Username:Mid-Afternoon Madness
Word Count:7701
Name of Story: Murders in Detroit
Monday. Apr. 20. 4:15am
The slow, measured ticking of the cat clock that hung on the wall drove Tom crazy. He ,wasn't sure if it was the ticking or the fact that it's unbelievably bright black eyes were constantly fixed upon him. Sure, his lover, who lay sleeping beside him, looking like the angel Tom knew he could be if he ever really wanted to, could argue that the cat clock was looking at him, but Tom had the cat's number. He knew what was going on it's sick, kitty-cat, mechanical mind.
The realization that he had just thought of a cat clock as a being a living, thinking...thing...had him moving from bed, stretching before padding quietly towards the kitchen where the sweet, heavenly nectar of the gods awaited. It was ready, in all it's glory, in the top right hand cabinet beside the sink and Tom grabbed it, preparing it as quickly as he possibly could.
If Tom was being honest with himself, as he sometimes was, he would clearly inform himself that it was not a cat clock or even the coffee that had kept him anticipating the night. It was the time he had to work. Alone. His partner at work was good at his job, yes, and he loved falling asleep in his lover's arms and waking up there too, but the fact would always remain that he needed to work alone sometimes. He needed to be stress free.
He took his cup of the god's drink and made his way to the office area to go over the cases he had been recently awarded. There was a kidnapping, which looked to be wrapped up quickly if the mother was right in assuming that it was her ex-husband.. There was a disappearance that had been pushed aside for months and was just now being sent to him. Tom had little hope for it. The last one was a murder. Just one so far, thank god. He remembered still how bad the city had reacted just ten years ago, when a serial killer had been loose. This case had been kept fairly hush-hush as far as he knew. He didn't need to really watch or read the news when he practically lived it everyday, or heard about it from those who did it.
Brushing back his black hair, he settled on a bit of a sigh before opening the files. He had to get in some time before his lover woke up and was pissed at him for working at home again.
Time: unknown-
Sam sat in the bathroom, warm water on his hands, washing the mess off of them. He looked at the mirror and couldn't help but smile at himself, then looking to the right, seeing a woman laying on his floor. He grabbed a wash rag and washed off his face, making sure every spot was gone. He walked back out when he was done, changing his clothes and burning the ones he was wearing. He walked to the woman, crouching down and putting a number 2 on her chest.
"Gotta run, hun. I have... well, I don't really think they'll take to long to get here," he chuckled, picking up the phone and dialing 911.
"911, where's your emergency?"
"A woman was killed about ten minutes ago at 611 Huntings Drive," he answered, picking the red out of his nails.
"Alright, we will be sending an ambulance, don't leave."
"Oh, that's not possible."
"I'm sorry, sir, what did you say?"
"I'm saying I'm going to leave, because I killed her," he said, hanging up after and leaving the house. He smiled, walking down the street.
As Tom sat in his house, looking over the files, his phone started ringing. Tom frowned down at the file on the killer. He would have to wait for the autopsy report since those were strictly supposed to stay in office, but the profile the criminal psychologist had made on the killer was disheartening. It listed a number of qualities the killer would have now, among them the fact that the killer was possibly able to become a serial killer, since that first kill had been so well executed. There was almost no evidence of who the killer could be--no fingerprints, no hair follicles, no flakes of skin or anything like that. The criminal psychologist was the only way they even knew that the killer could be male, and that wasn't the most reliable form of evidence.
It was starting to look like this was going to be a very long case unless someone came forward with testimonies or concrete evidence.
The phone beside him rang obnoxiously and he quickly picked it up so his lover didn't wake.
"Detective Strands speaking," he murmured as he stood and grabbed his jacket from the coat rack, intent on taking the phone call outside. "Detective? There's been a 911 call and we need you at the scene. We believe the killer is the same as in a case you are working, since it's the same MO," the person explained quickly.
Sam hummed lightly as he walked down the street, smiling sinisterly when the cop cars went by. He flipped open his phone, calling someone back.
"Hello Mr. Long, I'm glad you called back."
"Ah, yes, I saw you called and wondered why?"
"Well, I just wanted to inform you that we have found a few people who could be able to take you in, if you still need help."
"I hate admitting, but I do. Have any fully agreed?"
