Nick & Nora 1/8
Nick & Nora
Author: browneyesparker
Artist: justlook3
Link to art: http://justlook3.livejournal.com/161961.html
Word Count: 12, 752
Rating: K+
Summary: AU
Disclaimer: "the Thin Man" belongs to Dashiell Hammett and W.S Van Dyke. "the Mentalist" belongs to Bruno Heller and Warner Brothers.
Notes: This story is in NO WAY related to the Kat Danning and Michael Cera movie "Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist". It was actually inspired by four things, "Heroes" by David Bowie, a quote by Robin Tunney in a 2010 issue of TV Guide, the summers I spent in the Cape Cod as a kid/pre-teen (which, were murder free) and "Murder, She Wrote" with a little bit of Poirot and Wooster & Jeeves. I don't think the latter comes out TOO much, but it certainly has that feel. To justlook3, the one who encouraged me to write this in the first place and supplied me with the AMAZING art to go along with it, to my two little sisters who told me not to complain and just write, to my brother who asked how my "babies" were coming along, to my dad who said it was okay if I didn't finish it when the stress of my grandfather's death and arguments with my sister became too great, and to my beta-reader just_mosie and the couple people who read test versions and fixed mistakes/added in put. . . thank you. You all made this story possible.
Patrick Jane waved when he saw his wife, Teresa, staring down at him from the balcony of their modest beach home, cordless phone in one hand and the other cupped around her mouth as she called out to him. The wind and waves were so wild because of an oncoming storm that, except for his name, he could barely make out what she was trying to say to him. He hurled aside the piece of driftwood he had picked up after his afternoon session on the waves and grabbed his surfboard from the sand, deciding to go and see what she wanted instead of trying to understand what she was saying from a distance.
When she saw him headed towards the house, she put the phone to her ear, said something to the person on the other end, and then disappeared inside, shutting the glass doors behind her.
Teresa came outside just as he had propped his surfboard up against the house and had started to peel off his wet suit.
“The sheriff called to talk to you,” she said as she hopped up on the porch railing and watched as he pulled a t-shirt the color of a robin’s egg over his head before slinging his wet suit over the clothes line.
“Did he say what he wanted?” Patrick asked, looking around for a towel to dry out his blonde curls with.
She shook her head and wrapped her arms around her body as the wind picked up even more, chilling her slightly and causing her brunette tresses to sweep across her cheeks. “No, all he said was that it was important and that he’d be stopping over to have a chat with you in thirty minutes or so.”
“I wonder what he could want,” Patrick mused. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been in trouble with the law. . . .” He stopped short when he saw the disapproving look in his wife’s eyes and shrugged. “I’m sure it has nothing to do with me, it isn’t like you can get into much trouble living in a sleepy, coastal town like this.”
“I’m sure people could find a way if they really wanted to,” Teresa replied, smiling at him.
Patrick smirked in return and peered out at the horizon. “Let’s get inside. I don’t think that the rain is going to hold off much longer, and you look like you’re freezing in nothing but shorts and a sleeveless blouse.”
“I’m not cold at all,” she said, her body giving her away as she shivered against the breeze slightly, her bare arms were dotted with goose bumps.
ldquo;Well, whether you’re cold or not, I’d like a cup of tea and I still need to finish getting dressed before Sherriff Cho shows up.”
“Right,” said Teresa, sliding off the railing and following him into their house just as the rain started to pour mercilessly from the dark clouds. “You go and finish getting dressed and I’ll put the tea on.”
A few minutes later, he joined her in the kitchen fully dressed with their fox wire terrier at his heels and her favorite oversized sweatshirt draped over his arm.
“Here,” he said as he slipped it over her head. “I thought you might still be cold.”
“Just a little bit,” she admitted as the water began to boil and there was a knock at their front door. “Oh, that must be the sheriff,” Teresa looked at the time on their microwave and frowned as she pushed her arms into the sleeves. “He’s early. . . I really hope everything’s okay.”
“In a sleepy little town like this?” Patrick said. “I’m sure everything’s fine, he probably wants to discuss a parking ticket or something. I don’t think we were parked in the right spot when we went out to eat a couple of nights ago.”
