Boosted Pt. 04

EIGHT

"Morning, Paul," Sean said as he stepped into the breakroom for his morning coffee.

"Morning, Sean. I've got some news."

"About BIGS?" Sean asked as he filled his mug.

"Yeah."

Sean jerked his head. "Let's go into my office." As they entered his office, he pushed the door closed until there was only a crack left. It was Wednesday, a week since Sean had asked Paul to keep an eye on BIGS. "What've you got?" he asked as he circled his desk and sat down.

Paul settled into a guest chair as he began to speak. "Maybe nothing. I saw BIGS open late two nights. I'm not sure when they opened or closed, but they started up sometime between midnight and one, and closed up again sometime between three and three-thirty. I didn't see anything, just that the shop lights were on, and I could hear tools."

"What days?"

"Thursday and again last night."

Sean sipped from his mug as he thought. "Didn't see any cars coming or going?"

Paul shook his head. "Nothing. None in the parking lot either. I drove by several times while they were open, but like I said, I didn't see anything."

"Any thoughts?"

"On what they were doing back there?" Sean nodded. "No idea, but they were working on something."

Sean thought for a moment. When he'd asked Paul to keep an eye on the place, he'd had nothing except suspicions, and that was still all he had. He decided to change the subject to give himself a moment to think. "This is your last week, right?"

"Yes," Paul said softly, his tone slightly sad. "When I go off duty Friday morning, that's it. I start in Raleigh a week from Monday."

"You okay?"

Paul looked up, but there was no happiness in his faint smile. "Yeah. It's starting to sink in, you know? I'm going to miss the guys."

Sean nodded, his lips quirking slightly to the side. "It hasn't been that long since I left Boston to come here, and I felt the same way. I was looking forward to the new opportunity, but I'd worked with those guys for years. They were almost like family."

Paul slowly nodded in agreement. "Yeah." There was a moment of silence. "That's all I've got."

"That's all I expected."

"You still think something's going on?"

"What do you think?"

Paul held Sean's gaze as he thought. "It could be guys working on their own stuff after hours."

"Could be," Sean agreed.

"Strange it would be so late, though. Why not do it right after they close?"

"Good question."

"Could be a chop shop."

"Could be that too."

"Tilley seems like an unlikely place to open a chop shop, though."

"Maybe."

"But then, we're only forty minutes or so from Raleigh. Get the cars out of town as fast as possible. I wonder if that Huracán is there?"

"I'd like to know that myself. It would certainly explain why they need the privacy screen, wouldn't it?"

Paul sipped his coffee carefully. "Yeah, it would. You think they're chopping cars?"

"I think there might be something going on there, yeah."

"How do you prove it?"

Sean snorted as his lips twitched. "Well, that's the problem, isn't it?"

"I suppose it would be too much to walk up and ask to look around?"

"Probably. If they let us look, there won't be anything there for us to find, and if they don't, we couldn't get a warrant anyway. Probably not worth tipping our hand that we suspect something."

"And if they do let us look, just because we don't see anything doesn't mean there isn't anything going on."

"Exactly."

"You know, sometimes this job is really frustrating."

Sean nodded and took another sip from his mug. "I agree, but we have to follow the law, plus it's just bad all the way around to make unfounded accusations."

"Yeah, I know. It was like that Locoste thing. We all knew he was doing something fishy, no pun intended but--"

"But we got him without breaking our trust with the public," Sean interrupted.

"Yeah, I know, but what if you hadn't found that cell phone? He would have probably gotten away with it, don't you think?"

Sean shrugged. "Maybe, but I did find it, and now he's pulling some serious time. In any case, I'd rather him get away with murder than to convict an innocent man."

Paul nodded. "Yeah, I know, and that sounds great when you're in school, but then when you get out in the real world..."

"It's a whole different thing, isn't it?" Sean said with a grin. "Listen, believe me, I understand. The CTF got convictions on maybe one of every fifty cases we got," he continued, remembering his time heading up the Cybercrime Task Force in Boston. "All we can do is keep working the problem until we get a break. At least now we suspect something is going on and we can keep an eye on them." He grinned. "Well, we can. You'll be in Raleigh."

Paul's face scrunched. Paul didn't need words, everything he was thinking could be determined from his facial expression. "I'm kinda annoyed I'm going to miss the fun."