"No, none have been notified as of yet, we needed to tell you first," the woman answered, then the rest of the call was a casual farewell. "********," he muttered, slipping his other arm into the sleeve as he balanced the phone precariously between his shoulder and ear. "I'll be right there. Just put the address in GPS of my car and tell them not to touch a damn thing, alright?" He quickly hung up and pocketed his phone, hurrying back to his room to pull some proper pants on and grab his gun and badge. He pressed a soft kiss to his lover's forehead when he was done, then rushed out.
His car was an inconspicuous little Sedan, made specifically to look like the most innocent car on the planet. On the insde, though, was a custom system with a GPS, radio and small dash computer that were installed in normal squad cars. He had paid for most of that with his own money, though the department had given him a bit of help with it. The money he had spent himself had been worth it though. When he needed to do undercover work, it was the perfect car for the job. Tom slid into the vehicle and started it up, booting up the GPS and selecting the address that had been sent, quickly heading there. If he recalled correctly, it was just five blocks from the scene of the first murder. That in itself was a particularly daring thing to do. People had been searching the whol city for hints of the murderer.. For the murderer to excute a crime just five blocks from the first? That was... Well, it was just ridiculous. Tom would bet his badge that it was probably a clean crime scene too--no evidence, nothing to properly work with to catch the killer. He could only hope that he was wrong and that the killer had made a mistake in this second murder. Sam jumped in his car, parked conveniently in someones drive-way. Once there, he put his bloody gloves in the trunk. He knew they wouldn't burn like the clothes did, so he didn't. He always wore two on each hand, as precaution. He picked up a list and crossed the womans name off. Her name started with B, the first mans with A. Next was Christian Adams, the owner of a chain of restaurants. He also lived just ten blocks down the road.
Sam put the list back, getting in his car and waiting as he saw a car go by. It was a nice little Sedan, looking innocent, but heading to the scene of a murder. Sam couldn't help but smile a little, pulling out and heading the other way.
"Stupid police..." When Tom pulled up to the scene, all he saw was chaos. The street was lined with police cars and Forensics vans, and the house itself was swarming with police. There was a whole line of police tape around house, tied to the trees in front of it and to the fence to give complete coverage. Neighbors of the victim were being interviewed by a few of his fellow police officers, but it looked as if his partner was already inside. He parked horizontally, cutting off entrance into the street since it seemed no one had done that yet, and quickly got out. It took him just a moment to duck under the police tape, flash his badge at the officer patrolling it, and move into the scene of the crime. He glanced at his partner, who was already there.
"Who's the victim?" he asked, taking out a small notepad to take his own notes on the crime. The man was tall, and rather buff looking. He seemed to spend a lot of time working out, and had very short, military cut blond hair.
"Brianne Harrison. She's the daughter of a wealthy family. She lives here with her husband, no kids. Tom, I swear to you, it is the same exact guy. No finger prints, a pile of ashes in the yard, a note in the desk drawer about her time and cause of death, the number... everything is the exact same. This was a perfect murder, and we are not finding this guy any time soon," he explained, looking at the man who was now standing beside him.
"What do you suppose we do?" Tom shook his head slightly as he looked at the once pretty woman. A woman with no children, just a husband, alone in a house in the early morning hours. She had clearly been an easy victim. So had the other one though. If he recalled, Andrew Higgens was a wealthy man who lived just with his wife. All of their kids were grown and had moved out already and his wife had been with some relatives in LA the night of the murder.
"Has anyone called the husband yet? I want him down at the station and questioned while we pack up the body. We need to look into if this woman had anything to do with the first victim. Both were wealthy or from wealthy families. I want checks on any country clubs or high end restaurants and I want them cross-referenced to see if they were killed for a similar motive. It might also give us an insight into the next victim." He took down the woman's name and crouched down to get a better look at the body.
"Paul, I want you to make sure the autopsy report turns out the same cause of death as what the note said. Go with them when they take the body, alright? Meet me in the office this afternoon and we'll go through the evidence together, as well as do the research on their families. I don't want to call this a serial killer yet, alright? And somebody make damn sure that none of this gets into the papers. The Department can't afford to have reporters hounding us or name the serial killer something like they have before. It'll just fuel the killer's fire." Paul nodded, waiting as the body was loaded once everything was done and they took whatever they needed. Once the body was taken, he went with, and called in a report with what Tom said they needed to have, also telling them to inform the husband.
"Oh, cant the press does not find out about this, alright?" he added emphasis on that, hoping there wouldn't be a problem.