“You’re probably right,” she agreed, not too happy with the prospect of a parking ticket. “Could you go and answer the door while I finish making your tea?”
He nodded obligingly and dropped an indulgent kiss on her cheek before picking up the dog and doing as she had requested.
Patrick flung the door open and ushered the soaking wet sheriff into the foyer with an enthusiastic greeting, fully prepared to talk his way out of the parking ticket he was sure the man had come to discuss with him. The theatrical smile slid off of his face when he saw his friend’s grim expression.
“Is everything okay Kimball?” He asked, dropping the formalities and leading him into the living room.
“You haven’t heard?”
Patrick frowned. “We haven’t heard anything, Teresa and I have been here all day. And nobody’s stopped by to see us either, what’s going on?”
Cho tugged at his collar and shifted uncomfortably as he avoided the other man’s eyes. “Well-”
“Your tea’s ready, Patrick,” Teresa said as she breezed into the living room with a full tray, she set it down on the coffee table in the middle of the room. “Sherriff Cho, welcome to our home. Won’t you sit down? It can’t be comfortable standing there like that.”
The Korean man nodded slightly and sat on the edge of their couch. “Thank you.”
Teresa held up a cup. “Tea? I made enough for all of us.”
“No thanks,” Cho answered.
She nodded and filled a turquoise cup with the amber liquid before handing it over to Patrick. She started her own cup and smiled at “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”
“Your husband and I were just about to discuss something that happened in town today,” Cho replied, the uncomfortable look returning.
“I hope everything’s okay,” Teresa said, taking a sip of her tea and peering at him over the rim of her mug.
“There was a murder at the bed & breakfast this morning,” Cho answered bluntly. “The owner’s daughter, Priscilla Bennett, didn’t return home after her date with her boyfriend, Edward Stephens, last night. Her mother went out to look for her this morning and found her on the beach strangled to death.”
Teresa choked on her drink mid-sip. “A murder?” she repeated, looking absolutely stunned. “Here in White Sands? When was the last time anything like that happened?”
“Over fifty years ago,” Cho admitted.
“You aren’t here because you think Teresa or I have anything to do with it, do you?” Patrick asked, running his finger along the rim of his cup.
“Of course not,” Cho answered. “It was obviously a crime of passion. I actually came to ask a favor of you, Patrick. I heard that you were quite an expert at solving crimes a few years ago and that you actually helped close more than a few prominent cases when you were with the CBI, including the Red John one over in Sacramento.”
“Yes, I did,” Patrick agreed, placing his tea down. “But those days are over now. The Red John case was my last one, I retired from detective work and married Teresa after I closed it.”
Cho frowned. “Don’t you think you’re a little young to be retired already?”
Patrick shrugged. “Whether I’m too young or not is beside the point. I’m really not interested in detective work anymore, Sherriff Cho.”
“Well, that’s too bad because we could really use your help. My men aren’t used to handling murder cases, and they aren’t too keen on having an outsider come in on their turf.”
“Patrick, I really think you should at least look into helping the police,” Teresa said slowly. “It would give you a chance to put your skills to good use, you know as well as I do that you’ve been bored since we moved here, and I’d love to see you in action after only hearing about your tales of catching bad guys the past two years-”
“Really, I don’t think this would be the best idea,” Patrick insisted. “Since you’ve heard about all my accomplishments, Sherriff, I’m pretty sure that you’ve heard my methods leave something to be desired, that I really don’t play nice with others and that I am quite difficult to work with.”
“Yes, I did hear that,” Cho affirmed. “But I’d be willing to overlook those facts if you were willing to help bring Priscilla Bennett to justice.”
“I liked Priscilla,” Teresa put in. “She sat behind me at Mass, she was such a nice girl too, it’s terrible that somebody decided to take her life-”
“I’m interested to know who you think is responsible for taking her life, Cho,” Patrick interjected.