"You could always stay. I haven't filled your position yet." For an instant Sean could see Paul considering it.

"Tempting, but I can't."

"That's what I expected you to say."

"I'm going to call you every week or so to see if you get them."

Sean grinned and bobbed his head in agreement as he leaned back in his chair. "You do that."

"Maybe we can work this from both ends. Me in Raleigh and you here."

"Now you're talking! We could also find out we don't know what we're talking about and BIGS is completely straight."

"Maybe, but for some reason I don't think so." Paul grinned as he stood. "I need to get going, but I'm serious about calling you. Something is going on over there. I can feel it."

"Yeah. I think B-I-G-S," Sean said, saying each letter individually instead of saying it as a word like he normally did, "is doing something that is going to get them in B-I-G trouble."

"I think so too. I'll keep watching them for anything that gives us probable cause." He paused, almost as if he was regretting his decision to leave. "I'll see you Friday morning to turn in my gun, car, and badge."

"That'll be fine." Paul hesitated but then turned and left the office. Sean looked at his desk for a moment. He hated to lose Paul, but he'd be a terrific asset to the Raleigh Police Department.

-oOo-

"Well, look what the cat dragged in! The usual?" Linda, the smiling server, asked as she filled a water glass for Sean and set it at one of the open stools at the lunch counter.

Pop's Place was normally packed at lunch, and today was no exception. The restaurant had a counter facing the kitchen, along with a drink machine, on one side of the long but narrow space, with a collection of tables squeezed into the remaining area. With black and white Formica and matching tile floor the dominating décor, the establishment had a charming retro vibe that he enjoyed. Like the rest of the waitstaff, Linda wore a Pop's Place t-shirt and jeans, but she still reminded him of a stereotypical waitress as portrayed in the golden age of Hollywood. All she needed was a waitress uniform to make Pop's a time machine.

As always, he settled at the lunch counter because he didn't want to wait for one of the limited number of tables to open, nor occupy one just for himself. Besides not having to wait on a table, Linda, who worked the counter, was always in a good mood and he liked her bubbly personality. "Please."

She scribbled on a pad as she went to the next customer. He sipped his water, watching the crowd, until his bacon cheeseburger with extra pickles and a side of seasoned fries was placed in front of him.

"There you go, sugar. What else can I get you? We have lemon meringue pie today."

"This is perfect. Thanks."

"I'll check back on you in a few minutes."

When Linda first started calling him sugar, he'd been a little uncomfortable until he realized everyone who came into the place, male and female alike, was either hon or sugar to her. He guessed it was easier than trying to remember everyone's names.

He was about half-way through his burger when Linda refilled his water glass. "How's your place doing?"

He finished chewing and swallowed. "Slow. You tried it?"

"Nah. Me and Bert, we're simple folk and not into them fancy upscale places."

He chuckled. "It's hardly that. If you like meat and potatoes, excuse me, taters, then I think you'll like it."

"You can take the boy out of Boston, but you can't take the Boston out of the boy," she teased. The people of Brunswick still made gentle fun of his accent. "A couple of people I know tried it and said the food was good."

"Really? That's good to know. I tried to capture the feel of a real Irish pub."

"Did you?"

"I think so. You know what pub stands for?"

"What?"

"It's short for public house. In Ireland, it's where you go to have something to eat and meet with your friends."

Linda smiled. "Maybe I'll try to talk Bert into taking me there. Will I see you?"

"Probably not. I don't know anything about running the place. I leave that up to Laura, but she'll take good care of you."

Linda glanced away. "Nice talking to you," she said as she moved off to service another customer.

He finished his burger and paid, leaving the money for his food and a tip on the counter. Unlike at Big Belly Deli, where he mixed his order up, he always ate the same thing at Pop's, so there never was any question about how much to leave. There were no prices on the hand-written ticket, but he assumed Linda would tell him if the prices went up. He stepped back out onto Main Street and returned to his walk. He decided to stop at Quilting Bee, a small shop that featured handmade quilts by local artisans, along with quilting supplies.

"Mavis, how're you doing?" he asked the older woman sitting at a quilting frame.

"Doing fine. How're you doing?" she asked, rising from her stool.

"Never better. How's business? Anything I can do for you?"

