair.

“Wait out here,” Blair crisply ordered.

Both Brian Rafe and Randy Townsend jumped when Blair slammed open the interrogation room door. 

“San…”

Blair glared at Rafe.  “Out.”

Rafe’s eyes widened at the cold tone in Blair’s voice but slowly obeyed.  “No problem,” he assured Blair as he passed him.  He closed the door and walked to the observation window.  Seeing only his partner, he frowned.  “Where’s Ellison?  I thought Blair was setting Townsend up.”  He glanced through the window to see Blair slam the file down on the table.  “What up with him?”

“Babe, I haven’t a clue,” Henri groaned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So you’re supposed to play the ‘bad cop’?” Townsend jeered.

“No, I’m the worse cop,” Blair snarled.  “Listen up, you jerk-off, ‘cause I don’t have the time or the inclination to repeat myself.”  He placed his hands on the table and leaned forward.  “You’re going to give us Jackson. You’re going to spill you guts on everything you know, and you’re going to tell the truth about it all.”

“I am, huh?  Why’s that?  Because you say so?” Townsend demanded.

Blair slowly smiled.  “Because I’m going to be following you…watching you…24 hours a day…seven days a week.  Every time you hit the can, I’ll know what you flush.  Every time you bed down some poor girl too scared to say no, I’ll watch how you do her.  I’ll know everything there is to know about you right from the time you first talked back to your momma when you were three to cheating on that math test when you were eleven.  I’ll know about the first penny you stole and every woman you raped.”

“That’s harassment!” Townsend yelled.  “I’ll have your badge for this!”

Blair stepped back from the table and laughed.  “You want it?”  He shrugged.  “Take it.  It’ll leave me just that much more time to concentrate on you.  Plan on getting a restraining order against me?  Well, we both know those things aren’t worth the paper they’re written on, don’t we?  I’m sure your wife could tell us how good they are…except she’s dead, isn’t she?”

Blair casually picked a piece of lint from his sleeve and let it drift to the floor.  “And when you’re arrested and convicted…”  He coldly smiled again.  “…and you will be because I’ll have come up with the evidence to prove it…I’ll just drop a few words in the ears of some prisoners at Starkville who would love to do me a favor.”  Blair braced his hands on the table again and leaned towards Townsend.  Lowering his voice, he continued, “Words like…pedophile…likes little girls…but loves little boys…”

Townsend paled.  “You’re crazy!” he accused.

Blair shrugged.  “Maybe.  But you won’t be in any condition to do anything about me, now will you?  And if you manage to make through a few weeks of justifiable retribution, I’ll drop the dime on you with Jackson.  Let him know that all his troubles can be traced right back to you.”

Townsend shook his head.  “You can’t do this.  They…the cops won’t let you.”

“They can’t stop me,” Blair almost whispered.  He raised his voice slightly.  “So here’s your choice, Townsend.  You get me…24/7 and all that comes with it…or you talk to the nice detectives and tell them the God’s honest truth about everything.”  He leaned even closer and bared his teeth.  “Which is it going to be?” he growled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first thing Jim looked for when he and Simon returned to the bullpen a few hours later was Blair’s backpack.  Not seeing it, he glanced at his watch and frowned.

“Blair’s already been here and gone,” Joel quietly announced.

“Yeah, and just exactly what did you do to piss him off, Ellison?” Henri demanded.

“Me?”  Jim looked at his co-workers in confusion.  “Nothing.  I’ve been here all day.”

“Well, he blew in here muttering about ‘sorry-assed sons-of-bitches not knowing who they were dealing with’ and then took a turn with Townsend in the interrogation room,” Henri explained.

“Townsend!” Simon exploded.  “Why didn’t you stop him?”

“Henri couldn’t,” Joel quickly explained.  “Neither could I.”  He firmly looked at Jim.  “Something had him riled up, that’s for sure.”

“He was riled up enough that he broke Townsend,” Henri finally smiled.

“What?”  Simon looked at Jim and then back at Henri.  “What do you mean, he ‘broke’ Townsend?”

