Liberty Shrugged

By G. F. Kaye

Jerry headed to the street. Her night wasn’t over yet. Crossing to the loft, using her pass card, she let herself into the building. Walking down the inner hall, she checked her mailbox with a glance. Clicking through the lower doors, thinking she was going to really be glad to shed the heels, she froze. Sensing a presence before looking up, she spotted Ben sitting on the mid-floor landing. He’d been leaning against the wall, dozing, and looked like he’d been there for a while. She frowned, wondering what this was all about, before smiling disarmingly, she hoped, though still quite puzzled. He was stretching, rousing himself to awareness. He’d had his eyes open when she’d looked up, having probably heard her heels on the cement floor. Caution dictating Ben’s actions, considering the hand to hand training he knew company agents did on a regular basis, “Uh. Hello,” he said tentatively. “I’m Ben Davison. I work here. In accounting. I was waiting for Jerry Marlowe,” he mumbled.
“Hmmm. Not sure she’ll be back tonight,” she replied brightly. “I’m a field agent. Undercover work. Sure I can’t help you?”
Frowning again, he looked her up and down quite openly. She could almost hear his mind working, saying something like, “This is an undercover agent? Whose covers has she been working under?”
“I don’t necessarily look or dress like this all the time, you know,” she laughed, continuing past him and up to the second floor. “Come on,” she grinned over her shoulder. “I’ll fix us some coffee. Don’t you worry your little head about it, Ben Davison from Accounting. I don’t bite.”
“I can go if you’re that tired,” he sighed at what he assumed was an effort to be cheerful. “Really! I was just concerned about something.”
“If you’re concerned enough to come up here with a strange woman at three in the morning, the least I can do is listen,” she said.
“My wife seems to have disappeared,” he said without preamble, noting her immediate frown.

Sometimes you just can’t catch a break. Just having finished putting a ‘date rape’ pair in the slam, Jerry Marlowe tiredly walked into her home at O-dark-thirty to find her firm’s new accountant camped on the stairs, and so it began, a tale, not only of kidnapping, but mistaken identity. The kidnapping was bad enough, but with little or no clues to go on, the Marlowe crew suddenly found themselves in the situation of having to find the victim before the kidnappers discovered they had seriously missed their mark.
They’d grabbed the wrong woman.
Follow Jerry Marlowe, Samantha Tanaka, Ivana Sergeyevna, and the accountant, Ben Davison, the ex-husband, also an ex-cop, vice, as they do what private cops do best, pound the pavement, digging up clues, and, this time, the clock was definitely ticking.

Liberty Shrugged, the latest in the annals of the Marlowe, Inc., cases by G. F. Kaye.

• Language: English
• Publisher: G. F. Kaye
• Release date: Nov 14, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370277087

G. F. Kaye

G. F. Kaye lives in Grand Rapids, MI, in a lovingly restored 1839 farmhouse. The work was all done personally, including the exterior, which is shaked in the traditional New England style. This has been listed as a "dying American Art Form. The author also paints in most media, and is a neighborhood preservation activist and avid gardener. Of Eastern European descent, the author has always felt a close affinity with the soil and growing things. Writing has been a lifelong off and on affair, with serious efforts being made since 2002. The author has since completed numerous works, and is in the process of final editing them and publishing them as e-books. "I only write when I'm having fun doing it," is the author's credo. The belief is that if the author is having fun writing the works, then people will also have fun reading them. This is reflected in the author's 'tongue in cheek' style, which has been referred to as a cross between the works of John Steinbeck and Mickey Spillane.

Book preview

Liberty Shrugged

G. F. Kaye

* * * * *

This is a work of fiction.

All physical locations are fictional, as are events described, and exist only in the mind of the author.

Any resemblance of characters contained herein to any specific person, persons, or beings, living, dead is purely coincidental.

Liberty Shrugged

Copyright 2016, G. F. Kaye

All Rights Reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted by any means; mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission from the author.

In plain English, this e-book is licensed for the original buyer’s personal enjoyment only, and may not be re-sold or given away. If you would like to share this book, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book, and you did not purchase it, or it was not purchased solely for your use, then please go to your favorite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy.

Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

First Published by G. F. Kaye at Smashwords. Also by G. F. Kaye @ Smashwords

Stories of the Marlowe, Inc., Crew:

The T-bone Affair

Murder at Tiffany’s

Also:

Ikon

A Witches Tail

* * *

Chapter One: It’s always calmest . . .

