Dogsbody | Chapter One: Jack of All Trades, Master of None

[tellezarafic]

Title: Dogsbody
Pairing: Edgeworth/Gumshoe
Rating: Final chapter is NSFW, penultimate chapter contains some sexual references.
Word Count: 37,918
Synopsis: It's summertime, and Edgeworth needs his swimming pool cleaned. Looking to make a quick buck, Gumshoe volunteers to be his handyman for the whole weekend, little realising that Edgeworth will come to look at him in a whole new light...
Chapter Links: Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4

"Here's those files you wanted, sir," Detective Gumshoe's face was obscured by the large stack of files he cradled in his arms, but over the topmost dusty tome Edgeworth could see the puppy-like enthusiasm in his eyes. "You sure are requesting a lot of these old files - are you onto something with your research?"

Edgeworth cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Why else do you think I'm pulling all these old notes, Detective - a little light reading over lunch?"

"It's lunchtime already?" Gumshoe asked eagerly.

Edgeworth groaned - as usual, sarcasm wasted.

"No, it's not lunchtime, Detective," he said patiently. "It's barely ten o'clock."

Gumshoe's stomach grumbled audibly, and though most of his face was hidden by the files, Edgeworth knew the 'Hungry Gumshoe' look when he saw it.

I could write a book. "The 101 faces of Detective Gumshoe" - complete with pictorial references to aid easy identification...

"Actually, one hundred and one would be giving you far too much credit. You've only got about six. Hm, perhaps a pamphlet, then, rather than a book?"

"...Huh?"

That was 'Confused Gumshoe'.

"Let's see," Edgeworth began ticking them off on his fingers, "Hungry, Disgustingly Cheerful, Sheepish, Confused, Excitable, Worried, and the classic - Doleful Hound. My, there's enough for a reproduction of Snow White."

"Uh... sir?" Gumshoe was completely mystified now.

"Never mind, Detective - I was merely thinking aloud," Edgeworth had a half-smile of amusement on his face. He pointed to a spot on the floor by his desk. "Files there, please, gently. Then you may go back to whatever you were doing."

Gumshoe offloaded his pile of files with relief. He was rather red in the face.

"Phew, it sure was hot down in the fileroom," he said, wiping his forehead. "Looks like we're finally getting a spell of summer weather, huh?"

"Ah!" Edgeworth snapped his fingers. He immediately reached out to write something on the memoblock at the edge of the desk.

Despite having an eidetic memory for all things law, the prosecutor was heavily reliant on this memoblock and his secretary's diarykeeping to ensure he remembered his errands and the few social engagements he had to keep. Gumshoe tried not to read it these days - the last inscription was '**BUY HANNAH'S BIRTHDAY PRESENT** ?Gumshoe'. He had been duly despatched to procure this - he had rather thought she would like the Blue Badger plush toy. Its lopsidedness and crazy smile made it kinda cute. Hannah loved it as much as he loved his subsequent paycut, it turned out.

However, this latest note read 'GET POOL CLEANED', and he saw a golden opportunity to make a quick buck.

"That time of the year again, huh?" he said.

"Mm," Edgeworth said absently. He leaned down to pick up one of the casefiles.

"I can clean pools, you know," Gumshoe added, sledgehammer-subtle.

"Oh?" Edgeworth replied, mostly unconcerned but with an inflection showing mild interest.

"I did my neighbour's pool last week; he seemed pretty happy with it! Lots of folks wanting them done around now, y'see. Got a few more lined up for later on." Well, he didn't really, but if he could say he'd cleaned Mr. Edgeworth's pool, why, that was his reputation made! "And I do a good rate," he added hopefully.

"Oh. You charge." Edgeworth lifted the file with a grunt of effort, hoisting the thing onto his desk. He opened it, about to start reading.

"Uh, only a little!" Gumshoe gabbled. "H-hey, how about this, boss? I'll clean your pool and you can pay me if you're happy with it?"

Edgeworth looked up from the file.

"There's other things needing done at my house too," he said casually. "And I only submitted your pay review yesterday. There's still time for... alterations."

Gumshoe didn't even hesitate.

"I'll be your dogsbody for the whole weekend, boss!"

There was a glint in Edgeworth's eye.

"I'll hold you to that, then, Detective," he smiled toothily. "Make sure you're early on Saturday. There is much to be done."

He was rewarded for his spontaneous benevolence with Gumshoe Look #2: Disgustingly Cheerful.

"I won't forget this, boss!" Gumshoe beamed. "I'll work hard!" he bounded out of the office.

Edgeworth waited until the door had shut behind him, then crossed out the note on his memoblock with a cackle.
At 6am on Saturday morning Edgeworth's doorbell rang insistently. Eyes blurred with sleep, the prosecutor stumbled down the stairs and opened the door, peering owlishly at the man standing on his doorstep. He was dressed in khaki painter's dungarees that were splattered with a variety of stains from white paint to black grease to who-knows-what, and he had a tool belt slung across his chest like a bandolier - but the eager expression on his face and the pencil behind one ear unequivocally identified him as Detective Gumshoe.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Edgeworth said dourly, running one eye. He was dressed in pink satin pajamas, his hair dishevelled. He was not a morning person, in the slightest.

"Uh, you said to come early...?" Gumshoe scratched his head, looking sheepish.

Edgeworth gave him a withering look, made all the more penetrating for being delivered from beneath sleep-heavy eyelids.

"Early is a relative term, Detective. Like your salary."

Gumshoe winced. He knew from past experience that he had but a few seconds to salvage the situation or the threat would become reality.

"I-I'll come back later so you can get some more sleep!" he said immediately, spinning on his heel and stepping towards the road.

A hand reached out and grabbed him by one strap of his overalls, stopping him in his tracks.

"You think you can just leave, having gotten me out of my bed? I think not."

Edgeworth tugged on the strap, and the Detective obediently backed into the house, down the hallway and into the lounge.

"Switch that on," Edgeworth spun him around and pointed at the kettle in the kitchenette area. "Put one spoonful of that," the tin of tealeaves next to the kettle, "into that," the tea strainer, "and the moment the kettle's boiled, pour the water over the strainer into the cup you'll find in there," he pointed at the cupboard above the kettle. "Leave the strainer in for three minutes exactly - treat it like one of your pot noodles; a second more and the flavour's ruined. Got it?"

"Yessir!"

Edgeworth looked at him shrewdly.