“I mean Townsend is rolling over on Jackson,” Henri explained.  “Chapter and verse.  Some of it we already know but couldn’t prove.  Other stuff we didn’t even know about.”  He nodded in the direction of the interrogation rooms.  “As Rafe’s getting it from him, I’m arranging to get it corroborated.  We’ve already got Homicide bringing up a couple of their files.”  He glanced at Jim.  “Oh, and he did your paperwork as well before he left.”

Jim stared at the neat top of his desk.  “Sandburg was here?  Since when does he work at my desk and leave everything so neat?”

“I told you…something’s up with him,” Henri repeated.  “He was like a wild man or something.”

“Think something’s wrong with that Mrs. Ryan?” Simon quietly asked.

Jim shook his head.  “He would’ve left me a note.  She’s sort of adopted both of us.”  He missed the quick grin between Joel & Henri.  “There’s nothing here from him at all.  I don’t know, Simon.  Something’s not right.”  He looked at Joel who’d managed to wipe the smile from his face.  “Did he say anything before he left?”

“Yeah,” Henri chuckled.  “Said he was heading to the market to get stuff for dinner and I quote ‘Ellison better have his ass home on time for dinner’.”

“Jim…what did you do or didn’t do?” Joel patiently asked.

“Nothing!  I swear!”  Jim turned to Simon.  “Captain, I’ve been with you all day!”

Henri saw two detectives from Homicide enter the bullpen.  “Well, make sure to duck when you get home ‘cause Hairboy’s loaded for bear.”  He walked towards the two detectives and led them towards the interrogation room two.

“Okay, I have no idea what’s going on,” Jim admitted with a sigh.  He glanced at Simon.  “Any suggestions?”

Simon shrugged.  “Don’t be late for dinner.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THE LOFT (5:41 p.m.)

Jim was tempted to open the front door of the loft and wave a white flag before he walked inside his own home.  Then he straightened his shoulders and resolutely opened the door.  A quick glance around as he gently closed the door behind him found Blair pacing back and forth by the balcony windows as he talked into his cell phone.

“…that’s right…yes, that’s correct…”  Spotting Jim, Blair absently waved in greeting.  “No...no, that’s not acceptable!  And, yes, I understand that’s your rules.”

‘Okay, it’s not me.’  Jim felt absurdly both pleased and relieved that Blair’s bad humor wasn’t because of him.  He walked into the kitchen and smiled when he smelled Blair’s spaghetti sauce simmering on the stove.  He opened the refrigerator door and grabbed a bottle of water.  Cracking it open, he shut the refrigerator door and leaned against it.

“Fine.  We’ll just agree to disagree.  Your rules are unacceptable and ridiculous not to mention most likely arbitrary and discriminatory!”  Blair closed his cell phone and threw it onto the couch.  “Stupid bureaucratic morons!  Think this is the end of it?  Oh, I don’t think so,” he muttered.  Hands on hips, he angrily glared at his cell phone.

“Hey, Chief,” Jim carefully spoke.

“Hey, Jim,” Blair distractedly replied.

“So, how’s Mrs. Ryan?” Jim asked.

“Good, she’s good.”  Blair shook his head and walked into the kitchen.  He reached for his wooden spoon and began stirring the sauce.  “The doctor said her dizzy spells were a result of low blood sugar so he’s adjusted her medication.”

“I’m glad,” Jim nodded as he sipped the water.  “Heard you broke Townsend.”

Blair nodded then carefully put the spoon down on the counter.  “He took one look at me and thought I was a pushover.  Why do people do that, Jim?”

“Well…”

“It’s insulting, that’s what it is!”  Blair angrily began pacing.  “Even when someone doesn’t see me, they think I’m a pushover just because I speak nicely and politely!  Am I supposed to talk and act like some kind of Neanderthal jerk just to get a little respect?!”

“No, of cour…”

“I am a nice person!” Blair continued to rant.  “I do try to obey the rules.  But when those rules are completely wrong, I don’t think it’s out of line to expect reasonable discourse and some sort of compromise!  Do you, Jim?!”