Jerry Marlowe strode into Patty’s office bearing a wall to wall grin on her face. Without saying anything, she dropped a file folder unceremoniously on her partner’s desk. Dusting her hands theatrically, still not saying a word, striding to a side closet, she took a battered old cup from a hook and filled it from a coffee carafe that was always there and loaded. She knew where everything was because it used to be her office - what only seemed like a lifetime ago. Taking a sip, she stood there a moment, studying her reflection in the mirror on the back wall and musing about how far she’d come since a certain day when another of her partners had arrived so precipitously in this very office. Taking another sip and turning, the quite striking, steely-eyed, athletic looking brunette grinned wryly as that same woman walked into the room just a few steps behind her. Well, Patty, me dear, the intrepid constable and I’ve wrapped up yet another in our ongoing adventures! she chuckled at the trim-figured, skirt suited woman behind the old oak desk. The desk fit right in with the old-fashioned, oak paneled office lit by big double hung windows, also oak framed. Over the years, all that oak had been meticulously restored, but that was the current occupant’s doing.

What’s next? she asked, before noting the person sitting before it for the first time, apparently. Of course, everyone present knew better than that. In fact, with, possibly, the exception of the person she was studying, everyone there knew she’d have been able to close her eyes mere seconds after walking into the room and tell you - in excruciating detail - just who and what was in it, precisely where he, she, or it was located, and what they’d been doing, right down to the fat, apparently imperturbable orange tabby tomcat sitting on the windowsill, cleaning his right front paw, second toe from the outside. Patty, who’d known her for years, knew that, of course.

Have you met Ben Davison? she grinned, waving at the slim, sandy haired, bespectacled, thirty-ish fellow that looked like an accountant and likely was one, Marlowe suspected. Dark slacks. Pale gray shirt, sleeves rolled up. Slim red necktie. Grinning, she nodded. With both black and red pens in his shirt pocket, what else could he be?

Ben, Patty grinned at him in turn, in case you were wondering who’d simply sashay into my office like she owned the place - well, she does. That lady, she began, before correcting herself with a chuckled snort. "That woman, anyway, is the name on the building; Jerry Marlowe."

Uh, he stammered at the tallish brunette in jeans, pale blue V-necked t-shirt, brown leather bomber jacket, and matching loafers. He’d heard all the stories, of course, but this was the first time he’d ever actually met the infamous founder of the company. He was, understandably, just a little nervous; especially considering the subject of his meeting with Patty.

Oh, hell, bubba, the subject of those stories chuckled in a pleasant contralto, however, walking over and sticking out a hand. She then answered what he’d been thinking - making him seriously wonder about a couple of the other things he’d heard. Despite what Patty may have told you, I don’t bite.

Much! snorted the pert, auburn-haired woman with a slight trace of British accent who’d followed her into the room, similarly clad, while rounding up a cup for herself. Don’t fret yourself, though, hon, she giggled, rolling her eyes, ambling over and perching nonchalantly on a corner of the desk. The intense pain lasts but a moment, and you’d be amazed at what modern surgeons can sew back on.

O-o-o-kay! The redheaded wiseass is Elise Montague, and, before you even ask, yes, they’re always like that, Patty laughed. Go easy! she aimed at her visitors. Ben is one of ours, ladies. Matter of fact, he’s the one that struggles to make sense of all those little receipts, odd slips, and hand written notes on napkins that you two, and more than a few others, laughingly turn in as expense reports, she added with a snort.

You trying to tell me something, Patty? Jerry frowned. Swiveling her head, Is she trying to tell me something? she aimed at Ben when all Patty did was grin mischievously.

Well, ah, he began, a little nervous at having so quickly been put on the spot. Some of your, ah, receipts seem to be a little sparse on detail, ma’am. It might help, for instance, if I knew what case they were for, or - oh, what the hell. he grunted. Taking a deep breath, he jumped right in. What it might’ve been that you bought, paid for, or otherwise who you gave the money to and why might be helpful. That said, as Patty pursed her lips, nodding, he braced himself for any variety of responses, up to and including being tossed bodily out of the office. He’d heard a couple of those stories, too. She’d begun fishing in a jacket pocket while he’d been speaking, though. Apparently, finding what she was looking for, uncrumpling it, she brandished a piece of what appeared to be a restaurant napkin like a sword.