"I don't believe you, even though it's quite simple. Repeat it back."

Gumshoe did so. Now parrot-learning was one thing he was good at. Well, he had to be - he wouldn't even be able to afford noodles otherwise.

Edgeworth nodded, satisfied.

"Very well - off you go. I'll be back shortly." He disappeared upstairs.

As he got changed, Edgeworth could hear Gumshoe whistling away merrily. He recognised the tune; it was the Pink Princess opening theme. Damn, that was part of his Saturday morning routine disrupted - there was no way he could watch that with the Detective there.

"What a nuisance," he muttered to himself, but it was his own fault for not being specific. Speak literally, or be taken literally, that was the golden rule for dealing with Gumshoe. Still, his early arrival wasn't a complete loss - he had been literal when saying there was a lot to be done. He looked out the window as he was brushing his hair and smiled, humming along to Gumshoe's whistling downstairs. The weather was going to be good today - perhaps he'd be able to take an evening dip in the pool once the Detective had finished with it.

His humming ran ahead of the Detective's whistle - Gumshoe had faltered slightly, and when he resumed the whistling was more thoughtful in tone. That wasn't a good sign. It slowed down some more. Edgeworth hurriedly pulled his trousers on and charged down the stairs just in time to snatch the milk carton from Gumshoe's hand.

"Heathen!" he hissed. "That's Earl Grey you're brewing - you don't add milk to that!"
"Whoa!" Gumshoe stepped away from the china teacup in alarm. It was balanced in a cock-eyed fashion on the saucer and wobbled with a clatter as his feet clumped on the tiles. "Sorry, boss - I just saw how you made it at the office so I thought-"

"That's English Breakfast tea I make there. Earl Grey is taken either black or with a dash of lemon. Not with milk, or sugar," he shuddered at the thought, reaching out to straighten the teacup before picking up the saucer with it on. "Not that I'd expect you to know that, given your more... plebeian choice of tipple," he made a noise of disgust.

"Aw, well there's nothing like a good coffee first thing in the morning," Gumshoe declared. "Mr. Godot woulda agreed with me on that one!"

"A good coffee, perhaps, but yours is akin to industrial-strength road tar."

Edgeworth cautiously sipped the tea. He was perhaps taking his life into his own hands with this action, but as it turned out the tea leaves had been in for exactly three minutes as he had requested. At least he could count on the Detective to get that right. He'd seen Gumshoe making a pot noodle before - it was a rather disgusting sight. The moment the second hand hit 12 on his watch, the detective would leap forward and tip the entire contents down his gullet to capture what he called The Pot Noodle Moment; that instant at the three minute mark when the flavour was at its best. At least that particular Neanderthalian talent was handy in some quarter.

"Is that alright, boss?" Gumshoe nodded at Edgeworth's cup.

"I'm drinking it, am I not?"

Gumshoe grinned, pleased with himself.

"So what's next, huh?" he looked around. "Can I take your dog for a walk?"

"No. You might teach him bad habits."

"Aw," Gumshoe was crushed. "But I like dogs."

Because you're like a big, clumsy puppy yourself, really.

"You can meet Pess, though. I'm sure he'll find you entertaining." Edgeworth fished a few slices of bread from the bread bin and stuck them in the toaster. "Undoubtedly he'll get in your way repeatedly while you're sorting out the garden - as is his wont."

"Your garden?" Gumshoe asked, curious.

"Well, it needs some... work." Edgeworth was looking in the fridge, going about the serious business of deciding whether he wanted marmalade or jam on his toast. "I usually let it do its own thing during the winter and get it fixed up at the start of spring in time for the bulbs to come up, but things have been a bit hectic and I haven't gotten around to calling the gardener yet. Or the builder to make the gazebo I ordered." He thought for a moment, drinking down the rest of his tea. "Come to think of it, my new wardrobe is still flat-packed in the garage as well." The toast popped up and he put the empty teacup and saucer down on the table, lifting the slices out of the toaster to swiftly butter them and spread the marmalade he'd picked.

There was an audible tummy rumble from Gumshoe. Edgeworth paused, mid-butter. The toast did smell good. He sighed, finished buttering the last slice and spread it with marmalade, then placed it on the plate with the others and held the whole thing out to his left while getting more bread from the bread bin.

"I suppose I have to feed my labour." The plate suddenly became lighter. He turned to find it was now empty. Gumshoe had turned the three slices into a triple-decker toast sandwich, that was now missing a large bite out of it. He chewed with a serene expression on his face, transcending to another plane of marmalade-induced contentment.

Edgeworth shook his head, putting the plate on the countertop and fishing another three slices out of the bin to go with the three he already had. It was just as well he had a big toaster.
***
"Whoa, I'm all fired up now!" Gumshoe cried, wolfing down his last bit of toast. "I'm ready for anything you throw at me, sir!"

"Oh yes? Then what about this," Edgeworth lifted the plate, "at your head? You just emptied my entire bread bin, and that was a jar of my favourite marmalade, imported from Britain, that you just polished off!"

"Eeek!" Gumshoe backed away, shielding his face. It was his stock response to the prosecutor picking anything up suddenly - Franziska had her whip, but she was a mild threat compared with Edgeworth's ability to turn ordinary items of office stationery (or kitchen crockery) into assault projectiles. "Sorry, boss - I got kinda carried away."

"Are you normally such a gaping black hole when it comes to breakfast?" Edgeworth said disparagingly.

"Uh... well, I don't normally have breakfast," Gumshoe admitted. "Only got so many noodles and weenies to last me the week an' all."

Edgeworth paused, then he put the plate down with a sigh. The Detective was most efficient when he was hungry, but perhaps he had been a bit heavy with the pay cuts of late. Then again, he had conducted a little experiment with the Detective's salary and found it directly correlated with the number of serious gaffes he made. By cutting it in response to particularly spectacular episodes of incompetency, eventually it reached a plateau upon which the Detective could eke out an existence while causing the minimum amount of vexation to him. After all, every six months he had to lock horns with the HR Director and justify keeping the Detective on the payroll - and some days he felt it was all worthwhile, and other days it really wasn't. He hadn't decided what today was, yet.

"Have you had enough to eat?" he asked.

"Sure have!" Gumshoe chuckled, rubbing his stomach. "Best toast I ever had."

He was easy to please, at least.

I suppose it's kind to let him have a taste of quality once in a while.