“Like I said, it looked like a crime of passion,” Cho answered slowly, “and she was out with her boyfriend last night, so if pressed right now to make a decision on a guilty party then I’d have to say he was guilty-”
“Ha!” Patrick laughed. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you really have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“And how do you know this?” Cho challenged, raising a dark eyebrow as he observed the man.
“Because the boyfriend is always the most obvious choice when a crime like this happens!” Patrick answered. “And the only evidence you have to support your ‘theory’ is they were out together last night.”
“Well, he was the last one to see her alive,” Cho said. “So, I’m obligated to look into him.”
Patrick waved his hand like he was pushing the thought aside. “Meh, he’s innocent until proven guilty. You know what, I think I will help you . . . but only long enough to prove Edward’s innocence, after that you’re on your own, Sherriff.”
“Fine,” Cho conceded, nodding slightly.
“I’ll just need to see the body,” Patrick said.
Suddenly, Cho looked very uncomfortable. “Oh. . . I’m afraid that isn’t possible. The coroner took the body to the city hours ago.”
“That’s fine,” Patrick replied. “I’ll just drive into the city and have a look at the body there.”
“In this weather?” Teresa asked, looking slightly startled as her eyes inadvertently darted to the picture window and out at the storm raging outside.
“Meh, I’ll be fine. . .”
“Not in that wreck you call a car!” Teresa protested.
“I won’t take the Citroën,” he promised.
“I’ll call the coroner’s office and tell them that I gave you permission to look at the body,” Cho said, raising to his feet and taking his cell phone out of its holder.
“I’m going to come with you,” Teresa said, getting to her feet and beginning to clear the tea things away.
Patrick frowned. “Wouldn’t you rather stay here where it’s dry and safe?”
“I’ve never seen you at work,” she replied smoothly. “I think it’ll be interesting.”
“I think you should just stay here with the dog,” Patrick said.
“We could bring Asta with us,” Teresa answered over her shoulder as she disappeared into the kitchen.
Patrick shook his head, knowing that there was no way on earth he would be able to convince her to stay home, she had already made her mind up to come with him.
Cho snapped his phone shut and put it away. “Okay, I talked to them. They said that it was fine if you came in and looked at the body, but you’re going to have to wait until tomorrow. I just got a message that they shut down the main road because of the storm.”
Patrick nodded. “I guess it’s for the best.”
“At least the murderer won’t be able to leave tonight,” Cho said.
“That is a good thing,” Patrick agreed, thinking maybe if he left early enough than he wouldn’t have to bring his wife along.
“Well, I’ll leave you to your evening then. Have a good night.”
“You too,” Patrick replied, leading him to the door and showing him out.
Author: browneyesparker
Artist: justlook3
Link to art: http://justlook3.livejournal.com/161961.html
Word Count: 12, 752
Rating: K+
Summary: AU
Disclaimer: "the Thin Man" belongs to Dashiell Hammett and W.S Van Dyke. "the Mentalist" belongs to Bruno Heller and Warner Brothers.
Notes: This story is in NO WAY related to the Kat Danning and Michael Cera movie "Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist". It was actually inspired by four things, "Heroes" by David Bowie, a quote by Robin Tunney in a 2010 issue of TV Guide, the summers I spent in the Cape Cod as a kid/pre-teen (which, were murder free) and "Murder, She Wrote" with a little bit of Poirot and Wooster & Jeeves. I don't think the latter comes out TOO much, but it certainly has that feel. To justlook3, the one who encouraged me to write this in the first place and supplied me with the AMAZING art to go along with it, to my two little sisters who told me not to complain and just write, to my brother who asked how my "babies" were coming along, to my dad who said it was okay if I didn't finish it when the stress of my grandfather's death and arguments with my sister became too great, and to my beta-reader just_mosie and the couple people who read test versions and fixed mistakes/added in put. . . thank you. You all made this story possible.
Patrick Jane waved when he saw his wife, Teresa, staring down at him from the balcony of their modest beach home, cordless phone in one hand and the other cupped around her mouth as she called out to him. The wind and waves were so wild because of an oncoming storm that, except for his name, he could barely make out what she was trying to say to him. He hurled aside the piece of driftwood he had picked up after his afternoon session on the waves and grabbed his surfboard from the sand, deciding to go and see what she wanted instead of trying to understand what she was saying from a distance.