You mean like this one? she frowned, stabbing a finger at the marks on it. Wha’d’ya mean? There it is. Two days ago. Fifty bucks to Big Louie, the bag man down on Fifty-third. When you see a slip for fifty to somebody like Big Louie, what the hell do you think it’s for? Info! she crowed, before he could even begin to get a good look at the tattered lump. Info, my man! she aimed directly at him like it was a challenge. In-for-may-shun! The very lifeblood of the P.I.!

Ben, in the meantime, had been unsuccessfully trying to get a look at what she was waving. Finally, he managed to grab it when her flailing hand passed within reach. Opening it out fully, he simply shook his head. Yeah, right, he snorted derisively, holding it up and out for everyone to see as if it were exhibit ‘A’, and they the jury. Turning it over, Tues. - Louie - 50, he read aloud. If it’s really what that hen-scratching says! he added, shaking his head. Maybe it makes sense to you, Ms. Marlowe. You wrote it! It doesn’t say a heck of a lot to the guy trying to bill it out to our clients, does it? I don’t know Big Louie! Why would I? Besides that, he went on, it doesn’t say a goddamned thing on this - this - whatever the hell this is about what case you were working on, does it!?

Finished, he cringed as if ready to duck. He’d heard about her temper. She only glared at him, hands on hips, left eyebrow up, however, and responded, in a quite menacing voice, One more Miz Marlowe out of you and I’ll clip you one, s’help me, and, despite the fashionable appearance, there’s no friggin’ way I hit like a girl! Fine! Write Peterson case on it. Okay?

Fine! he snorted, straightening, as her eyebrow came back down. He wasn’t quite done yet, however. Maybe you can stop by my desk, sometime, and decipher a whole stack just like it? A moment later, however, he gulped a little, noting an ominous silence in the room as people started ducking. Marlowe’s eyes began to twinkle, though, she began to chuckle, and he visibly relaxed as the rest returned from neutral corners while letting a collective breath out. Belatedly, he began to wonder how much of those stories were stories.

Sure. Twenty minutes soon enough? she grinned.

Sure, whatever you say, uh . . .

Jerry. Boss Lady. Head pain in the ass. Anything but Miz Anything, she said offhandedly. Turning to her office manager, I like him! she chuckled. Has something to say, he jumps right in my face and says it! I get enough pussyfooting from people around here. Present company excluded, of course, she added drily, glancing around.

Of course, Patty grinned, turning to Ben. Okay. As for what we were talking about when she blew in, sure, take a few days off. Hug the kids for me. Let me know if you want to take ‘em to a ball game or something. She nodded. We got passes.

Thanks, Patty, he grinned, before turning to Jerry. I’ll go get the pile out, Boss. I’ll just be glad to finally deal with it, he added before heading for the door.

Following him with her eyes, Marlowe rolled them when he was out of sight, shaking her head before turning to Patty. Jeez! You’d think if somebody needed something to do their doggoned job, they’d just tell me what they needed, for Chrissakes, she muttered.

Uh, yeah, Jer, Patty laughed. "Just walk right up to the big boss - still new on the job - and tell her that her receipts suck! Right! Now why wouldn’t everybody think of that!" she grunted, Elise giggling in the background.

Hell, it’s not like I can’t see his point, Jerry snorted. Think we’ll have time to straighten them all out before he goes wherever he’s going? she added, perching on the end of the desk this time while Elise grabbed a chair.

Oh, he’s not going anywhere, Patty grinned. His ex-wife’s coming in from outstate for some kind of an accountant’s convention and she’s bringing the kids. He wanted the time off so he could have them stay with him while they’re here and they could do stuff.

Sounds like he still loves his kids, Jerry nodded.

"Still loves her, too," Patty said, shrugging.

What happened? Elise frowned, concern on her face.

He was a cop, Patty shrugged again. She didn’t have to elaborate. Not with this crew. Cops aren’t known for lasting marriages.

A cop? Jerry snorted. No shit? So now he’s an accountant?

They met in school while they were both studying business administration and accounting and got hitched. Patty shrugged. He finished his bachelor’s, then decided to be a cop. Usual story. Nine years and two kids later, she got tired of waiting for that phone call, she sighed.

Heard it many times, Jerry nodded. Once real close up and personal.