"Come this way, then," Edgeworth walked towards the French windows at the end of the lounge, throwing them open. At the sound of that, Pess came bounding down the stairs and shot out the door into the sunshine.

"Here, boy!" Gumshoe called out after him, but Pess was already halfway down the garden.

"He's having his usual morning mad moment," Edgeworth explained. "He'll do a circuit of the garden at fifty kilometres an hour and come back to collapse on the patio for a minute or two."

"Your dog's pretty crazy, huh?"

"He's a collie," Edgeworth said airily. "They're all a bit eccentric."
Gumshoe followed him onto the patio, gawking at the size of Edgeworth's swimming pool.

"Pal, you could hold the Olympics in that!"

"Don't overexaggerate, Detective - it's not Olympic-sized; it's about ten metres short."

"Still pretty damn big. You must be a good swimmer, boss," Gumshoe said, clearly in awe.

"With a lap speed of thirty-five seconds, I think I have to agree with you," Edgeworth said smugly. "Now, cleaning tools are in the garage, which I'll unlock for you. I trust they need no explanation on my part. How long do you think it'll take?"

Gumshoe looked at the pool, sizing it up.

"Well, you've got it covered well, so probably a few hours?" he made a rocking motion with his hand, indicating it was an estimate.

Edgeworth blinked. The last cleaning company he'd employed had taken half a day.

"Right," he said slowly, realising he was looking at a dying breed of good, honest labour. "In that case, I'll take Pess out for his morning walk and let you get on with it. I'll be about an hour or so."

He went and unlocked the garage, showing the Detective where all the tools and chemicals were, then he grabbed Pess' lead from the hook, whistling to summon the collie from the patio. Edgeworth opened the boot of his car and Pess leaped right in.

"Shall we go to the Hill today?"

Pess licked his hand. The Hill was one of his favourite walks but they didn't go very often because it was a good hour in length, and Edgeworth rarely had that kind of time. But he had missed Pess dreadfully while overseas, and since coming back he had been determine to take Pess on some longer walks to give the collie a chance to have a good run.

He shut the boot carefully, then turned to Gumshoe.

"You'll have it done by the time I come back, yes?"

"In an hour?!" Gumshoe choked, turning jerkily to look at the pool again. It seemed to have almost doubled in size at second glance.

"Oh, it'll be slightly longer as we're going to the Hill - an hour and a half, maybe?" Edgeworth waved a hand in his direction. "You're running on good toast and marmalade, so I expect a corresponding increase in productivity. Got it?"

"S-sir!" Gumshoe grabbed up the pool nets and scuttled out.

And that was the way things should be - admittedly it was a huge pool, and Edgeworth knew he was probably pushing it a bit, but Gumshoe could achieve even the near-impossible with the appropriate threat hanging over his head. He heard the sound of the pool gate opening and clanging shut, and having been satisfied that Gumshoe was getting to work, he and Pess set off for the Hill.
***

It was shaping up to be a glorious day, and the Hill's walking tracks were well-traversed even at this early hour. Edgeworth had picked the longest route, so he didn't meet any joggers, but there were cyclists and dogwalkers aplenty. He even bumped into Winston Payne walking his two chocolate-coloured poodles, though the sight of his purple jogging outfit was definitely best forgotten.

Pess was completely in his element. He delighted in galloping up the path to see what was ahead, then running back to leap around him excitedly - as if to say 'come and see!' - before rushing off again. Edgeworth had also picked this route to avoid the duck pond - it was Pess' one big weakness; if he caught sight of a duck he would be straight after it. And Edgeworth knew from past experience that the pond water absolutely stank.

It had been fairly cool at the start of their walk but now the sun was higher in the sky, and Edgeworth could feel the warmth of it on his face. He had taken his jacket off a little while ago and had it slung over one arm. A few blossoms clung to it - he had walked beneath some trees that were already bearing their spring flowers. He had craned his head back to look up at them as he walked underneath the branches - the white flowers made a good contrast against the blue sky, a spring picture postcard. Now, as the track curved back towards their starting point, he was walking in direct sunlight, and he reached into his jacket pocket for his sunglasses, shutting one eye against the brightness. Pess loped up to him, panting.

"Getting tired?" Edgeworth patted his head.

Pess walked by his side for a few yards. Edgeworth checked his watch - it was nearly 8 o'clock, they'd been out for an hour already and they were still a good way from the car. It had been a pleasant walk, but all the way around there had been the nagging thought at the back of his mind that, having left Gumshoe to his own devices, his house could potentially be a smoking ruin. He hadn't sped up his pace because he wanted to make sure Pess had a good run outdoors, but now the collie was starting to tire it was probably better that they headed home. So he sped up to a powerwalk, the blossoms blurring into streaks of vivid colour as he passed them. Pess trotted along easily beside him, and a short while later they were at the exit. Pess went straight for Edgeworth's car, jumping into the boot as soon as it was open.

"Good walk?" Edgeworth asked him.

Pess barked in reply, tongue lolling through his mouth in a pant and his lips parted in a canine grin.

"Oh yes, yes it was - is that what you're saying, hm?" Edgeworth rubbed his head and silky ears, quickly checking them to make sure the collie hadn't picked up any ticks while nosing through the underbrush. "Right, we're good to go!"

He shut the boot and hopped in the car, pressing the button to open the suntop. He'd removed the parcel shelf at the back, and Pess put his head up through the opening as they drove down the freeway, ears flapping in the wind. He was enjoying the cool breeze.

When they got back Edgeworth let Pess out and followed the dog into the garden, approaching the swimming pool with some trepidation.
The cover of the pool was off and folded in one corner, and the sunlight reflecting off the water was nearly blinding - even with his sunglasses on. But lifting up his glasses and shutting one eye, he could see that the pool water was clear, right down to the bottom. No debris, not a twig or leaf to be seen. Even the grouting between the blue tiles lining the sides of the pool was clean, an abandoned toothbrush lying on the decking betraying how this had been achieved. He scanned the length of the pool, looking for Gumshoe, but he kept being blinded by the sun. He put his sunglasses back on again, and it was then that he caught an eyeful of the Detective.

He was on his knees with his overalls stripped down to his waist, his torso bared to the sun, and he seemed to be screwing together some large pieces of metal with a look of intense concentration on his face. He was a little sunburnt on his broad, muscular back, which was covered with a sheen of sweat. Dark moles dotted his skin, showing he worked in the sun like this frequently, and Edgeworth's eyes followed the movement of angular shoulderblades beneath supple skin as the Detective steadied the chunk of metal and began turning the screwdriver.