Jim put the bottle of water on the counter and walked over to Blair.  Putting his hands on the younger man’s shoulders, he leaned down and gently kissed Blair’s mouth.  “No, it’s not.”  He felt Blair relax and squeezed his shoulders.  “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

“Oh, man.”  Blair rubbed his face.  “I guess it’s silly.”

“Not if it’s got you this worked up,” Jim pointed out.  “Just about everybody in the bullpen thinks I’ve done something to upset you, and Henri even warned me to duck when I came home.”

“Oh, jeez,” Blair moaned.  “I’m sorry.”

“C’mon.”  Jim steered his partner to the couch.  “Sit down and tell me what’s going on.”

“Okay, it’s like this,” Blair began as he sat on the couch next to Jim.  “Pelusi’s Convenience Stores…you know…the ones with all the gas pumps?”  When Jim nodded, he continued, “Well, last month they had this promotion where you signed up for the Pelusi Card.  You got five percent off all convenience store purchases and a nickel off the gas prices.  It’s not a gas card or credit card but a debit card linking right to your checking account.  But using it rather than an ATM card will let you avoid any ATM or bank fees.  Got it?”

‘And they probably raised prices before they offered the card.’  Jim slowly nodded.  “So you signed up for it.”

Blair beamed.  “Right!  I got it yesterday and activated it.  Talked to a really nice young lady named Rita when I did.  So, after I dropped off Mrs. Ryan downstairs, I headed for the station.  I realized I was low on gas so I stopped at the Pelusi’s over on Dalton…you know the one?”

“Yeah,” Jim grimaced.  “The really busy one.”

“Yeah, and it was really busy this morning!” Blair grumbled.  “Anyway, I wait in line and finally get to the pump.  I whip out the Pelusi Card and try to use it.  It comes back denied!  So I thought I’d entered the wrong PIN number and try again.  Still denied!”   He glared at Jim.  “And, yes, I do have a couple of hundred in the checking account!”

Jim held up his hands in silent surrender.

“So the people waiting in line behind me are getting a little peeved,” Blair continued.  “I mean, the line’s really backed up.  So I use my ATM card, and it works!  I pump the gas and pull over to the parking area to call the customer service number on the back of the Pelusi Card.” 

“And?”  Jim prompted when Blair stopped.

“And I was told that I didn’t have any purchase history and until I did any card transactions would be denied!”  Blair jumped to his feet and began pacing again.  “They said it would take about two weeks to build up an ‘appropriate purchase history’…”  Blair wiggled his fingers in the air to indicate a quote.  “…but that I should continue to use the card in the next two weeks in order to build up said ‘appropriate purchase history’!”  Blair again wiggled his fingers.  Then he spun around and glared at Jim.  “Now, I ask you…does that make sense?”

“Well…”

“Of course it doesn’t!” Blair furiously continued.  “So I ask why, since this card is directly linked to my checking account, and I filled out a credit application including my checking account number when I applied for the card.  If I didn’t have an appropriate history of any kind, then why was I approved?!  Do you know what they told me?  Do you, Jim?”

Jim shook his head and leaned back against the couch.

“They said this process conformed to their internal rules and processes!”  Blair agitatedly waved his hands in the air.  “That’s about as dumb a bureaucratic answer as I’ve ever heard!  So I ask what am I supposed to do in the meantime?  Just continue using the card so it can be denied?!  ‘Well, yes, Mr. Sandburg.  But if you really need to use the card, just call us when you get the denial.  We’ll call our client and try to get them to override it.  But, of course, they have the option to sustain the denial.’  Like I’m going to do that when people are backed up four deep behind me at the gas pump and starting to snarl at me!”

“Did you call Pelusi’s corporate office?” Jim quietly asked.

“Yes!  Yes, I did!  Do you know what they said to me?!”  When Jim silently shook his head, Blair snorted.  “They said it wasn’t their decision!  That this was the decision of the credit agency and referred me back to the customer service number!”

“So the customer service number on the card isn’t Pelusi’s number?”