Ms. Mavis Probst had some beautiful quilts on display, though he thought they were incredibly expensive for something you threw over a bed to keep warm. The quilts ranged in price from under a hundred dollars for a dog bed quilt, to over a thousand for the more intricate designs. He assumed most of the quilts were bought for display since Ms. Probst seemed to sell as many, or more, quilts in the summer as she did in the winter.

"Okay. Did you catch whoever was painting Roberta's window?"

"No ma'am. I'm planning on stopping in to see her today to find out if she's still having problems. It's probably just kids who think it's funny."

"That doesn't make it right."

"No, ma'am, it doesn't."

"I heard your place is open now."

"Yes, ma'am."

"From what I hear, most people like it. I don't think Bobby and Liliana are too keen on the place, though."

Sean smiled at Mavis's teasing. Bobby and Liliana Pristridge owned Mangia. "I'm sure they'll get over it."

"I'm sure," she agreed with an understanding smile.

"I won't keep you," he said as he began edging toward the door. "I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing."

"Always good to see you, Sean."

He hadn't thought about stopping at Fudgy-Duddy, but having Mavis mention it reminded him that he should. The Quilting Bee was near the end of the downtown area, but he continued on his way until he waved at Harold Wilcox through the window of A Tick in Time, a clock shop that occupied the last building in the historic downtown. He crossed the street and strolled back until he stepped into Fudgy-Duddy.

"Hello, Roberta. How's the window?"

"Hi, Sean. No more problems. Did you catch whoever was doing it?"

"Nope. We increased our patrols of downtown, but we didn't see anyone. I see you put up the sign like I suggested."

"Yep, and I bought a camera too. I can't figure out how to make the dumb thing work, but it looks good up there, don't you think?" she asked, pointing to a cheap wireless camera hanging on the wall to face the front door and window.

"What's wrong with it?"

"I can't figure out how to see what it's recording."

"Want me to take a look at it?"

"You don't have to do that."

"I don't mind."

She broke into a big smile. "If you don't mind, then sure. Thanks!"

This was the kind of stuff he enjoyed fiddling with, and if it improved the public relations with his department, even better. "You have a computer?"

"Carol! Can you bring the computer out here for a minute?"

"My hands are dirty!" a woman's voice called from somewhere in the back.

"Hang on, I'll get it." Roberta disappeared through a door, and then reappeared a moment later with a laptop. She handed it over the counter to him, along with a small pamphlet with the picture of the camera on the front. "Anything I need to do?"

He set the computer on the counter. "Password?"

She told him, and he typed it in.

"I tried your restaurant," she said as he worked.

"What did you think?" he asked, focused on this task and not looking up.

"It was good."

"What did you have?"

"Sausage and mashed potatoes."

"The bangers and mash," he said as he clicked and typed, referring to the booklet for the camera's default password.

"I wasn't sure about the place when I first looked at the menu. The food has such strange names, but I was impressed, and I plan to go back and try something else."

"I'm glad you liked it. Tell all your friends."

"Oh, I have. Me and a group of the girls are going back this weekend."

He spun the computer around, so Roberta could see it, before he stepped into the camera's field of view and waved.

"That's it?" she asked.

"That's it," he replied as he returned the counter.

"I feel stupid now. It didn't take you five minutes."

He grinned. "Lots of practice." He created a shortcut on the desktop for the camera. "When you want to see what the camera recorded, click here, select the camera to connect to its wi-fi, and then click the icon on the desktop," he explained as he slowly walked her through the process. "It's saving a new file every ten minutes, and it looks like it will hold at least a couple of weeks of video before it begins to delete old files. See, here are all the files its recorded so far. Click on one of them and you can watch what it recorded." He clicked on one of the files and let it play for five seconds or so to demonstrate. "When you're done, click here again, change back to your regular wi-fi, and you're all set. The password is Roberta," he said as he wrote the password on the front of the instruction booklet. He used her first name because he wasn't sure how to spell Gellenphaf.

She blinked at him a moment. "How about I give you some fudge and you come do it for me if I ever need to look at what's on the camera?"

He chuckled. If Roberta needed to see what the camera captured, his department probably needed to be involved anyway. "Sure. Anything else I can do for you?"

"What kind of fudge do you like?"