What were those pieces of metal anyway? He seemed to be surrounded by them...

The penny dropped.

"DETECTIVE!" Edgeworth bellowed, running for the gate.

"Whoa!" Gumshoe dropped the screwdriver and jumped up, looking around. "Mr. Edgeworth! You're back already?"

"And a good thing too - what the hell is all this?" Edgeworth gestured at the metal parts scattered around Gumshoe on the decking.

"Oh, that? It's your pool motor, boss. It's broken."

"Well of course it's broken, man - you just took the whole thing apart!"

"Huh? N-no!" Gumshoe said hastily. "I just took some bits off it to find out what was wrong with it. It wasn't filtering the water properly."

Edgeworth looked at him suspiciously.

"So what's wrong with it then? It was serviced last spring, it shouldn't just break like that."

"Uh, well, it looks like the capacitor's gone. This bit," Gumshoe pointed at a black piece of casing.

Edgeworth crouched down to examine it. It was all a pretense, really - it looked fine to him, and to his chagrin he knew that if it was broken he probably wouldn't be able to tell. Though the Detective wasn't particularly good at making things work, he was a dab hand at identifying when something was broken. Usually because he'd broken it, but Edgeworth would give him the benefit of the doubt on this one, just this once.
"So what are you going to do about it, then?" he asked, standing up again.

"Well, the pool shop will be open now - I can go get a new one, no worries! Trust Go-Go Gadget Gumshoe," Gumshoe tapped the side of his nose with a wink. "I'll get your pool up and running by midday, boss - you can count on that! So whaddaya think?" he nodded at the pool. "Clean as a whistle, huh?"

Edgeworth didn't reply for a moment - now the momentary panic over the dismantled state of his pool pump had passed, he was allowing himself a second look at the Detective. Now they were facing each other, he realised that the tatty greatcoat Gumshoe normally wore hid a stocky man with lean, sinewy muscles traced from hard work rather than time put in at the police gym; though for all his obvious masculinity he didn't have a lot of chest hair. It was fine, and where it wasn't plastered to his skin with sweat it curled, leaving whorls on his chest that begged to be twisted around a finger. He smelt a little of chlorine, and had a few bits of leaf stuck to his upper arm in a line, indicating he'd had his arms in the pool water several times while cleaning it.

"I'll scrub all the decking too, once I've put the pump back in!" Gumshoe added quickly, misinterpreting the silence for disapproval. "And I'll-"

"No, no, it's clean!" Edgeworth snapped out of his reverie. It was just as well his sunglasses hid the fact that he'd been staring. "You've done a good job."

Damn, he'd accidentally paid the Detective a compliment - he hadn't meant to let that slip out. He was impressed with the state of the pool, but there was no need to lay it on thick.

"Aw, shucks!" Gumshoe rubbed the back of his head bashfully. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me, boss."

"It was a one-off," Edgeworth said dismissively. "Now, I want that pump back in one piece by the time I've finished my cup of tea - then we're going to the pool shop to buy that..." he fished for the word, "capacitator."

Gumshoe opened his mouth to correct him, but in an unusual display of foresight thought better of it.

"You take your coffee black, don't you?"

Gumshoe blinked, processing the question. Then he grinned.

"Sure do! With a big spoon of sugar."

"Right." Edgeworth disappeared into the house.

Gumshoe had half-reassembled the motor by the time Edgeworth came back out with a tray. On it was a cup of tea, a plate of biscuits and a large mug of coffee. It had taken him a while to find the mug and its accompanying packet of coffee beans. He'd had the gift forced upon him by Godot months ago, in the hope he too would come to understand the way of the roasted bean. But meeting the man had cemented his determination to never succumb to the call - for fear his speech would degenerate to similar coffee-shrouded conundrums. However, he had still held onto it - it didn't feel right to dispose of it, and in this case it had come in handy. At least the Detective's simple tastes required no messing about with milk or double cream on his part.

The look of sheer joy on the Detective's face at the sight of the mug and accompanying biscuits gave him a bizarre, and he suspected misplaced feeling of satisfaction. Such a small thing brought such delight, it seemed.
Edgeworth put the plate on the table next to the pool and sat down on the bench beside it, taking a bite out of a bourbon biscuit.

"Thanks, sir!" Gumshoe drained his coffee mug in a single slurp, the sound making Edgeworth wince.

"Yeow, that was good stuff!" he declared, thumping the mug back onto the table and making Edgeworth's china teacup rattle.

"Good coffee beans are wasted on you," Edgeworth grumbled. "You're meant to sip and savour, not slurp and swallow."

"Aw, really? But if you drink it all at once, you get the whole experience mashed into a coupla seconds - double the flavour, I reckon."

"I'm not even going to attempt to understand why that makes sense to you."

"Each to their own, huh, boss?"

"I suppose."

Gumshoe knelt down over the motor again, reaching one hand up to grab two bourbon biscuits.

Oh, he is not...

The two biscuits disappeared into the Detective's gaping maw, whole. Louding crunching followed, Gumshoe's jaws working overtime to masticate the chocolatey load.

"You regress further towards your caveman roots with every passing day, Detective," Edgeworth said sourly.

"Mmf?" Gumshoe only had half an ear for the insult; he was fitting the cowling to the top of the pump, having removed the broken capacitor from the side of the cover.

He had to bend right over it, pushing the cowling against his body as inserted the screws into the bottom to hold it all in place. His rear end was up in the air, and the back of his overalls was wet from where he'd been sitting on a damp patch of decking. It clung to his buttocks and left absolutely nothing to the imagination, the fabric tight where muscles were taut. Shoved towards him like that, Edgeworth couldn't tear his eyes away - they hungrily traced the contours of what he had to admit was a fine example of a behind. Hidden beneath a dirty greatcoat, it had gone unappreciated until now. He had been missing out, it seemed. His fingers twitched - they wanted to reach out, grab and squeeze.

Damn it, man - what is wrong with you? Stop this!

Reflexively he picked up the teacup next to him as Gumshoe straightened up - an attempt to occupy his grabby fingers. By the time Gumshoe turned to face him he was sipping his tea, feigning nonchalance. His cheeks felt a little warm, but that was down to the hot weather. Really.
"That's all ready to go!" Gumshoe nudged the motor pump with his foot. "Just need the icing on the cake now," he hefted the broken capacitor in his hand with a chuckle.