“Precisely!  Not that you know that when you call!” Blair growled.  “You get this automated recording thanking you for calling and asking you to please hold.  Just when you think you can’t stand anymore of that third-rate lounge music, you get someone who only identifies themselves by their first name.”  He took a deep breath.  “So when I got home I called customer service back and asked for a supervisor.  After going over everything again, I get told that the supervisor won’t be able to change anything.  I still politely asked to speak to a supervisor.  I’m put on hold again and have to listen to that God-awful music!”

Jim passed his water bottle to Blair who waved it away.  The younger man trotted into the kitchen to check on his sauce, talking over his shoulder.  “So I finally get a supervisor…who tells me the same thing.  But he did tell me that this was for my own protection!”  Blair slammed the wooden spoon down onto the counter.

Jim winced, seeing spaghetti sauce splatter against the side of the refrigerator.

“My protection, I ask him?  How is that?  Well, this is to help fight against identity fraud!  It seems, Jim, that when this company says ‘appropriate purchase history’…”  Blair wiggled his fingers as he paced back towards the couch.  “…what it means is that they don’t have a record of where you use the card.  So if someone would happen to use the card outside of that geographical area, they could deny the purchase!”  He snorted, “All for my own good, you understand!”

Blair ran his hands through his hair.  “So I asked…politely…what would happen if I should be in Seattle and use the Pelusi Card…or in San Francisco or in Los Angeles?!  After all, those stations are all over the West Coast.  Since I’m not normally purchasing anything in Seattle or in San Francisco or in Los Angeles, would that purchase be denied?”  He whirled around to face Jim.  “This dumb idiot said, ‘Well it’s entirely likely it would be, Mr. Sandburg, until you establish an appropriate purchase history in those areas.’  So I’m not supposed to travel?!  And I’m going through all this for a five percent discount off convenience store purchases and a nickel off each gallon of gasoline?!”  Furiously, Blair kicked the side of the couch.

Jim held out his arms.  “C’mere.”  When Blair hesitated, he urged, “C’mon…sit here with me.”

Blair sat down on the couch and slumped into Jim’s arms.

“I love you, Blair; and I’m sorry you had such a tough time today,” Jim quietly spoke.  “I know you’re not going to let this just slide by.”  He kissed the top of Blair’s head.

“You bet I’m not,” Blair mumbled into Jim’s shirt.  “I’m going to run every possible errand for the both of us tomorrow to use up some gas.  Then the day after tomorrow I’m taking that card to Pelusi’s over on Dalton and pump some gas.  When it gets denied, I’m going to stand my ground and call those people to demand they honor that card.  I don’t care how long I tie up that gas pump!  Then I’m calling Pelusi’s corporate office and telling them why I’m never shopping there again for anything!”

Jim nodded in agreement.  “Gonna call Naomi?”

Blair nodded.  “Gonna get the word out, man.  What if that was some college kid getting gas late at night?  Or some old lady like Mrs. Ryan?  They may not have an ATM card or cash on them.  Those corporate goons should warn everybody about that restriction so people can make an informed choice.”

“But if they did that, they wouldn’t be corporate goons,” Jim teased.  Then he hugged the younger man.  “You go get ‘em, Chief.”

Blair looked up into Jim’s blue eyes.  “Really?”

“Really,” Jim nodded.

“Thanks, Jim.”  Blair reached up and kissed Jim’s lips.

“Smells like the sauce needs some time.  Why don’t you go take a nice long hot shower to relax?” Jim suggested.

Blair hesitated then nodded.  “Keep stirring it.”

“I will.”  Jim watched as Blair trotted up the stairs then returned a few minutes later with clean clothes.  The younger man pointedly glanced into the kitchen.

“I’m going,” Jim promised, getting up from the couch.  He watched over his shoulder as Blair disappeared into the bathroom.  When the door was shut, Jim leaned against the refrigerator and silently laughed to himself.  ‘Okay, it really isn’t funny…but all this for a five percent discount and a nickel off the gas price?!’

 
January 2012

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