News part 3
News part 1
News part 2
The club was a bit loud, the Sunday buffet rush in full swing. Their coats were taken and they were escorted without waiting to the table that Stephen had nailed down, William nowhere in sight.
"Glad you could make it," Stephen said, lifting his voice over the crowd. "Dad'll be back in a minute. Mimosas?"
“Sure,” Blair beamed, and Jim added blandly, as though it were part of the same sentence, “We’re so happy you’re happy for us.”
There was a beat while they looked at each other, and then Blair and Stephen howled, while Jim snickered more quietly to himself.
“Good to see my family having fun,” came William’s voice as his hand landed on Jim’s shoulder. “Let’s get some food.”
~@~
Still a little bemused by Blair’s take on the brunch invitation, Jim kept his ears open to the diners and staff around them, trying to discover whether they were the topic of any conversation. Blair flicked him a reproving glance once as he dropped the conversational ball at their own table, but Jim was accustomed to picking up on fairly subtle cues by now. Repressing a grin at the internal joke, Jim leaned forward and said, “We have a plan for that, worked out with Simon and the Chief. Basically, if I need more control than I have, the call goes in for a Profiler. Which will be Sandburg. And since that’s a separate portion of the scene investigation, it doesn’t count as being together by department rules.”
His father sat back, partially reassured, and Blair threw a question at Steve.
“ … evidence locker,” Jim heard from several tables away, and he tapped Blair’s knuckles, tilting his head when the man looked at him. Blair threw his eyes up with a grin, shifted his knee so he was bumped up against Jim’s leg, and dove back into the conversation, giving Jim the space and the grounding to listen more carefully.
“Can not believe it,” the voice continued, and Jim moved his head a trifle, listening to the change in sound, coordinating the ambient noises, and focused in on a table midway between theirs and the back of the club. A flick of his eyes around the reflective surfaces available led him to the image of the man who had spoken: a corpulent middle-aged figure, his broad face marred by the ruddy traces of pique.
“You must accept that these mistakes happen from time to time, Charles,” a melodious voice urged him. Jim leaned slightly and caught a glimpse of a trim masculine person with a long straight nose. “The police are only human, after all. Some contamination of the evidence cannot always be avoided, try as they might.”
“But he’s warned now,” ‘Charles’ complained. “We’ll never catch him again, and …”
“I know, I know,” the other man soothed. “Perhaps he’ll take it as a warning to get out of such a dirty business. And if not - why, there’s always another chance to catch him.”
Their conversation moved away to other topics, and Jim focused back on his own family, tucking the fragment away.
~@~
It was really strange, Blair mused, to be introduced as “My son-in-law, Blair Sandburg, also with Cascade’s police department” to the scant but significant number of visitors to their table. Four men had already come by, and they hadn’t even made it to the fruit yet. Most of the other tables had gotten no visitors at all, even in this hubbub, while a few had one visitor, and even fewer had had two. And by the perfectly composed way that Mr. - that Bill held himself, it was a fairly high-stakes wager he had made, the outcome of which was still in doubt.
“Pleased to meet you,” he said to the fifth man, a Grover Tounsen, head of the R&D department of an electronics company once associated with the Ellison business.
“I used to know a Sandburg down in Los Angeles,” the man said abruptly, shaking his hand. “Darnell Sandburg. Programmer. Very careful. Any relation?”
It was hard to keep the laughter out of his face, so he didn’t try. “Not that I know of. There’s a branch of the family in Texas, and I think one in Minnesota, but I was never introduced to a Darnell. Stranger things, though, stranger things …”
Tounsen nodded sharply. “Know what you mean. Case in point, and all. More ways than one of bringing in fresh blood, as I always said,” he turned emphatically to Bill, “You make sure you tell me the real origin of ideas, got it?”
Blair took a visual snapshot of the table as Bill Ellison held up his hands and said peaceably, “I doubt he’ll give me anything for you, but I promise to let you know if he does.” Jim had one eyebrow up, curious about the interaction; Steve was looking at the table with one corner of his mouth tucked back in well-suppressed amusement. And Bill was looking slightly natural, which meant he was slightly relaxed, which meant he’d won his wager.
And Tounsen turned back to Blair and said earnestly, “You talk directly to me, you hear? He’s retired these days, hardly gets any work done at all,” and the man was handing over his card! “But I know how Sandburg brains work, and I’ll give anything you say an honest hearing and an honest cut.”
Caught off guard and with his mouth open, Blair was pitiably grateful when Jim leaned forward with that big-cat’s sprawl of his, and answered, “Blair usually pits his brains against criminals these days, but if he comes up with any electric ideas, I’ll remind him to speak to you.”
Tounsen acknowledged him with a sharp nod, flicked a finger’s worth of salute at Ellison Senior, and left them.
Steve snorted, Bill crinkled his eyes, and Jim casually tapped the bottom of Blair’s chin. He snapped his mouth shut, and then opened it again incredulously.
“What’s he … who is … Bill, who was that?”
“More to the point, Dad,” Jim interrupted in the casual tone that meant he wasn’t in the least, “Who is the man at the door? The large guy, standing next to the skinny one?”
Bill cast his eyes left briefly, and answered, “Charles Gardner, Wescorp VP of Operations, with Daniel Liepins, his ADC. Wescorp specializes in pipes, fittings, such things; used to manufacture, now does resale, with suppliers in the third world. Can I ask why?”
Blair pinned Jim with a thoroughly disgusted look. “No. Jim’s eavesdropping, and he needs to learn the difference between gathering information and spreading rumors. Now: Grover Tounsen: What sort of ideas does he gather?”