Sam hummed lightly as he sat in his car, looking at the home of Christian Adams. He studied the house, checking to make sure e had a way in and out easily. Once done, he smiled and drove away, heading back to his home. The woman Paul spoke to responded in the affirmative, wished him luck on the case and hung up, hurrying to order everyone around. Tom himself made his way to the police station to begin his own work. He called his house at stoplight, leaving a message.
"I've got a case, love, so I might not be home until tonight.. Take care of yourself and call me if you need anything. Make sure you take the trash out and go shopping too, I think we're out of milk." The light turned green and he pressed the gas, moving forward. "I love you." He shut his phone with a soft snap and tossed it into the passenger seat as he continued to the station. Once Tom arrived, he was there for and hour or so until Paul showed up.
"They haven't finished, but they said the cause of death is definitely the same as the letter. So, have you found anything significant yet?" he asked, sitting across from the man at his own desk. He looked at the pictures and files of both victims so far, blinking in slight confusion.
"Hey... you know, this probably doesn't matter, and probably isn't even something to really look at, but... well, the first guys name started with an A, the second with a B," Tom shook his head. "Nothing significant yet. Their families didn't even know each other. They didn't go to any of the same restaurants or held any mutual company. They ran in totally different circuits." He tossed his notepad onto the desk with a sigh, rubbing his eyes. As Paul pointed out the coincidence in names, though, he straightened up.
"They what?" He quickly glanced over the files and saw he was right. "No.. No, this could be something." He picked up the phone and called their research department.
"I want a list of anyone with substantial wealth or from a wealthy family with a first name starting with C. Make sure it's the first name, not the last name, and email it to me when you're done." The man on the other line agreed, hanging up so he could work.
"You really think this isn't just a coincidence?" Paul asked, knowing it was a long shot. He looked over once more and that seemed to be the only relation, other than that they were wealthy.
Soon tom had the email. The list had many names on it, along with their income.
"So... are we going to warn them all?" Paul asked, a little worried about how many there were.
"Maybe... since the second murder was five blocks away, we could narrow it down to the number of names in that area?" "We have little to go on, Paul. Even if this is a coincidence, we have to run with it.." Tom pulled up the email once he got it, glancing over the names and incomes. There were quite a few, they wouldn't be able to run them all.
"Yes, let's go by location. Maybe do another five to fifteen block sweep.." He trailed off, calling them again to get the new, narrowed down list and hung up when they agreed.
"We'll warn the ones who show up on that list and put more patrol out for the next few weeks. It's been one week since the first murder, yes? Today was the second. We'll up the patrol for a week and tell them to either stay somewhere else or up their own security for the next month. If we can't find him within that time frame, we may not have a serial killer.. I hope we don't anyway." The email with the narrowed list arrived quickly, and now there was only 10 names. Paul nodded, looking over the list as well. He picked up his phone and began putting people at different locations.
"I'll take five and you take five?" he offered, standing and pulling on his jacket.
"I hate telling people they could die," he mumbled, grabbing his gun as well.
Sam finally returned home, pulling off his jacket and flopping on an old beat up couch. He whistled lightly, holding up his arm as a large Cockatoo came and landed on his arm. He hummed softly, listening to the bird sing back.
"In two weeks, I'll do C," he whispered as if the creature would understand.
"Yeah, that'll be fine." He stood as well, pulling on his own jacket and gathering his phone. He checked it briefly for any messages from his lover and when he didn't find any as of yet, entered in the names and locations and slipped it into his pocket. "Believe me, I do too.. And we can't even give them a good reason why." He sighed a bit, knowing that all the people would be confused and would ask him questions. He only hoped that they wouldn't tell anybody anything.
"If Shay calls, tell him to text me, alright?" he told one of the secretaries, who sometimes patched his lover through to his desk if he ever forgot to just call his cellphone. Tom turned back to Paul. "You take the first five, alright?"
Paul nodded, looking at the list.
"Sounds good. Meet back here?" he asked to make sure. Once they were out, he got in his own car and drove off to the first address: Christian Adams.
Back at Tom's home, the phone rang. When Shay answered, a woman was on the other line.
"Hello, is this the home of Thomson Strands?"
"Yeah, see you back here," Tom said, before leaving as well, driving quickly to the address of the first person on his list, Cynthia Lines.