Yeah, Patty nodded. He came home one day to find the writing on the wall - or tacked to the door, more like. He was a mess for a while. Shook himself out of it, finally. Stayed with the force long enough to brush up on his accounting. He asked me for a job one day while I was over at the four-three. He’s going to try to talk her into getting back together now that he’s not a cop anymore and reestablished. I wish him luck.

Yeah. It’s tough with kids, Jerry muttered, looking around. "Well, if there’s nothing else up, I’ll go make his life a little easier, anyway. See you at home later, hon?" she addressed to Elise.

Sure. Bring supper? the redhead grinned hopefully.

Marlowe frowned. Apparently, food was up to her tonight. Have it delivered, she muttered. I’m sure, by the time I get done with our accountant buddy, I won’t feel like going to pick up anything. Better yet, she added, snapping her fingers, I’ll call you when we’re done. You can meet me at Johnie’s for a steak and a couple beers.

Sounds good to me! Elise grinned as her partner headed for the door. Any meal I don’t have to cook, and all that!

Yeah, yeah. I got your ‘Any meal I don’t have to cook!’ Jerry sing-songed, opening the door. One of these days, Elise!

Promises! Promises! laughed the constable as the door closed, and she and Patty laughed about that for a couple of minutes.

Ya know? I didn’t have any plans for tonight and that sounds like a good one to me! Patty grinned as the door opened again. Mind if I join you?

Never, Elise giggled. The more, the merrier!

I like the sound of that. Where we going? an elegantly suited, trim figured, raven-haired woman with piercing, emerald green eyes chuckled, clicking into the room on her usual stiletto heels.

Crazy! Patty grinned as Elise snorted another giggle.

Oh! Short trip, then! Samantha Tanaka laughed, perching on the same desk corner Marlowe’d so recently vacated.

Short, but never boring! Elise laughed.

I don’t know, Sam grinned at her mischievously. Boring can be a relative thing, you know. What may be a humdrum day for this crew would leave most people hiding under a bed, don’tcha think?

No doubt, Patty chimed in. So! What are you up to?

Not much. Sitting here waiting for the next calamity, Sam laughed.

Well, you’re out of luck. I’m fresh out of calamities today, Patty grinned, fishing a tattered looking deck of playing cards from her desk drawer. Anybody for a little strip poker?

We’re all girls, Patty, Elise blandly pointed out.

Oh, that’s right! Patty chuckled. Does sort of take the excitement out of it, doesn’t it?

Depends on the girls, Sam drawled, shrugging, as Elise rolled her eyes. I could round up a couple that’d make it more interesting. You want to use their manacles or your own?

Sam! the constable yelped.

What? she yelped right back, fishing her cuffs from behind her back with a grin. It’s not like we don’t all carry a set! Is it?

Those are handcuffs! Elise sniffed.

Grinning wickedly, Sam leaned in her direction. It was Patty’s turn to roll her eyes, having a fair idea what was coming next, as long as she’d known both. And what, pray tell, would you define as a manacle, my dear? Sam purred, smiling real big. Elise made an O with her mouth upon realizing, much too late, of course, the bent the conversation was taking.

Well? Patty giggled, eyebrows raised expectantly, looking from one to the other, grinning just as wickedly as Sam.

Not to be flustered that easily, however, Being an old-fashioned sort of a girl at heart, Elise chuckled low, shrugging nonchalantly, I prefer them with well oiled leather cuffs. She held up fingers. Four of them, connected by nice, rattly leg chain, if you must know.

I see, Patty smiled mildly, nodding thoughtfully. With or without a nicely snug waistband, including convenient attachment rings.

Attachments! Oohoohoo! Sounds kinky! Sam giggled.

Only when they’re worn with fishnets, spikes, and a g-string, Sam, Patty replied nonchalantly.

Hmmm. Does that sound like she has that little number hanging in her closet or what? Sam winked at Elise before rising and making a bee line for the coffee.

"Please note the last comment came from the only one present that wears spikes all the time?" Patty laughed.

Glancing down at her tall-heeled Italian pumps with a frown, What? Sam blurted

Oh, nothing, Patty replied with an innocent expression as Elise giggled behind her hands.

With you, Patty, dear, it’s never, ever, oh nothing! Sam huffed, resuming her perch. So, where’s the boss off to? I saw her come up from down the street, but apparently she made good her escape before I got here.

She just met the new accountant. She’s up there explaining what she laughingly calls expense chits to him, Elise smiled blandly at the detective over her cup. He was quite insistent. I do believe he said something about scrawled notes on napkins no longer being acceptable, or some such.