"What? I'm sure it's all good, why?"

Roberta pulled a large box off the counter behind her and put a selection of fudge into it and closed the lid. "For helping with the camera," she said as she offered the box.

"You don't have to do that."

"Oh, poo. Take it."

"Ms. Gellenphaf, are you trying to bribe me with fudge?" he asked, making sure his tone made it clear he was kidding.

"If you don't want it, take it home to Maggie. I know she likes the chocolate."

He took the box. "If I told her I turned down a box of your fudge, I'll be sleeping on the couch."

"Smart man," she said with a smile. "Thank you for everything."

"You're welcome. With the camera up, let me know if the hoodlums paint your window again. We might actually catch them now."

"It'll be my pleasure."

-oOo-

He worked around the station the rest of the afternoon before calling it a day. After feeding and medicating his cat, he drove to Maggie's, pulling into the garage. Her house was almost as much home as his apartment, maybe more so. They'd been taking it slow, but he was falling for her, that much was certain, and he was fighting the urge to tell her how he felt. They'd been dating about a year, and while she'd started out as a friend and companion, she'd become much more. When he stepped into the kitchen, Maggie was there, already dressed in her running shorts and top. He kissed her quickly before she could say anything.

"Ready?" she asked, her smile teasing as he pulled back from the kiss.

He groaned in teasing despair. "Yeah. Let me change." He offered her the small wax paper wrapped bundle. He'd left most of the fudge at the station, but brought Maggie three blocks of the chocolate wrapped in a piece of wax paper he'd taken from the box. "I brought you something."

She took it, gasping in comic delight when she realized what it was. "Is this from Fudgy-Duddy?"

"Yeah. I thought you might like it."

"My hero," she purred, offering him another kiss before placing the bundle on the counter.

She followed him to their room and he began to quickly change into his own running gear. "What's the rush today?" he asked as he began tying his shoes, her hovering silently giving him a sense of urgency.

"No rush. I was cooped up in the office all day, and it's too nice outside to not get out and enjoy it."

He nodded as he stood. "That much is true. Take it easy on me, okay?"

She smiled at him, a smile that made him tingle. "We'll see."

She'd set a quick pace this evening, and he was having to push himself to keep up. They'd reached the stop sign and had turned back to her house when his phone rang. After the officer involved shooting in Tilley last year, he never went anyplace without his phone. He slowed to a walk, Maggie falling into step beside him. Panting, he looked at the screen to see who was calling. It was Laura. He accepted the call.

"Sean," he said, trying to get control of his breathing.

"Sean, it's Laura. You okay?"

"Out of breath. Maggie's trying to kill me. What's up?"

"Can you come down here?"

"The pub?"

"Yeah."

"Is there a problem?"

"No, no problem, but there's something I need you to see. Bring Maggie too."

He paused as his mind ran through all the potential issues that would require his presence. Having Laura ask for Maggie to come was even more worrisome. Maggie was responsible for the pub's compliance with city sewer ordinances, and he wondered if they were having an issue with that.

"We're out running, so it'll take us a few minutes to get home and get cleaned up."

"No rush."

"You sure there's no problem?"

"No," Laura said, her tone giving nothing away. "You'll understand when you get here."

"Okay. We'll be there as quick as we can."

"What was that all about?" Maggie asked after he hung up.

"Laura wants us to come to Loch and Castle."

"Why?"

"She wouldn't say," he said, his tone and body language telegraphing his confusion. Maggie's house was in sight. "I guess we should get a move on. Race you!" he said as he sprinted away.

The short pause had given him a chance to catch his breath. He took the early lead, his longer legs giving him the advantage, but he couldn't keep up the pace. She reeled him in and passed him just before they reached the edge of her property.

"Too slow... old man," she panted, beaming at him before she put her hands on her hips and leaned back slightly to stare at the darkening sky. There was less than two years difference in their ages, but she didn't mind teasing him about being older.

While she may have beaten him, he'd pushed her, and she was gasping for breath just as he was. "Yeah, well... just wait until... you're my age... and see how you feel," he gasped, still panting as they walked toward her house.

By the time they reached the door his breathing had slowed enough that he pulled her into a kiss. He thought about inviting her to shower with him but decided that would only delay them getting to Loch and Castle.