Shay sighed a bit. People still didn't say "Thomason Strands and Shay Jeffrey" and they'd been living together for a few months shy of a year already. Still, he couldn't be too angry he supposed. "Ah.. Yes, this is. May I ask who's calling?"
"I'm Natalie Williams, and I would like to ask if he would be willing to participate in a new project. We are trying to get troubled individuals off the streets and help them to turn their lives around, and we believe Mr. Strands would be good for one of our participants. Would you pass on the message?" she informed kindly.
Sam got up, putting his bird back in her cage and feeding her, smiling lightly.
"We might be moving away soon, hun. You excited?" he asked, though he knew she wouldn't respond at all.
Shay's expression cleared of confusion and brightened. "Of course he would! He's at work right now, but he should be back this evening. Did you have anyone in particular that needed a home yet? If you do, I wouldn't mind them coming this evening to meet him. He could sign any paperwork and anything then as well." He knew that Tom wouldn't be too happy with him deciding immediately, but the program would be good for him. He dealt with sad cases so often, most especially the murder ones.. If he could help a person, Shay felt that it would maybe make him happier in day to day life, not so haunted.
The woman was a little shocked at the sudden answer.
"Well... yes, actually, we do have someone that could be there. He will stop by with his guardian, and Mr. Strands can sign the paperwork. Thank you for your kind contribution," she said. The talk continue for a few moment longer before ending.
Sam looked over when his cell rang.
"This is Daniel Long speaking." he answered.
"Hello Mr.Long. We believe we have found a home for you to stay in."
"Oh? Alright, what do I have to do?"
"Just wait home and your guardian will be there to pick you up and take you to the new home."
"Okay."
Shay hung up the phone, smiling and calling his lover to inform him. It rang for six or seven times before going to voice mail, so he decided to text him quickly.
Hey, u kno how I tlkd abt that thing? W/the ppl who need homes? U got accptd. Theyll b here tnite! <3 u.
Tom pulled his phone from his pocket as he drove to the last house on the list, reading over the message quickly. The first thing to hit was a slight irritation that his lover still refused to text properly and the next was a bit of anger.
You made the decision without me there? He texted back, frowning when all he got in return was a yes and a few "sorry"s. He came upon the house a moment later though and didn't have time to dwell on the thought. It's not like he could change something that had already happened, after all.
A couple hours or so went by before "Daniel" was greeted by a knock on the door from his guardian.
Paul went through the houses, explaining to the people what was going on. A few didn't believe him, but said they would be careful. He sighed, returning to the station to write a report for the day so he didn't have to do it later.
Sam had gotten his bags packed with what he would need, put his bird in the cage and smiled. He opened the creaky, almost broken down, door. He smiled kindly, grabbing his bags and walking out.
"So, who's the lucky people?"
Tom met some resistance as well, but eventually get them all to agree to upping security for at least the next two weeks, and went back to the station as well. He met Paul outside with a tired smile. "How'd it go?"
His guardian smiled and helped him with his bags. "Well, it's actually a detective and his partner. Detective Thomason Strands and Shay Jeffrey, if memory serves me. Detective Strands may not be there when we get there, but Mr. Jeffrey will be there to greet you and we can wait for Detective Strands to come and fill out the rest of the paperwork since he'll be your primary contact."
"Detective?" Sam asked. That wasn't expected, but nothing to be done now.
"Okay, neat," he said, taking his bird to the front seat with him.
"How long is the drive?" he asked curiously, buckling his seat belt.
"Yep. A rather decorated detective actually," the guardian said as he put Sam's bags in the back and then slid into the driver's seat. "It should take..Hm... Fifteen minutes or so?" He flashed a kind smile at him.
"Do you have any other questions about the family? I can tell you most of the details except what they'll actually be setting you up with and such. You'll have to talk to the Detective and Mr. Jeffrey about that."
"Oh, good, and yes, I do have a few questions: What kind of detective is he, and do they mind birds?" he asked curiously, sticking his finger in the cage and smiling when the bird tapped him with her beak.
Paul called Tom on his cell quickly, before finishing his report.
"Are you done? Do you want me to type the report up for you?"
"I think he's a violent crime detective. It's all very hush-hush so far, but I know he's working on a case at the moment, according to what his partner said," the guardian smiled at him. "And they don't mind birds at all. Mr. Jeffrey said that they didn't have pets at the moment, but were welcome to it."