Now that the Detective's distracting posterior had been removed from his sight, Edgeworth looked down at the reassembled pump, and a thought occurred to him.

"The capacitator's on the top... why did you have to take the whole thing apart to figure out it was broken?" he gave Gumshoe a piercing stare.

"Uhhh," Gumshoe stalled, tossing the capacitor from hand to hand. "Well, y'see, it's, ah... logical!" he threw that in - he'd heard Edgeworth say that word a lot. "Yeah, there's a totally logical reason why I did that..."

"There's no 'Gumshoe' in logic, Detective. In retrospect, I don't think I want to know. Forget I asked."

"But this is definitely broken!" Gumshoe held up the capacitor, one wire trailing in the wind. "You need a new one for sure, sir. We should get to the pool shop - once I've got that it'll be all go from here!"

"Very well," Edgeworth sighed.

Gumshoe untied the straps of his overalls from around his waist, hooking them over his shoulders. They covered up most of his chest, though he hadn't bothered to put his t-shirt back on so Edgeworth wasn't completely disappointed. He duly ferried Gumshoe to the pool shop. The Detective seemed to know the shop owner quite well and even managed to haggle a discount for the replacement part. Though it was still quite expensive.

"Are you in here often?" Edgeworth asked him as they left the shop.

"Nah, the guy used to work in the Lost Property office down at Criminal Affairs before he opened this shop - he owes me a few favours so I was able to get you a real good deal!" Gumshoe said proudly, holding up the bag containing the new capacitor.

"As long as it works..." Edgeworth said dubiously as they got into the car.

"Sure it will!" Gumshoe laughed. "You just plug it in and it works - oh, gotta make sure it's the right way round though, or it'll blow the place up."

"You... speak from experience?" Edgeworth's question came out a little strangled - he was already envisaging the wreckage.

"Well, let me put it this way, pal - once you've done it once, you'll never do it again!" Gumshoe winked.

Edgeworth found he was suddenly gripping the steering wheel much harder than he needed to as they drove out of the carpark.
Back at the pool, Gumshoe plugged the capacitor in place, then reinstalled the pump in its rightful place beneath the decking. As he was about to plug the pump back into the mains, Edgeworth announced,

"I've some weeding to do. Down the garden. I'll be back shortly-" the gate clanged and he was halfway down the path at a near-run.

Gumshoe blinked. Didn't the prosecutor pay a gardener to come and do the weeding? Still, he plugged in the pump and checked everything one last time.

"I'm gonna switch it on now, boss!" Gumshoe shouted.

Edgeworth was standing at the opposite end of the garden, watching the exercise through the binoculars he'd gotten out of the shed. When Gumshoe yelled, he ducked behind the shed which was going to act as his blast shield against the impending explosion. Pess was circling around him in confusion, wondering what was going on.

Through the binoculars he saw Gumshoe flick the switch and he flinched.

There was a short pause.

"It's working!" Gumshoe whooped. "Yeeeah!"

In the distance Edgeworth could hear the sound of the pump chuntering away to itself. He stood up, feeling a little foolish. Composing a casual air, he bent down and lifted a suitably large looking weed from the flowerbed - heavens, it really did need weeding - and walked back down the path. On the way he passed the painted wooden struts of the gazebo he'd ordered, still tied around the middle with binding tape and awaiting construction. Perhaps he could trust Gumshoe with that after all.

However, when he went to deposit the weed in the compost bin near the pool gates he caught a strong whiff of chlorine - and to his dismay, Gumshoe was upending the chlorine bottle over the pool with gay abandon, whistling as he worked.

"Detective, are you trying to poison my pool?!" Edgeworth demanded, hurrying into the pool enclosure. "Leave off that chlorine - that's meant to last all summer!"

Gumshoe paused, at which point the stream of liquid issuing from the bottle was reduced to a trickle, then a drip. It was all gone.

"Well, when you first open a pool this size for the summer, you're meant to add a ton of chlorine," he tried to explain, shaking the bottle but no more came out. "Not safe otherwise."

"That was a four gallon bottle!"

Gumshoe fished a ratty piece of paper out of the pocket of his overalls, studying it.

"For your size pool, boss, that's what you need in there at the start of the spring," he said, showing the prosecutor the table on the paper. He'd circled the pool size, and sure enough, it read 4 gallons.

"Hmph. I won't be swimming in it tonight, then, will I?" Edgeworth was a little disappointed. The last time he'd had the pool cleaned, he had just left the company to it - he knew how to modify the chemical balance using the testing kit he'd bought, but he hadn't realised all these extra things needed adding at the start of the spring.

"Oh, I dunno," Gumshoe nodded at the pump. "It's a pretty hefty pump you've got there, pal - it won't take long to disperse that stuff." He wiped his forehead, unhooking the straps of his overalls and tying them around his waist again. "I'll recheck all the balances in a coupla hours and see how things are going, but that's it really - the pump and filters will do the rest. So what's the time, huh?" he asked, with an air of excitement.
Edgeworth glanced down at his watch.

"It's half past eleven," he said, not looking back up again because he'd caught sight of a large, roughly sewn patch on the inside leg of the Detective's overalls. The stitching was coming away and the patch flapped - through it he could see silk; boxer shorts, with something printed on it. He could see a few white letters, and the yellow bits meant it was probably The Simpsons.

"Yes!" Gumshoe punched the air with jubilation. "I said I'd have your pool up and running by midday, didn't I, boss?"

"You did," Edgeworth said absently. Gumshoe's leg had moved, and more of the picture was in view. He was right - it was Homer Simpson, eating a doughnut.

"So what's next? I'm in Action Man Mode!" Gumshoe saluted. "Put me to task, Mr. Edgeworth - I'm ready for anything!"

"Are you now." Thinking about it, Gumshoe and The Simpsons boxer shorts made a lot of sense. He probably had a whole drawer full of different ones. Now his mind was down this particular track he seemed to be having a bit of difficulty diverging from it, the concept summoning a reminder of the particularly fine posterior he had been presented with earlier. His fingers twitched again.

"What about your gazebo, boss? I could build it, no worries!" Gumshoe was impatient, full of energy.

"Hmm. Actually..." Edgeworth was beginning to realise that this apparent fixation he was developing was something best humoured into submission. "You could do the weeding. There's a lot of weeding to be done."

