shoulda been a challenge response...
Thursday100plus Numbers Challenge
Title: Got Your Number
Flavour: TOS
Detectives Ed Green and Lennie Briscoe
Rating: E for Everyone
Warning: Silliness
Word count: 785
Note: Alas, by the time I got my act together, the Numbers Challenge was closed. However, the story insisted on being written anyway. I mean, really. How could I resist a plotbunny that spoke with Lennie’s voice?
Ed shut off the engine and eyed the building across the street. “You sure about the address?” he asked.
Lennie pulled a matchbook from his jacket pocket and consulted the scribbled note on the inside cover. “This is the place.”
The two men got out of the car and walked toward the entrance.
“I don’t know, Lennie. Doesn’t look much like a bookie joint to me.”
“What? You were expecting a sign, flashing neon maybe - ‘illegal gambling this way’?”
Ed grinned. “You’ve got to admit, it would make police work a whole lot easier,” he said. “It’s just…a bookie joint here? Come on, man. It’s a senior’s home.”
“And Mitchell is an equal opportunity bookie. As long as you’ve got money, he’ll give you the opportunity to get rid of it - age is no barrier.” Lennie opened the door and stepped into the busy lobby, looking around.
Following his partner, Ed watched in amusement as a few of the female occupants began giving Lennie the once-over. Some of the looks were coy, others were more openly…inviting.
Lennie flashed a grin at one older woman. “Pardon me, ma’am. I wonder if you can help me. I’m looking for someone.”
The woman’s smile grew slightly predatory as she sidled up to Lennie. “My pleasure, handsome. But I think you’ve found her.” She laid a hand on his arm and started to draw him toward the elevator.
Another woman hurried over to them. “Louise Charlotte, you let that man go.”
Louise Charlotte pouted, but did as she was told. “You never let me have any fun.”
“I’m so sorry about that,” said the other woman. “I’m Libby, her sister. She didn’t mean anything. Louise is just friendly, that’s all. Our whole family is, really.” She placed reached up and brushed imaginary lint off Lennie’s jacket.
Ed had a hard time containing his laughter as the scene played out in front of him. However, his laughter was cut short when a hand ran down his back.
“Aren’t you just a cutie,” purred Louise Charlotte.
Ed felt like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. “Uh…uh…Lennie!” Ed offered a nervous smile as he edged away from the woman. “I’m flattered - really - but I’m not…I-I mean…I’m with him,” he said, pointing to his partner.
Her smile faltered. “You’re with him? You mean…”
“He’s my partner,” explained Ed. “Ma’am, we’re--”
“Yes, I understand. Isn’t that always the way?” sighed Louise Charlotte. She smiled, patted his arm and went to her sister. “Let’s go, Libby.”
“But--”
“Libby, they’re partners,” she said, with an inflection on the last word.
Libby’s eyes widened. “Ohh. I see.” She looked longingly at Lennie as she followed her sister to the elevator.
Lennie watched them go, confusion written on his face. “What the hell was that about?”
Before Ed could form a coherent reply, they were joined by very thin man who looked to be on the interesting side of 100. “Don’t mind them ladies, gents. They always get a little frisky after a big win.”
Ed and Lennie flashed their badges.
Lennie eyed the man. “You are…?”
“Folks here abouts just call me Casanova,” he laughed. “I’m what you might call the social director.”
Ed and Lennie exchanged looks.
“What can this law abiding citizen do for a couple of New York’s finest?” asked Casanova.
Ed pulled a photo from his pocket. “We’re looking for this guy - goes by the name of Denny Mitchell. You know him?”
“Sure. He’s here every week like clockwork - runs the Thursday Special.” He leaned toward the detectives conspiratorially and whispered, “That’s what’s got the ladies all excited.”
Lennie smirked. “So, Casanova, is this guy still around?”
“Oh sure. He’s just helping put everything away. C’mon this way.”
Lennie and Ed followed Casanova down a hallway and into a back room. Tables and chairs were scattered throughout the room, along with balloons and streamers.
Ed leaned over to whisper to Lennie. “This doesn’t look like a numbers racket - more like a birthday party.”
Lennie shrugged and pointed to a man standing on a table in front of a storage cupboard. His back was to the door and he appeared to be struggling to hold on to something.
At a nod from his partner, Ed called out. “Denny Mitchell? NYPD.”
The man jumped, almost losing his balance as he spun around. The object in his hands fell and hit the table and broke apart.
Dozens of little round balls spilled out, rolled across the table, bounced on the floor, scattering around the room with a deafening clatter. Ed looked down as a ball marked B4 hit his shoe.
As silence descended on the room, Lennie smirked. “Now that’s what I call a numbers racket.”