Tom answered when he saw who it was. "Yeah, I'm done. I think I need to head home though. Shay got it into his head to help someone "get on track" and I have to be there to sign the papers. Thanks for the help, buddy."
Sam nodded. He had a nagging feeling that this person could be a curse, but it might be helpful to keep an eye on him, just in case he was working on Sam's case.
"Fun," he mused lightly, looking out the window as they entered the neighborhood.
"No problem, see you tomorrow." Paul responded before hanging up, finishing the rest of his work quickly so he could go home.
"Haha, I suppose. Now, I think what Mr. Jeffrey does allows for a lot of time at home, so he'll probably be the one helping you get settled the most." The guardian informed as he began looking at the number on each house, looking for the one to pull into. A small sedan zoomed past them and turned into a driveway just up ahead.
Tom got out of his car and, looking to make sure no other cars were there yet, hurried up to the house. When he got in, Shay was setting out a small snack and some tea and water, humming softly.
"So, when were you going to tell me about this, hm?" Tom said, crossing his arms. Shay gave him a bit of a guilty look back, but didn't have time to say anything as the doorbell rang.
The guardian waited at the door, having pulled in just a moment after Tom when he realized that it was the house he was supposed to drop Sam off at.
Sam stood beside him with his bird cage and a duffle bag while the guardian held his suitcase, which was rather small. He didn't have many items that needed to go with, so he was pretty simple. When the door was opened, he smiled pleasantly at the man, greeting him and walking in when they were welcomed. He put the bird cage beside him on the couch, his bags on the side of the couch.
"I just want to say, thank you for opening your home to me, Mr. Strands and Mr. Jeffrey." he said calmly with a pleasant smile.
Shay had been the one to open the door, figuring that to greet the poor young man who would be in their car with a grump expression wouldn't be good. The guardian shook his hand and smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Jeffrey."
"Oh, thank you. It's nice to meet you as well." He lead both the young man and his guardian in, smiling at how polite he was. Tom stood with his arm crossed and a stern expression as Shay responded to the man. "Of course! We're happy to help. Please call me Shay though. What's your name?"
Sam held out his hand for Shay to shake.
"I'm Daniel Long, and this is Mari," he said, looking at his bird. The white female squawked at her name, her feathers ruffling slightly.
"So... I just want to ask if there's any rules I need to follow while I stay? I heard that you're a detective, Mr. Strands? Are there any off limit places for me?" he asked curiously, wanting to get as much information on the man. If he had off-limit places, that is likely where he kept case files, and would be the first place to check once Sam had a chance.
"I want to be as little of a burden as I can."
Shay shook his hand, smiling at him. "It's nice to meet you, Daniel. And hello there Mari, would you like a treat? I think I have some poppy seeds. Is it alright if she has poppy seeds?" He cooed at the bird, smiling.
Tom regarded "Daniel" with a sharp gaze. "I am a detective, yes. Stay out of anything that it isn't yours." Shay turned and glared at Tom a bit.
"Tom! Be nice for god's sakes... I'm sorry, he's really grumpy after a day at work. Just stay out of the office, alright?"
Sam smiled, nodding.
"Yes, she does. Thank you," he said, then looked a little taken back by how mean Tom was. He nodded at Shay's answer, smiling and deciding it was best to just talk with him.
"Thank you, I'll be sure to stay away... so, anything else I need to know, or you want to know about me?" he asked curiously, knowing he had the back story of his alias complete and would answer anything.
Shay shook his head a bit. "Not for now, no. We can get to know each other after we get all the paper work signed." He turned to the guardian and smiled.
"Of course, of course. Here ya go." The guardian pulled out the paperwork and handed it over. Shay, continuing to be the gracious host in light of his lover's bad attitude, gestured for them to sit at the table and have some of the snacks and tea if they wished while he went to go get a pen and the poppy seeds for Mari.
Sam got up and grabbed some of the snacks, smiling happily.
"Very good," he smiled, letting Mari out so she can eat the seeds out of her bowl, out of the small cage. He waited as the paperwork was finished, knowing the detective was very reluctant.
"So, where can I take my bags?" he asked once everything was done.
Shay was very pleased with the young man's good manners and tried repeatedly through the paperwork being filled out to try to drag Tom into conversation, but his lover was having none of that. He had practically slammed the papers into the guardian's arms and ushered him out of the house before going straight to his office.