Perhaps if he stared at the Detective's rear for long enough, he could learn to ignore it.

"Sure I can," Gumshoe said cheerily. "My Mom always said I had green fingers!"

"Make sure it is just weeds you're pulling..." Edgeworth trailed off meaningfully. "In fact, I'll work at the garden table and keep an eye on where you're weeding. I've a good crop of annuals coming up and I don't want you decimating them."

"Aw, way to trust a budding gardener, boss," Gumshoe said sadly.

"Consider it trust enough that I'm letting you anywhere near my borders."

"Hey yeah, that's true. I'll do a good job!" Gumshoe promised. "Your flowerbeds'll be as weed-free as my cupboard is of food!"

Edgeworth felt a twinge of guilt at that particular analogy. When it got nearer lunchtime he'd see about ordering some sandwiches from the delicatessen. Perhaps. Providing the Detective didn't pull up any of his chrysanthemums.
So it was, that Edgeworth took his laptop out into the garden and sat at the wrought-iron table on the grass. He worked on his research paper, and Gumshoe worked on the flowerbeds. It was a caper almost on a par with deer-stalking - Edgeworth was relying heavily on his touch-typing abilities the majority of the time, eyes more on Gumshoe than on the computer screen. But whenever the Detective turned around to ask him about a particular plant he would suddenly conjure up a journal article from the pile on the table, feigning intense study.

"This one?" Gumshoe pointed.

Edgeworth glanced up from his paper.

"Weed."

"This one?"

"Weed."

"This one?" Gumshoe held it up.

"That's a daffodil, you moronic idiot," Edgeworth despaired. "How can you not recognise one of those; there's thousands on every roundabout in the city!"

"Aw, sorry, pal," Gumshoe said to the daffodil bulb, setting it back into the ground. "You didn't have any flowers on so I didn't realise."

He talks to plants...?

Then again, he spoke to Pess, so he could hardly comment. But Pess understood and responded - talking to plants was just... Gumshoe.

"If it has spearlike leaves it's a bulb, so leave it alone," Edgeworth informed him.

"Gotcha!" Gumshoe flashed him a thumbs-up sign.

"What on earth convinced your mother that you had green fingers when you don't know one end of a plant from another?"

"Aw, well, I used to make sandcastles outta her potting mix y'see. Ah, those sure were the days!" Gumshoe gently patted the earth around the replanted daffodil bulb, then shuffled along on his knees to the next bit of the flowerbed.

Edgeworth just turned back to his computer screen, shaking his head. Scanning over the text, he realised what he had written didn't actually make any sense. He glanced sideways. The Detective had leaned forward on his elbows to get at a weed right at the back of the flowerbed, and the stretching action had pulled his overalls tight across his bottom, showing the outline clearly. Not big, not small, and certainly trim - he'd almost call it pert, though that was too feminine a term for as masculine a rear as that. Gumshoe tossed the weed over his shoulder and carried on. Edgeworth forced himself to go back to the paragraph he'd just written, but his eyes would inexorably drift, time and time again. He ended up deleting the whole thing in frustration.

This isn't working... if anything, it's making it worse. Why didn't he just turn up in his trenchcoat so I could've remained ignorant?

Perhaps he needed to get away from there for a while.

"Pick a sandwich filling," he called out.

"It's lunchtime?!" Gumshoe threw another weed over his shoulder, his enthusiasm sending it high in the air. "Whoopee!"

"-!" Edgeworth saw where it was going and dived to catch it but missed by a few inches.

FLUMPH. The weed, roots and all, crashed into the keyboard of Edgeworth's laptop, dirt showering everywhere.

"DETECTIVE!" Edgeworth thundered, pointing at the laptop.

"Argh! Sorry, boss!" Gumshoe leapt up and rushed over, hoisting the plant off the keys and using one of the straps of his overalls to brush the dirt away. "I got all hyped up."

"Over what?"

"Uh, over sandwiches," Gumshoe mumbled, wiping down the computer screen.

"What sandwiches?"

"The ones you... oh," Gumshoe realised, his face falling. "I'll, uh, go do some more weeding, then..." he trudged back towards the flower beds.

Edgeworth felt a little uncomfortable. He shifted, scratched the side of his nose, went a slightly pink with the realisation that he was actually feeling rather guilty indeed and this wasn't normal. Then he called out,

"They're not sandwiches. They're baguettes. So pick a filling, already - I need to phone the delicatessen before the lunchtime rush to place the order."

Gumshoe paused, unable to quite believe what he'd just heard. He turned, and the enormous grin spreading across his face gave Edgeworth a bizarrely warm feeling inside.
"Boss..." Gumshoe was tentative, barely able to keep the excitement from his voice. "Could I... could I have," he almost dared not say the word, as if expecting an instant 'no', "...prawns?"

Edgeworth paused, then he couldn't help but smile with amusement.

"If it brings you that much joy, then yes, I suppose you can," he said.

"WHOOOOOOOYEAH!" Gumshoe rushed back to the flowerbeds. "I'll have these beds done by the time you come back, boss - all of them!"

He was like a weeding machine, picking out the bindweed and the dandelions and flinging them onto the steadily growing heap beside him in a stream of foliage. Pess was sniffing the pile of weeds, but he got clonked on the head by a flying dandelion. He shook the dirt off his head and went to sit at Edgeworth's feet, looking across at the Detective and then up at his master, as if to ask, 'What is this crazy man doing?'. Edgeworth was staring at the expanding weed pile, genuinely amazed. Who would have thought a humble prawn baguette could have such a motivational effect?

So he took his laptop back inside (it smelt of potting mix now) and phoned the delicatessen, ordering two prawn baguettes and one BLT. As he was on the phone he could see Gumshoe from the lobby window - he was just a beige blob on the opposite side of the garden now, and yet Edgeworth could imagine his posture in every detail, as if imprinted on his eyelids. And on the drive to the deli the increasing distance from the house just seemed to sharpen the memory and make imaginary tangents more inviting. Switching on the radio was no help thanks to the retro Top 40 - as if mocking him, it was playing Groove Armada's "I See You Baby".

He walked into the delicatessen and picked up his order - they knew him well there, and he was charming to them as usual. They served a fine selection of goods and he had been persuaded to try the Italian chicken last time he had visited. It had been excellent, and he told them so.