Hmm. He did! Did he? Sam murmured, nodding thoughtfully. Boy, are we in trouble!

Don’t look at me, Patty grinned impishly. We have stacks of expense slips in the supply lockers from years ago! I say years ago because nobody bothers to use them. I went to all the trouble to design a nice little voucher printed on the face of a nice little envelope so all you had to do was list expenses on the outside and stuff receipts inside. Do you realize how many slave-driving bosses actually make you staple them to a piece of paper? she finished, her voice dripping with just a little sarcasm.

We have them? Sam blurted in an incredulous tone, completely ignoring the jibe. Never saw one. Didn’t know they existed.

My point, exactly! Patty said acerbically, opening a desk drawer. How could you ever have seen one if no one uses them - and if they don’t use them, why, oh why, would they ever tell you about them! Fishing a pink pad out of the drawer, she tossed it at the detective.

Hey, Sam chuckled with an appreciative nod after catching it one-handed and scanning it. These really are nice! Good work, Patty! she grinned, tossing them back. I’ll make a note.

I believe the whole idea, Samantha, dear, is for you to make a note on these, Patty snorted, tossing them back.

Hefting the largish pad with a grin, Sam stood, doing a twirl in her form-fit suit. I get your drift, Patty, me love. Really I do, but where, she drawled, waving the pad distastefully, did you expect me to put a volume this size in this outfit?

Frowning, Patty began to say something, but the constable simply shook her head, interjecting, Pick the battles you can win, Patty! with another giggle.

At that, however, folding her arms angrily, the exec glared over her desk. "Hey! Second to Marlowe, I’m the boss! I’m supposed to win sometimes! It’s in the goddamned handbook!"

Oh, Patty! You win your share. More than! the redhead giggled merrily, waving nonchalantly, But not when it comes to making our favorite fashion plate carry lumpy things in her pockets!

Who’s a fashion plate? came Sam’s offended voice as Patty nodded, head tilted, admitting she saw the constable’s point.

Doesn’t mean she can’t keep them in her desk, or her car, or just carry one in her damned bra or shoe, if nothing else! she added in a purposeful tone, stabbing a couple buttons on her phone.

Oh-oh! Looks serious, Sam frowned at Elise.

Gee! Ya think? the constable grinned, winking evilly.

Yes, Patty, came the male voice of Patty’s chief of staff from the speaker as Elise chuckled and Sam spluttered in the background.

Joseph? Please see that all of the investigative staff have at least a half dozen pads of the pink expense vouchers from the second floor supply room on their desks by the end of the day, will you? In fact, see that everyone in the firm gets them. You might also type up a memo detailing the manner in which they are to be used - just in case it should prove too complex a concept for our esteemed investigators to figure out, eh? Oh! Please include something about them being required for reimbursement, henceforth? Put it over my name. I’ll let Ben know, she added with a wicked grin before disconnecting.

That was mean, Sam said, hands on hips, making a face.

Nope, just necessary, Patty sighed, shaking her head. Outfit’s growing by leaps and bounds. We need to keep better track. We’ve been lucky, so far, but P.I. outfits get audited, too, you know.

Oh, all right, Sam agreed grudgingly. Pausing while stuffing a pad in one of her pockets, however, she shrugged. Dropping it on Patty’s desk, Since I’ll be getting some later, anyway, she grinned.

Doesn’t mean you can’t take those with you and put ‘em in your car! Patty snorted, pointing at the pad for emphasis. Taking a deep breath, letting it out slowly, the detective grudgingly picked it up.

Brava`! So far, so good! Elise chuckled, applauding. Now! Tell me how, exactly, you plan on getting her highness to use them?

Oh, the usual way, the XO laughed.

What? Sweet talk? Sam grinned, waving the pad at her face like a fan.

No. Oh, no. That never works. Not with her. Threats! Patty shrugged. The room erupted in a round of laughter, quieting as she finally dealt the worn cards. Afterward, like the good friends they truly were, they played and chatted about other things while simply enjoying each other’s company.