"Ah.." Shay sighed softly before turning his attention to Sam. "Let me show you. I had the room all set up with a bed, a dresser and a desk. We had an extra computer too, so I just put it in there. We can use it when i help you with a resume and job applications and such." He lead Sam to a mid-sized room with a bed in one corner, a desk in the other, and and dresser and nightstand between them. A nice looking Mac was on the desk, all set up and turned on and everything.
"Wow... the two of you are very kind. Well... you are at least," he chuckled nervously, putting his bags down and sitting on the bed.
"You think he'll be in a better mood later?" he asked, scratching his neck nervously. Most of this was simply an act. He needed to do all he could for these people to trust him, even if it meant he had to practically roll over and let them rub his stomach like a dog.
"Oh, and... is he working on any exciting cases?" Sam asked curiously, acting like an excited spectator rather than someone trying to avoid jail time, at least until he got through the alphabet.
"Oh... Well. He's sometimes like that." Shay looked a bit ashamed of his lover's behavior. "I'm sorry about it though. I'm sure he'll warm up to you.. But he really is quite nice when that happens.." He remembered when he had first met Tom, it was the cynical charm and sarcasm that had drawn him, but in an actual relationship... Well, it started to get old.
"Cases.. Well, I'm not at liberty to say exactly, but he is working on a few," Shay said. "Maybe if you ask him, he'll share some of the information? Are you interested in police work?"
Sam nodded with a slight smile.
"Yes, I am. My father was an officer," half true. His father was a crooked cop, but a cop nonetheless. He got up to start putting his clothes away as they talked, also unfolding and hooking up his birds actual cage, putting her in the corner.
"So... do you have anything you want to know about me? Maybe we could get to know each other a little?"
Shay's eyes lit up. "That's great! I'm sure you'll be able to talk to Tom all about that. If you're comfortable with it, of course." He flashed a bright smile at the younger man, happy that he would have some connection with Tom to base a friendship off of. It was much easier to get Tom talking about work than anything else.
"Sure we can! When you're done setting up, we can go have some tea and talk, how does that sound? I'm sure we both have questions for each other. But don't worry, I won't get too personal." He winked and smiled good-naturedly.
Sam smiled kindly, finishing unpacking and put his suitcase under the bed.
"What kinds of tea do you have?" he asked as they walked out. He shut the door quietly, not wanting Mari to freak out from anything. He looked at the office door, sighing lightly.
"I do hope he wont hate me."
"Oh, all kinds.. Different mints, orange, chamomile, jasmine.." He listed off a few more random ones, having quite an extensive collection of teas as it was rather a hobby of his to collect ones from any new store he went or city he went, as every place seemed to have their own unique blends.
He frowned a bit at the door, sighing with him. "He doesn't hate you, Daniel. He's just... He's Tom. He can be rather closed off. But I promise if you get talking about police work, he'll love you." Shay smiled at him reassuringly before gently taking him by the arm to lead him into the kitchen.
"Now, what kind of tea do you want?"
Sam couldn't help a smile smile at how easy this man was falling for his lies. It was all so amusing.
"Oh, okay. The I'll be sure to talk about that when he's done," he said, walking into the kitchen and looking around. It was nice and clean, just as he had thought. He moved to sit at the table, thinking about the teas.
"Could I have Jasmine?" he asked, sounding hopeful.
"Also, when does he usually finish up in there?"
"Of course," Shay said, flashing a smile before he moved to the kitchen and made the tea. The apartment was fairly open so he could still see and speak to Sam as he worked on pouring two steaming cups of hot water and steeping the tea in them.
"Mm.." Shay thought a moment. Usually, if it was a case that was keeping him, he was in there until they went to bed, but with dinner being in two hours or so, he would probably come out sooner than that to have a smoke break. "Well.. Maybe half an hour? Until then, you don't mind talking to me, do you? I know I don't do anything nearly so exciting as police work, but I do have my charms."
"I don't mind talking with you at all, I was just curious," he responded kindly, drumming his fingers to a tune. He waited a few minutes, and when Shay came back, he thanked him.
"So, what do you do for work? I heard it allows you to be home a lot?" he asked curiously, tasting the tea. He smiled happily, and this wasn't fake. The tea was very good.
"Also, how long have you two been together?"
Shay settled across from him, happily sipping the mint tea he had chosen for himself. He set it down briefly so he could answer Sam's questions.