"You're looking a bit hot and bothered, Mr. Edgeworth," the shop assistant said to him. "Sure you don't wanna try the cold duck and hoi sin special? It's pretty good!"

"Just busy, just busy," Edgeworth tried to sound casual, but the shop assistant picking up on his red face had made him panic. He picked up the paper bags with the baguettes in, heading towards the door. "I'll try that next time, perhaps?"

"Right you are!" the shop assistants waved goodbye to him as he left.

Edgeworth drove back, eyes on the road but thinking of the options left to him. He knew that once the weekend was over Gumshoe would be back in his trenchcoat - that combined with the usual hectic work week would probably do the trick in breaking the chronically looping thought cycle he seemed to have settled into. And yet, although he was trying to stop thinking about it, he knew deep down that it was logic trying to override an altogether more primal urge. He couldn't unsee what he had seen, and he was beginning to accept that in actual fact, he didn't really want to - nor would he object to seeing more of it.

Damn him - it wasn't supposed to work out like this. And he doesn't even realise.

Gumshoe was a necessary nuisance - he wasn't supposed to be anything more, and the fact that he had such an alluring rear end and other distractingly attractive features was bordering on the unfair. It was partly the Detective's masculinity that made it all so inviting, but it also meant that nothing would ever come of it.

Edgeworth sighed, pulling into the drive of the house. Yes, nothing would ever come of it, so he decided to just give in and enjoy it while it lasted. Provided he could survive the weekend without giving into his grabby fingers, the Detective would never know - so there was no harm in it.
He came back to weed-free flowerbeds. Gumshoe's forearms were caked with potting mix, and he had big dirty smears across his forehead and on his cheeks where he'd wiped his sweating face. But he had a child's grin on his face - a happy sandboy indeed. His eyes widened at the sight of the two baguettes Edgeworth was carrying on a plate.

"Whoa! Th-those... those are both for me?" Gumshoe asked, unable to believe his eyes.

"No. One's for Pess," Edgeworth said, face deadpan.

"Oh, right," Gumshoe seemed to readily accept this, and picked up one of the baguettes. "Here, boy!" he called to Pess, who came trotting up. Gumshoe held out the baguette-

"Pess, here!" Edgeworth motioned to his collie, who immediately walked straight past Gumshoe to sit by his side. "Good boy," the prosecutor fished out the dog biscuit he'd pocketed on his way out of the house, throwing it to Pess. "Don't accept food from strangers."

"Aw, but I'm your pal, right, Pess?" Gumshoe asked, waggling the baguette enticingly in Pess' direction, but Pess was happily chewing on his biscuit and stayed by his master's side, tail thumping the floor.

"Will you stop waving that baguette around and eat it, Detective?" Edgeworth sighed. "Of course they're both for you."

Gumshoe winked.

"I knew that, sir - I was just playing along. Heh, bet you thought I wasn't, right?" He sat down at the garden table and took a massive bite out of the baguette. "Mmmm!"

"Given that sarcasm is normally wasted on you unless employed via sledgehammer, it's not an unreasonable conclusion," Edgeworth sat down and started munching on his own BLT. As expected, it was delicious.

"Thanks for this, boss," Gumshoe said around another mouthful. "I feel like I've eaten a whole weekend of meals in a day! You sure treat your labour well."

"Well, you appear to give value for money. To an extent."

"That's my motto!" Gumshoe saluted.

"Too bad you don't apply it in the workplace as well."

"Aw, I don't?"

"It amazes me that you've turned out to be a vaguely competent handyman, given how hopeless you are as a Detective."

"Guess that's why I haven't bought a prawn baguette since year dot, huh?" Gumshoe chuckled, taking another bite. It was nearly all gone, and Edgeworth was barely half-way down his BLT.

"Well, at least you'll have something else to fall back on if I give you the sack."

Gumshoe choked on a prawn.

"S-sir?!"

Edgeworth snorted, he'd just taken a bite out of his BLT so he couldn't laugh out loud.

"Hey, don't make jokes like that!" Gumshoe protested. "That's my noodle money you're toying with, pal!"

"Would you honestly miss the pittance that the DA Office pays you?"

Gumshoe paused.

"I'd miss working with you, boss," he said. "When the Chief sacked me last time, I told 'em I'd work for free if they let me come back." He sighed. "They weren't having any of it, though. If you hadn't got me reinstated, well, I dunno. Dunno what I'd do, really."

Edgeworth's stomach knotted. That warm feeling was coming back again, and though he recognised it as silly sentimentalism, he couldn’t seem to help it.

"Well, I, er, that is to say," he floundered.

"I like doing this kind of thing," Gumshoe gestured at the garden, "but there's nothing that gets me more fired up than chasing leads on a case!"

"Oh, absolutely," Edgeworth seized on that - anything to focus on to try and ward off the pink tinge he could feel coming over his face. "I certainly would be thoroughly bored and frustrated if I were to stay at home all the time."

"Right enough!" Gumshoe agreed, picking up the second baguette. "I love my days off but you can have too much of a good thing, huh?"

"It's the hectic days in the office that make the days of quiet all the more peaceful, I would say."

Pess rested his head on Edgeworth's knee, and Edgeworth reached down to stroke him. The black parts of the collie's fur were warm from absorbing the sun. It had been a long winter - it was good to be sitting outside under a blue sky like this, though he knew this hot fluster coming over him wasn’t entirely weather-induced.

"You know, Mr. Edgeworth, you never used to take any days off. Until... you know," Gumshoe made a gesture. Edgeworth knew what he was referring to.

"There was no need, Detective," he replied, finishing the last of his BLT with his free hand while still making a fuss of Pess, scratching behind his soft ears. "I didn't particularly enjoy the company of my own thoughts - I saw little point in confining myself with them longer than was necessary. Now, however, I appreciate the value of having time off now and again." He smiled. "Perhaps I'm getting old."

"Hey, what does that say about me?"

"Getting old doesn't apply to you, Detective - you have the mental age of a six year old the vast majority of the time."

Gumshoe opened his mouth to protest, but Edgeworth held up his hand.

"Objection overruled - you were caught redhanded making paperplanes out of the pile of journal articles I gave you for shredding; ergo, you don't have a leg to stand on."

"Aw, guilty as charged," Gumshoe chuckled. “But seriously, though, boss - I reckon it’s good you’re taking some days off now. I don’t get so many pay cuts ‘cause you’re in a good mood!”