-end-
Title: Got Your Number
Flavour: TOS
Detectives Ed Green and Lennie Briscoe
Rating: E for Everyone
Warning: Silliness
Word count: 785
Note: Alas, by the time I got my act together, the Numbers Challenge was closed. However, the story insisted on being written anyway. I mean, really. How could I resist a plotbunny that spoke with Lennie’s voice?
Ed shut off the engine and eyed the building across the street. “You sure about the address?” he asked.
Lennie pulled a matchbook from his jacket pocket and consulted the scribbled note on the inside cover. “This is the place.”
The two men got out of the car and walked toward the entrance.
“I don’t know, Lennie. Doesn’t look much like a bookie joint to me.”
“What? You were expecting a sign, flashing neon maybe - ‘illegal gambling this way’?”
Ed grinned. “You’ve got to admit, it would make police work a whole lot easier,” he said. “It’s just…a bookie joint here? Come on, man. It’s a senior’s home.”
“And Mitchell is an equal opportunity bookie. As long as you’ve got money, he’ll give you the opportunity to get rid of it - age is no barrier.” Lennie opened the door and stepped into the busy lobby, looking around.
Following his partner, Ed watched in amusement as a few of the female occupants began giving Lennie the once-over. Some of the looks were coy, others were more openly…inviting.
Lennie flashed a grin at one older woman. “Pardon me, ma’am. I wonder if you can help me. I’m looking for someone.”
The woman’s smile grew slightly predatory as she sidled up to Lennie. “My pleasure, handsome. But I think you’ve found her.” She laid a hand on his arm and started to draw him toward the elevator.
Another woman hurried over to them. “Louise Charlotte, you let that man go.”
Louise Charlotte pouted, but did as she was told. “You never let me have any fun.”
“I’m so sorry about that,” said the other woman. “I’m Libby, her sister. She didn’t mean anything. Louise is just friendly, that’s all. Our whole family is, really.” She placed reached up and brushed imaginary lint off Lennie’s jacket.
Ed had a hard time containing his laughter as the scene played out in front of him. However, his laughter was cut short when a hand ran down his back.
“Aren’t you just a cutie,” purred Louise Charlotte.
Ed felt like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. “Uh…uh…Lennie!” Ed offered a nervous smile as he edged away from the woman. “I’m flattered - really - but I’m not…I-I mean…I’m with him,” he said, pointing to his partner.
Her smile faltered. “You’re with him? You mean…”
“He’s my partner,” explained Ed. “Ma’am, we’re--”
“Yes, I understand. Isn’t that always the way?” sighed Louise Charlotte. She smiled, patted his arm and went to her sister. “Let’s go, Libby.”
“But--”
“Libby, they’re partners,” she said, with an inflection on the last word.
Libby’s eyes widened. “Ohh. I see.” She looked longingly at Lennie as she followed her sister to the elevator.
Lennie watched them go, confusion written on his face. “What the hell was that about?”
Before Ed could form a coherent reply, they were joined by very thin man who looked to be on the interesting side of 100. “Don’t mind them ladies, gents. They always get a little frisky after a big win.”
Ed and Lennie flashed their badges.
Lennie eyed the man. “You are…?”
“Folks here abouts just call me Casanova,” he laughed. “I’m what you might call the social director.”
Ed and Lennie exchanged looks.
“What can this law abiding citizen do for a couple of New York’s finest?” asked Casanova.
Ed pulled a photo from his pocket. “We’re looking for this guy - goes by the name of Denny Mitchell. You know him?”
“Sure. He’s here every week like clockwork - runs the Thursday Special.” He leaned toward the detectives conspiratorially and whispered, “That’s what’s got the ladies all excited.”
Lennie smirked. “So, Casanova, is this guy still around?”
“Oh sure. He’s just helping put everything away. C’mon this way.”
Lennie and Ed followed Casanova down a hallway and into a back room. Tables and chairs were scattered throughout the room, along with balloons and streamers.
Ed leaned over to whisper to Lennie. “This doesn’t look like a numbers racket - more like a birthday party.”
Lennie shrugged and pointed to a man standing on a table in front of a storage cupboard. His back was to the door and he appeared to be struggling to hold on to something.
At a nod from his partner, Ed called out. “Denny Mitchell? NYPD.”
The man jumped, almost losing his balance as he spun around. The object in his hands fell and hit the table and broke apart.
Dozens of little round balls spilled out, rolled across the table, bounced on the floor, scattering around the room with a deafening clatter. Ed looked down as a ball marked B4 hit his shoe.
As silence descended on the room, Lennie smirked. “Now that’s what I call a numbers racket.”
-end-