* * *

Quite some time later, with an appropriate sigh of resignation, Marlowe sat at one end of the football shaped main conference table, across from the accountant. She’d taken a short break, stretching and gazing out the steel-framed industrial windows that lined one wall of this room while doing what appeared to Ben to be several yoga exercises. They’d met in his office, just down the hall, originally, but she’d decided they really needed to move into the big room after taking one look at the ‘pile’. We seem to be making progress, anyway, she nodded at the much smaller stacks of miscellaneous papers on the table. Much of the original stacks had found their way into neatly labeled envelopes.

True. Should only take a couple more hours, Ben grinned cheerfully.

Rolling her eyes, Only a couple more hours? Yuk! Making a disgusted face and a decision, rising again, she grabbed her jacket. Not on an empty gut, it ain’t. Get your coat, bub, she declared.

Why am I doing that? he frowned.

Cool day, she quipped, slipping hers on. You want to catch a chill on the way to lunch, have it your own way.

Oh, that’s okay, he said, returning to his notes.

No! It’s not! I insist! she smiled from the door while casually flipping her hair over her collar. He opened his mouth to say something, then probably figured it wasn’t a good idea to refuse the big boss’s offer of lunch. Standing with a nod of resignation or agreement, one, as her grin broadened, he grabbed his own jacket from the back of his chair and followed her down the hall.

Business or chit-chat? he grinned as they passed his office.

Both, likely, she replied, rolling her eyes as he ducked in to his desk, pulling a pad of pink expense vouchers out of a side drawer. Peeling one off, he stashed it in his inside jacket pocket before depositing the rest where they’d come from. She was shaking her head when he rejoined her. You and that brown-haired slave driver that signs your checks are just bound and determined to make me use the things, aren’t you? she grinned, heading for the stairwell. He’d made to stop at the elevator, but shrugged and followed her instead as she pushed both doors open, skipping lightly down the stairs after shoving her hands in her pockets. Glancing up at the bottom while pushing against a crash bar with her backside, she laughed at his expression. It’s how I keep my girlish figure, she grinned. Never take elevators.

Since when do you have to worry, he snorted at the trim figured woman, wincing on realizing just who he’d snorted it to.

Why, thank you, kind sir, she giggled, performing an impromptu curtsey on the sidewalk as he exited behind her.

Uh. I just meant . . ., he began, his face reddening.

Forget about it! I take my compliments wherever I get ‘em, she grinned, adding, winking playfully, I don’t do bad for an old lady!

Jeez, you sound like my Great-Aunt Mary, he laughed, and you’re a lot younger than she is!

You sure about that? she teased with an ear to ear grin, walking backwards while waiting for him to catch up. Playfully hooking her arm in his when he did, she bounced along beside him, an impish grin on her face. He shook his head at her exuberance. She was acting like a high-school girl on a date.

Pretty sure, he chuckled, not quite believing his own eyes. He’d heard all the stories, both the scuttlebutt around the office and what was going around the streets about her, but she sure wasn’t what he’d expected. Not at all. In fact, a lot of the stories he’d heard had maintained the very attractive and youthful seeming woman on his arm could practically dismantle a guy three times her size - and had done it more than once.

Appearances can be quite deceiving, Benjamin, she replied, half-smiling cryptically. He’d heard about that, too, and was suddenly unsure as to whether she was responding to his spoken comment or his thoughts. Especially around our little company, she added, shaking her head with an offhanded chuckle. So. What brings you here, anyway?

You insisted I join you for lunch, he deadpanned.

Oh, you’ve been hanging around with Ed, haven’t you? she laughed. It was a full-throated, musical sound; as honest and up front as she seemed to be.

Ed? he frowned.

Our pathologist, she explained. He has that same deadpan delivery. I meant, though, what brought you to Marlowe, Inc.?

Oh, that! he nodded. Thinking a moment, he replied, grinning, catching her mood, The picture on the magazine cover?

Jeez! Did everybody in the world see that thing? she laughed. Besides, that was a while ago!

Oh, hell! That cover’s still making the rounds of the locker rooms at all the precincts, I think, he chortled. It was quite a photo!

Photo my ass! she snorted. That was a damned drawing - and freely done at that! Do I really look anything like the brunette Barbie doll on that cover? she laughed

Glancing at her with a grin, Well, maybe a little, he nodded.

Angling for a promotion already, huh? she chuckled. Seriously, Ben, what made you pump Patty for a job?

After thinking about it, he declared, Actually, I think it was the scuttlebutt around the precinct.

Oh! So we’re a bunch of scuttlebutts, eh? she giggled.