"Well.. I manage a few websites where I help people auction or sell some of their antiques and I sometimes go to auctions and purchase things myself to sell. I'm a bit of an amateur historian, if I do say so myself. I got my degree in History and I was going to also get my liscense to teach, but one week with children and... Well, I couldn't exactly handle it. None seemed very attentive when learning history, though I can't imagine why." He looked seriously perplexed as to why children disliked learning about events from a country's past or even about their own family history.
"Anyway, after that, I got into the business of antiques and I enjoyed it, so I decided to make my own websites and such. I make a fair profit off of it when I find something worth selling, but it helps that I also do odd jobs in my uncle's antique store and such, so I can contribute to the household as much as Tom does."
Shay had to think a moment about the next question. "Mm.. Well, we've lived together for a bit under a year.. and we were together a year before that, though we hardly saw each other as he was working on loads of cases and I was still deciding what I wanted to do with my life. But I'd say we've been together nearly two years.. He asked me to move in with him on the anniversary of the day we met." He sighed a bit happily as he thought to the day. Tom hadn't exactly asked, simply told him to move in with him, but it had been sweet nonetheless.
Sam nodded and listened. The guy wasn't rich, obviously, so that was good.
"That sounds kind of fun, actually. I happen to love history," he stated calmly, sipping more from his tea. He smiled when Shay explained the romantic way Tom asked him to move in.
"That's very... cute. I wish I had a partner like that, it sounds nice," he complimented, finally setting his drink down.
"So, do you have any questions?"
"Well, maybe I can get you some work with my uncle some time? He's the real history buff in the family, very smart about things. Plus, his shop is always full of cool things." Shay smiled at him.
"Yes.. Tom's.. He's wonderful. I'm sure you'll find someone just as wonderful someday." He was most definitely cut from the cloth of hopeless romantics, making a very odd counterpart to Tom's surly views on romance and love.
"Let me see.." Shay thought a moment about what he wanted to know. "Well.. How old are you? What do you like to do?"
"I would love to work with your uncle. It sounds fun!" Sam said, listening as Shay talked about Tom. For the questions, it didn't take long for him to answer.
"Well, I am 25, I like to spend some time online, go out at night for long walks... sing to Mari, and read," he said. He was a relatively simple person, but was also smart. He was very smart actually, since he managed to kill two people without a single lead for them to follow, so far as he knew.
"I'll call him tomorrow then and see if he won't swing by and meet you," Shay said, smiling.
"Oh good, you're my age! Tom is two years older, but I swear he acts like he's fifty..."
"Who acts like their fifty?" Tom had walked in just in time from the office to hear the tail end of the conversation, raising an eyebrow at his lover. He wasn't as annoyed now that he had some time to sit down and work on his case and such. It would be difficult, he thought, to really work with another person in the house, but he would just have to make sure that boundaries were very clear.
"Oh, no one.." Shay quipped, smiling conspiratorially at Sam. "Why don't you sit down and talk with Daniel here? His father was a cop and he's interested in police work, so I'm sure you'll have plenty to talk about. I'm just going to go start dinner..." He stood and leant down to give Tom a quick kiss, murmuring a soft reminder for him to be nice before going into the kitchen to start. It was a good thing that he could keep an eye on them from there, in case Tom got too mean or prying.
Sam smiled shyly, chuckling at him. He sipped the rest of his tea, finishing it off and looking at Tom.
"He's really nice, you know." he said, scratching his cheek nervously. He rest his head in his hand on the table, looking at Tom for a moment.
"So, are you working on anything exciting?" he asked curiously, hoping the man was at least dumb enough to tell him at least a little.
"Yes," Tom agreed, glancing back at his lover with a fond look before his attention snaps back to Sam.
"I'm not under the liberty to tell you about any case that I work on, so tell me about yourself instead. How old are you? How long have you been living in poverty? Where are your parents? Do you have any siblings? If so, why are you not with them? In that order please." Tom leaned back in his chair and fixed him with a calculating stare as he awaited answers.
Sam felt his eye twitch slightly at how commanding the man seemed. He thought a minute, acting as if he was going over the questions in his mind.
"Well... I'm 25, I've been this way since my parents died, when I about... 16. That should answer your other question, no I do not have any siblings." he answered, as Daniel would answer. The turth was his father killed his mother, and he violently slaughtered the man in return. His sister had no idea of his existence, or of her real family at all and he wanted to keep it that way.