“Hm, really? How out of character - I’ll make sure I’m more consistent in future. Come to think of it, I never did submit that pay review request after the paper planes incident…”

“Uhhh, you’re fine, boss,” Gumshoe said hastily. “Oh, hey, you know,” he added, changing the subject, “I think that HR guy nearly fell off his chair when I handed in your first annual leave request - aw, you should’ve seen his face, it was priceless!”

Edgeworth smirked.

“I can imagine - still, I am as entitled to annual leave as the next person. Though I doubt I’ll ever use my full entitlement.”

"I bet going to visit Spain and Italy made you wanna slow down a little too, huh? They have all their siestas and stuff." Gumshoe sighed happily. "A two hour nap after lunch - now that's the life."

"And waste half the day? I think not. I like to be at least productive on my days off. Unlike some people I could mention - you and Wright both have a penchant for sleeping through your leave days."

Gumshoe flashed him a thumbs-up sign.

"Mr. Wright's a man after my own heart!"

"I sincerely hope not. For both your sakes."

Though Edgeworth had to admit, he wasn’t much of a morning person either. He slept better these days, at least. Though he rather suspected his dreams were going to be more down the line of fantasies tonight. His latest point of fixation was Gumshoe's hands, his attention drawn to them by the Detective’s earlier gesture. It was if a switch had been flipped in his mind today - he had never looked at them closely before, but now found that despite being covered in potting mix, he actually rather liked them.

The Detective's dirt-smudged fingers were stubby and calloused, pressing firmly into the bread as he tucked into baguette number two with gusto. There were fine dark hairs on his fingers and on the back of his hand, and a pale white scar ran across his knuckles, made wavy by the tendons standing out beneath the skin, hardened by manual work. They contrasted so drastically with his own, and he wondered what they were like to touch. Probably rough and ready - like Gumshoe himself.

“So can I build your gazebo now, boss?” Gumshoe chowed down the last of his baguette. “I’m all tanked up and ready to go!”

“Have you built one before?”

“Nah, but you can do anything with instructions!” Gumshoe said with conviction.

“It’s from IKEA. You have been warned.”

“Oh wow, really?” Gumshoe’s eyes lit up. “I’ve always wanted something from IKEA - like, I dunno, a kitchen or something. They look so swell in the catalogues, y’know?”

“They’re a pain to fit. Even the joiner couldn’t figure out where the screws were meant to go.”

After the kitchen fiasco he’d vowed never to buy anything from IKEA again, but the gazebo had caught his eye and he couldn’t find one he liked anywhere else. He’d been putting off calling in the joiner to assemble it because of how complicated it had been last time. However, he was starting to believe that Gumshoe would be worthy of the challenge.

“This way,” he picked up the empty plate and nodded down the path.
While Gumshoe was sizing up the piles of painted white struts, Edgeworth went into the shed and retrieved the enormous packet of screws, nuts and bolts, along with the instructions.

"I'll need my drill set for this," Gumshoe said to him when he returned. "I'll just nip out to my old jalopy and get it outta the boot."

That was good - Edgeworth didn't have one of his own. He'd never needed one before now; after all, he normally got in contractors to do this kind of thing.

The Detective ran back to his car, and while he was gone Edgeworth tried to work out how to open up the instructions - they looked like a booklet, but when he tried to flick through it, it turned out it was actually a single, massive sheet of paper. He couldn't seem to find a corner by which to open it out, so in the end he gave it a frustrated shake and the whole thing flopped open. He looked at it in dismay. Holding it up, he could see Gumshoe coming back down the path through the massive hole that had been eaten in the middle of the paper.

"We have a problem," he said to the Detective.

"Wow, that's a whole lotta hole!" Gumshoe said, peering at the edges. "Looks like you've got a colony of paper mites in your shed, boss."

"Heavens, will they get into the house?" Edgeworth said in alarm. He had so many old books and papers stored in there - to lose those would be a disaster.

"They can do - but they take a long time to do that kind of damage," Gumshoe took the instruction book from him. "How long have you had this, pal?"

"Er..." Edgeworth wouldn't meet his gaze. He had been putting this off for rather too long, it seemed. "Since last spring."

Gumshoe gaped.

"Why didn't you get me to come over before, pal? I could've had it up for you in a jiffy!"

"Er, well, you're here now, are you not?"

Gumshoe prodded the wood with the toe of his boot.

"It's well packed an' all, but if you leave wood out like this without treating it, it can go kinda rotten," he said, squatting down to unwrap the polythene sheeting around a bundle of two-by-fours. He ran his hand over it, then brought one of the struts up close to his face, examining it. Then he stood up, lifting one of the struts and placing it cross-ways on the pile.

"Guess we'll find out!" He stomped on the strut with his foot, and Edgeworth winced at the cracking sound.

"Nope. No good," Gumshoe shook his head, kicking the splintered strut to one side. "If I built that, it'd fall on your head, boss."

Edgeworth was staring at the broken strut - the Detective had split it with a single strike. The man really was built like a tank; even if the strut hadn't been rotten, he rather suspected it would've still split under that kind of force.

"Were you a karate master in another life or something?"

"Huh?" Gumshoe blinked. "Oh. Hey, that would be pretty cool if I was!" he reached a hand out, and Edgeworth handed him the instructions.

"Why are you bothering to read those when we no longer have the appropriate building materials?" Edgeworth asked, for Gumshoe was studying the parts list while chewing on one thumbnail.

"Well, it's still doable if we buy new wood," Gumshoe murmured, a frown appearing on his face as he studied the finished construction diagram. "The roof slats and whatnot will still be alright. It'd be a real shame not to make it when you've bought it and everything."

"But you're missing half the instructions!"

"Ahhh, but we have a picture!" Gumshoe showed it to him.

"But you just said you've never built one before - you can't make an entire gazebo using a picture," Edgeworth had a very bad feeling about this.

"Sure I can!" Gumshoe said easily. "I made the Blue Badger from the Police Chief's drawing, so I can make a gazebo from this - no worries."

"I do not want a wriggling plywood gazebo in my garden!"

"Aw, but it wouldn't be plywood, boss - that'd go down like a house of cards at the first breeze. We'll need teak, or something. I'll build it solid - you can count on that," Gumshoe winked. "Trust Gadget Gumshoe, he'll save your gazebo!"

"I'm not so sure it needs saving," Edgeworth said weakly, but he still drove Gumshoe to the hardware store.