Oh, hell, you guys are legend, he snorted, ignoring the remark. "Apparently you can get in any where and find out any thing, and don’t bother trying to figure it out! I heard a guy say he tried following you once, and he swears you made him in half a block, then got lost in a crowd of three people."

Do tell, she grinned. Slipping her arm from his as they walked, rubbing her eyebrows the wrong way, she lowered them in an ornery frown. Quickly tying her hair up with a hanky she pulled from a pocket, pulling in her full lips, hunching the jacket up around her neck, slouching in general, she stopped beside a group of people at the bus stop. It only took a couple of seconds. After a few steps, Ben realized she wasn’t there any longer and turned - only to look around in confusion, including right at her a couple of times. Giggling merrily, she straightened and waved at him. He shook his head in appreciative wonder as, grinning from ear to ear, she nonchalantly moistened her fingers and ran them over her brows, returning them to a well-groomed state. Shrugging her jacket down around her shoulders, she pulled the hanky from her hair, shook it out over her collar with a toss of her head, and bounced up to join him. A lot of identity is projection, she explained, retaking his arm and resuming a brisk pace. You just have to learn to project someone else.

Oh. Is that all, he grinned.

Yeah. That’s about it, she replied cheerfully.

Yeah? What about the lady cop who told me she followed you to a lady’s room, waited outside, almost went after a woman who looked like you, but was blonde, then went in to find nobody there. What about that? he snorted.

A-a-a-ah! Highly classified company secrets we are into now, my young apprentice, she intoned, sonorously, nodding. This was quickly followed by an impishly grinned, Stick around, bubba!

And? he chuckled at her quick changes in mannerism.

You’ll find that you indeed know very little, about a great many things, she frowned, nodding with a serious expression before, adroitly shifting gears, she grinned at him, giggling, So, what did you do in the NYPD, daddy?

Actually, I was angling for a gold shield in robbery/homicide, he replied, seriously. I figured, after all those years on the beat, I had a pretty good idea who was a potential victim - as well as who was likely to do ‘em in.

Uh-huh! The wife didn’t care for it much, huh, she nodded, jumping right in with both feet.

Somebody has a big mouth, he muttered.

I’ll tell Patty you said so, she grinned, making him wince, before adding in a serious tone, One thing you’d better learn about Marlowe, Inc., my friend, is that we stick together - like cops. Unlike some cops, though, we also help each other out, when needed, or through things, when needed. The rest of the time? She shrugged. Well, we’re just your average bunch of wisecracking 8-balls that think absolutely nothing at all of raking each other over the coals - on little or no provocation! She chuckled. I hope you ain’t got a thin skin, bubba!

Not really! he laughed. Not after all my years in the department! Heck, after six years at the four-three, I got a hide like a rhinoceros!

The four-three? she snorted in derision. "Ah, hell! Those mooks’re nothin’ but a bunch of candy-asses! I’ll take you by my old stomping grounds at the two-two, sometime. Now, those guys know how to party!" she chuckled, inanely, blithely leading him into one of her favorite coffee and sandwich joints as his brows went up.

Hey, look who’s here! a boyish looking redhead seated with a very pretty, dark haired girl and a tall gentleman in a nondescript brown suit sang out as they walked in, effectively forestalling any questions he might want to ask at her last comment. Hey, boss lady, pull up and have a sit! Your usual? the girl added, flagging down a waitress. Hey, Rosita! Get your cute little butt over here! We got paying customers now!

I can see why nothing’s getting done in the lab today! Jerry laughed, good-naturedly, pulling out a fourth chair and waving Ben to join in as the others made room. Cop coffee, stacked ham on dark kosher rye with kick-butt cheddar, mayo, and a dollop of horsey-radish, she grinned at Rosita, then held a hand out to Ben.

Now that sounds like a serious sandwich! I’ll have the same, he chuckled, pulling a chair from another table as the others studied him curiously. The boss introduced him, grinning. Oka-a-ay! Get your receipts in order, ladies. You, too, Ed. There’s a brand-new bookkeeping marshal in town, and he’s gunnin’ for accountability! Meet Ben Davison, if you haven’t already.

Davison, eh? We’ve met by e-mail, the redhead snorted drily. Something about using lower priced specimen bags! Marianne Martin, cheapskate!

"Oh-hoooo! Here we go! Jerry grinned mischievously, wide-eyed, pointedly looking the accountant up and down. Talk about throwing the gauntlet down! Telling the forensics team they can’t have something? I’m surprised our mild-mannered redhead, here, hasn’t sent you just about everywhere in a whole lot of test tubes."