"What about you?"
"27. I've never lived in 'poverty'. My parents are dead. I have three sisters. Tell me about your parents." Tom never...demanded things, per se. He simply asked for them in an intimidating tone and people broke. He was hailed as one of the best interrogators--and was one of the only ones who never had to use dirty tricks to do so.
"Well... I would say I had very hallmark card parents. My mother stayed home, my father worked and they were both very kind people," he said, smiling lightly. He knew what Tom was trying to do, and it wouldn't work. Although, despite what he said being a lie, Tom wouldn't be able to tell. He wouldn't know that his mother was a whore, but her son loved her anyway, and his father was a crooked cop.
"So... sisters? What are they like?"
"Sounds fascinating. What did they both do?" Tom circumvented the question about his sisters. There was no doubt he loved them, but they were all very...different. One was a crazy, bible-thumping, 'God-shall-smite-thee' Christian who hated him and his lover. The other was the complete opposite, to the point where it was extremely scary just how supportive she was. The last was the youngest who just didn't care about much of anything and was a doctor, already married with kids. He rarely talked to any of them.
Sam noted that he avoided the topic of his sisters, but he didn't have any reason to continue with it.
"Well, as I already said, my mother stayed home, and my father was an officer, like you." he informed, resting his head on one hand.
"What about your parents? Did they do anything?" he asked curiously, drumming his fingers on his cheek.
"What was your father's name and where was he stationed?" Tom asked before considering Sam's question. "...My parents were both doctors at a planned parenthood clinic."
Sam was not expecting having to answer about his father. He looked away in mock shame, sighing.
"I... I don't remember," he responded, brushing his hair back.
"I don't exactly have the best memory..." he said, looking back up. He studied the mans face for any hints of his intentions, but cops were always hard to crack.
"So... can you tell me a little of what your working on? You work with murders, right? I heard there was a murder the other night. Is it true?"
Tom frowned at him, his suspicion rising, though he didn't press. "Is that so? Well, if you do remember, do tell me."
"As for the cases I work on, I cannot tell you anything. Who did you hear about a murder from?"
Sam smiled kindly, rocking in his seat.
"I'll be sure to tell you," he responded to the first, then to the second he thought quickly about his answer.
"It's a rumor floating around that neighborhood," he responded, skillful in the art of lying.
"Is it now?" Tom frowned slightly, wondering if perhaps they should have been more cautionary to the neighbors... But then, people gossip and were always getting in the way of investigations.
"Well, there is an investigation pending. When they release the information to reporters, I will tell you what I am able to if you're interested."
Sam managed to contain a smug smirk. Tom had just given him all he needed to know the man was working his case.
"Oh, that would be wonderful! Though, could I ask one more question about the case?" he asked, folding his hands, childishly begging the man.
"I reserve the right to not answer it," Tom said, leaning back slightly in his seat to eye Sam with a casual, but stern, questioning gaze. "But ask away."
Sam smiled happily.
"Um, it is about the case, but... do you guys have any suspects?" he asked, acting hopeful.
"I mean, you know... that would be really cool,"
"I would not know, I am not specifically assigned to the case. I am more of a...manager or babysitter for the younger recruits as they work," Tom lied, not even twitching. He had learn very well in his years as a cop that lying could get him out of most trouble and Daniel... Daniel seemed to him to be trouble, for all his "innocent curiosity".
"Oh, that's no fun! No action!" Sam claimed, knowing the man was lying. He chuckled, standing and picking up his cup, taking it to the sink and rinsing it out.
"Well, thank you for telling me all that. I really liked our conversation," he said politely, sitting back down and waving at Shay, a sign to tell him all was well.
"I suppose not," Tom said, shrugging slightly.
Shay smiled widely as they got along seemingly well. He had been prepared to step in, but since his lover wasn't being too big of a jackass, he thought it was going nicely. He finished up the last bits of dinner and started taking out some plots. "Alright boys, dinner is done."
Sam looked up at Shay, thanking him.
"This smells amazing, Shay!" he declared, waiting until the other two started eating before he did as well.
Thomas watched Sam, or Daniel as he knew it, making sure he wasn’t going to do anything. Seemed normal enough. After dinner, Sam helped Shay clean up.
“Thank you, again. This will really… help me out,” Sam said, smirking at the hidden meaning.
“You’re welcome, Daniel.”
(To be continued!)
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