"Listen Simon, before you say anything, I just want to tell you that I'm
sorry about yesterday. I know none of this is your fault. I shouldn't
have gotten so upset."
"You had every right to be angry." Simon looked from one partner to the
other. "You both did. But I didn't call you down here to give or receive
apologies." He reached into his desk and withdrew Blair's I.D. badge. "I
called you here so I could give this back." He tossed it at the grad
student.
Blair fumbled with the badge, nearly dropping it. "What are you talking
about?"
"You too, Ellison." Simon tossed the detective his badge.
"What's going on?" Jim asked. "Why the sudden change of heart?"
Simon leaned back in his chair, rocking slightly. "When Captain Renkin
said he wouldn't go to his men, I decided to do it for him. I spent
yesterday afternoon talking with them and they had quite a lot to tell me."
His gaze locked on Blair. "Sandburg, why didn't you say something
before?"
Jim glanced at Blair as his heart rate suddenly doubled. He dropped his
gaze to his lap, his fingers playing with the I.D. badge in his hand.
"Simon, I don't know what they told you exactly but whatever it was, it has
nothing to do with what's going on now."
"You're wrong, son. It all has to do with this."
Jim's brow creased in confusion. "What are you guys talking about?"
Simon shifted his attention to Jim. "Did you know that Blair tutors
Officer Green's son and that he got Timmon's daughter into the advanced
program at Rainier. And that when Wallace's daughter wanted to drop out of
college, Sandburg talked her into--"
"Simon," Blair said, cutting him off. "None of that has anything to do
with my work at the station."
"Maybe not. But it sure as hell goes a long way in earning you the respect
of those officers."
"Not according to Dorcel," Blair muttered.
Simon nodded "I asked the men about that. They were not happy about how
they were being portrayed by Dorcel. They said there may be a handful of
cops who feel that way about you but if there are, they're all cronies of
Henderson. With Henderson gone…well, let's just say that the other
uniforms know what's going on now and I get the feeling that all that talk
will stop…for good."
Jim stared at his partner, unable to believe that he had done all the
didn't you tell us how you've been working with the uniforms yesterday when
Simon first brought up this problem?" he asked, unable to keep the
frustration from his voice.
"Because I haven't been 'working with the uniforms'," Blair said, his own
frustration clear. "I've been working with their kids and I didn't do it
to earn brownie points with their parents. I did it because it was the
right thing to do. I wasn't going to try and suddenly cash in on it. Make
them feel like they owed me something here because I helped their kids out
at school." He shook his head, running his hand through his hair. "I
would never do that. But that said, I do admit that I was kind of
surprised when Simon told me what was happening. I really thought I knew
some of those guys. Thought I had earned a certain amount of respect from
them."
"You earned more than that." Simon leaned forward, his hands clasped
before him on the desk top. "You know what I found on my desk today when I
got in to work? A whole pile of those." He nodded toward Jim's badge.
"I'm told Renkin came in to the same thing."
Blair stared at Simon, clearly dumbfounded. "You're kidding, right?"
"No, I'm not kidding. I had a damned rebellion on my hands. The only way
I could get anyone to go back to work was if I promised to bring you both
in today and talk you into returning." He leaned back in his chair again,
his gaze still on Blair. "You know how cops are, Sandburg. They always
watch out for one of their own."
Blair dropped his gaze. "Simon," he began and stopped, his voice shaky.
He swallowed hard and Jim knew he was struggling to keep his emotions in
check.
Jim reached out and gripped his partner's shoulder, squeezing gently.
"Well, Chief, what do you say? Should we help the captain out here?"
Blair let out a long breath before looking up again. His gaze was strong,
sure. "Yeah." He clipped the I.D. tag to the edge of his shirt collar.
"Let's get back to work."
The end.
My e-mail address is: bethmanz@flash.net <mailto:bethmanz@flash.net>