Lilly, the dark haired girl smiled easily, rolling her eyes and holding out a hand, which he took with a grin. Marianne’s the CSI. I’m the lab tech.

The cadaverous looking guy with the notebooks is Ed, our star pathologist, Jerry grinned, shedding her jacket. Despite what you may hear around the shop, he’s quite a scintillating conversationalist, actually, she giggled. This time it was Ed who rolled his eyes and shook his head. He was born with a pencil and notebook in his hand, she nodded, grinning lopsidedly, eyebrow up. When this guy says, ‘I’ll make a note,’ he ain’t just whistlin’ Dixie!

Hmm. I’ll make a note, the accountant deadpanned to groans around the table.

Oboy! This mook’s gonna fit in just fine around here. I can tell already, Marianne chuckled.

Yeah. I was beginning to get that impression, Jerry grinned, rolling her eyes. So, what’s this about specimen bags?

Since he suddenly seemed to have the floor, clearing his throat, I merely suggested she didn’t have to buy the most expensive ones on the market when there are suitable bags available at half the cost, or thereabouts, Ben attempted.

Yeah, I got your cut-rate bags! Right here, cheapskate! Marianne grunted with an only slightly obscene gesture that was almost hidden under the table.

O-okay, guys! Jerry laughed, shaking her head, deciding maybe they should deal with it right now. Shake hands, go to your corners and wait for the bell! She turned to the CSI. Marianne, my dear, why the expensive bags? Remember, it’s ultimately my nickel you’re spending!

They don’t leak, the tech shrugged. I really prefer not having my samples leaking down into my toes after slopping on my ankles. Yuk!

Uh-huh. Nodding, Jerry turned to Ben as if to say, Your turn.

I would think all the bags on the market have to meet industry standards, and feel safe in assuming that if they’re on the market, they meet standards against leakage, he declared. Nodding again, Marlowe turned to the investigator for rebuttal.

The standards apply to normal lab usage, she began. As in, taken in the lab under controlled conditions, not transported, and carefully handled during subsequent examination. Quite often, though, field specimens are gathered under not-so-great circumstances, then tossed into bags or cardboard boxes with who knows what all else - sometimes even zipped into body bags with the victims for transport. We need a tough bag. One that’ll take some abuse.

Nodding at her point, Jerry turned to Ben again, grinning.

Yeah! But at twice the cost? he simply frowned.

Nodding again, she leaned back, looking from one to the other, considering. Uh-huh, she grunted, after a minute or so, still nodding. Marianne, you deal with your suppliers directly, don’t you?

Actually, Lilly does most of the admin work, the redhead admitted.

Okay, Lilly, then, she nodded, turning to face her. Get with the suppliers Ben’s been looking at for cost. Have them send us samples of all their stuff. Ed, Marianne, set some of them up with dummy loads - water, beans, hamburger, chicken bones, gravel, whatever - clearly labelling them as to manufacturer and product ID. Throw them in some boxes with some other junk and just have the crews carry them around for a while. Throw them around the vans. Kick them a few times. See what holds up. If we can get something that holds up as well - or well enough to not matter - as the high priced bags, try a couple cartons of them in the field. See what happens. As Patty’s so fond of telling me, we have to save pennies where we can, just like any other business. Okay?

Okay, Lilly shrugged as Marianne rolled her eyes.

Now, now, Marianne. I want you to keep on using the good ones until we see if the cheaper ones work. If they work, though, why not? Jerry grinned before adding, If the good ones really are that much better, though, you might mention the cost savings of the less expensive bags to your sales rep. See what he or she’s willing to do on pricing to keep our business, eh?

Marianne couldn’t argue with that. When she shrugged and nodded, Jerry looked around the table, happily. There, problem solved! Hey, Bennie! I actually earned my keep today! she grinned at the accountant. Matter of fact, we’ll use that as the standard procedure for testing and selecting all of our supplies from here on in. Somebody wants to sell us something, they’ll need to let us have enough samples to field test up front, but we keep on using what we know works until the test results are in and everybody’s happy! Okay?

Fine with me! Ben grinned. This why they pay you the big bucks?

"Don’t go there! she frowned at him. Grinning as their lunches arrived, she added, Besides, I just made this little soiree a