News part 2
The club was a bit loud, the Sunday buffet rush in full swing. Their coats were taken and they were escorted without waiting to the table that Stephen had nailed down, William nowhere in sight.
"Glad you could make it," Stephen said, lifting his voice over the crowd. "Dad'll be back in a minute. Mimosas?"
“Sure,” Blair beamed, and Jim added blandly, as though it were part of the same sentence, “We’re so happy you’re happy for us.”
There was a beat while they looked at each other, and then Blair and Stephen howled, while Jim snickered more quietly to himself.
“Good to see my family having fun,” came William’s voice as his hand landed on Jim’s shoulder. “Let’s get some food.”
~@~
Still a little bemused by Blair’s take on the brunch invitation, Jim kept his ears open to the diners and staff around them, trying to discover whether they were the topic of any conversation. Blair flicked him a reproving glance once as he dropped the conversational ball at their own table, but Jim was accustomed to picking up on fairly subtle cues by now. Repressing a grin at the internal joke, Jim leaned forward and said, “We have a plan for that, worked out with Simon and the Chief. Basically, if I need more control than I have, the call goes in for a Profiler. Which will be Sandburg. And since that’s a separate portion of the scene investigation, it doesn’t count as being together by department rules.”
His father sat back, partially reassured, and Blair threw a question at Steve.
“ … evidence locker,” Jim heard from several tables away, and he tapped Blair’s knuckles, tilting his head when the man looked at him. Blair threw his eyes up with a grin, shifted his knee so he was bumped up against Jim’s leg, and dove back into the conversation, giving Jim the space and the grounding to listen more carefully.
“Can not believe it,” the voice continued, and Jim moved his head a trifle, listening to the change in sound, coordinating the ambient noises, and focused in on a table midway between theirs and the back of the club. A flick of his eyes around the reflective surfaces available led him to the image of the man who had spoken: a corpulent middle-aged figure, his broad face marred by the ruddy traces of pique.
“You must accept that these mistakes happen from time to time, Charles,” a melodious voice urged him. Jim leaned slightly and caught a glimpse of a trim masculine person with a long straight nose. “The police are only human, after all. Some contamination of the evidence cannot always be avoided, try as they might.”
“But he’s warned now,” ‘Charles’ complained. “We’ll never catch him again, and …”
“I know, I know,” the other man soothed. “Perhaps he’ll take it as a warning to get out of such a dirty business. And if not - why, there’s always another chance to catch him.”
Their conversation moved away to other topics, and Jim focused back on his own family, tucking the fragment away.
~@~
It was really strange, Blair mused, to be introduced as “My son-in-law, Blair Sandburg, also with Cascade’s police department” to the scant but significant number of visitors to their table. Four men had already come by, and they hadn’t even made it to the fruit yet. Most of the other tables had gotten no visitors at all, even in this hubbub, while a few had one visitor, and even fewer had had two. And by the perfectly composed way that Mr. - that Bill held himself, it was a fairly high-stakes wager he had made, the outcome of which was still in doubt.
“Pleased to meet you,” he said to the fifth man, a Grover Tounsen, head of the R&D department of an electronics company once associated with the Ellison business.
“I used to know a Sandburg down in Los Angeles,” the man said abruptly, shaking his hand. “Darnell Sandburg. Programmer. Very careful. Any relation?”
It was hard to keep the laughter out of his face, so he didn’t try. “Not that I know of. There’s a branch of the family in Texas, and I think one in Minnesota, but I was never introduced to a Darnell. Stranger things, though, stranger things …”
Tounsen nodded sharply. “Know what you mean. Case in point, and all. More ways than one of bringing in fresh blood, as I always said,” he turned emphatically to Bill, “You make sure you tell me the real origin of ideas, got it?”
Blair took a visual snapshot of the table as Bill Ellison held up his hands and said peaceably, “I doubt he’ll give me anything for you, but I promise to let you know if he does.” Jim had one eyebrow up, curious about the interaction; Steve was looking at the table with one corner of his mouth tucked back in well-suppressed amusement. And Bill was looking slightly natural, which meant he was slightly relaxed, which meant he’d won his wager.
And Tounsen turned back to Blair and said earnestly, “You talk directly to me, you hear? He’s retired these days, hardly gets any work done at all,” and the man was handing over his card! “But I know how Sandburg brains work, and I’ll give anything you say an honest hearing and an honest cut.”
Caught off guard and with his mouth open, Blair was pitiably grateful when Jim leaned forward with that big-cat’s sprawl of his, and answered, “Blair usually pits his brains against criminals these days, but if he comes up with any electric ideas, I’ll remind him to speak to you.”
Tounsen acknowledged him with a sharp nod, flicked a finger’s worth of salute at Ellison Senior, and left them.
Steve snorted, Bill crinkled his eyes, and Jim casually tapped the bottom of Blair’s chin. He snapped his mouth shut, and then opened it again incredulously.
“What’s he … who is … Bill, who was that?”
“More to the point, Dad,” Jim interrupted in the casual tone that meant he wasn’t in the least, “Who is the man at the door? The large guy, standing next to the skinny one?”
Bill cast his eyes left briefly, and answered, “Charles Gardner, Wescorp VP of Operations, with Daniel Liepins, his ADC. Wescorp specializes in pipes, fittings, such things; used to manufacture, now does resale, with suppliers in the third world. Can I ask why?”
Blair pinned Jim with a thoroughly disgusted look. “No. Jim’s eavesdropping, and he needs to learn the difference between gathering information and spreading rumors. Now: Grover Tounsen: What sort of ideas does he gather?”