When she saw him headed towards the house, she put the phone to her ear, said something to the person on the other end, and then disappeared inside, shutting the glass doors behind her.
Teresa came outside just as he had propped his surfboard up against the house and had started to peel off his wet suit.
“The sheriff called to talk to you,” she said as she hopped up on the porch railing and watched as he pulled a t-shirt the color of a robin’s egg over his head before slinging his wet suit over the clothes line.
“Did he say what he wanted?” Patrick asked, looking around for a towel to dry out his blonde curls with.
She shook her head and wrapped her arms around her body as the wind picked up even more, chilling her slightly and causing her brunette tresses to sweep across her cheeks. “No, all he said was that it was important and that he’d be stopping over to have a chat with you in thirty minutes or so.”
“I wonder what he could want,” Patrick mused. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been in trouble with the law. . . .” He stopped short when he saw the disapproving look in his wife’s eyes and shrugged. “I’m sure it has nothing to do with me, it isn’t like you can get into much trouble living in a sleepy, coastal town like this.”
“I’m sure people could find a way if they really wanted to,” Teresa replied, smiling at him.
Patrick smirked in return and peered out at the horizon. “Let’s get inside. I don’t think that the rain is going to hold off much longer, and you look like you’re freezing in nothing but shorts and a sleeveless blouse.”
“I’m not cold at all,” she said, her body giving her away as she shivered against the breeze slightly, her bare arms were dotted with goose bumps.
ldquo;Well, whether you’re cold or not, I’d like a cup of tea and I still need to finish getting dressed before Sherriff Cho shows up.”
“Right,” said Teresa, sliding off the railing and following him into their house just as the rain started to pour mercilessly from the dark clouds. “You go and finish getting dressed and I’ll put the tea on.”
A few minutes later, he joined her in the kitchen fully dressed with their fox wire terrier at his heels and her favorite oversized sweatshirt draped over his arm.
“Here,” he said as he slipped it over her head. “I thought you might still be cold.”
“Just a little bit,” she admitted as the water began to boil and there was a knock at their front door. “Oh, that must be the sheriff,” Teresa looked at the time on their microwave and frowned as she pushed her arms into the sleeves. “He’s early. . . I really hope everything’s okay.”
“In a sleepy little town like this?” Patrick said. “I’m sure everything’s fine, he probably wants to discuss a parking ticket or something. I don’t think we were parked in the right spot when we went out to eat a couple of nights ago.”
“You’re probably right,” she agreed, not too happy with the prospect of a parking ticket. “Could you go and answer the door while I finish making your tea?”
He nodded obligingly and dropped an indulgent kiss on her cheek before picking up the dog and doing as she had requested.
Patrick flung the door open and ushered the soaking wet sheriff into the foyer with an enthusiastic greeting, fully prepared to talk his way out of the parking ticket he was sure the man had come to discuss with him. The theatrical smile slid off of his face when he saw his friend’s grim expression.
“Is everything okay Kimball?” He asked, dropping the formalities and leading him into the living room.
“You haven’t heard?”
Patrick frowned. “We haven’t heard anything, Teresa and I have been here all day. And nobody’s stopped by to see us either, what’s going on?”
Cho tugged at his collar and shifted uncomfortably as he avoided the other man’s eyes. “Well-”
“Your tea’s ready, Patrick,” Teresa said as she breezed into the living room with a full tray, she set it down on the coffee table in the middle of the room. “Sherriff Cho, welcome to our home. Won’t you sit down? It can’t be comfortable standing there like that.”
The Korean man nodded slightly and sat on the edge of their couch. “Thank you.”
Teresa held up a cup. “Tea? I made enough for all of us.”
“No thanks,” Cho answered.
She nodded and filled a turquoise cup with the amber liquid before handing it over to Patrick. She started her own cup and smiled at “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”
“Your husband and I were just about to discuss something that happened in town today,” Cho replied, the uncomfortable look returning.
“I hope everything’s okay,” Teresa said, taking a sip of her tea and peering at him over the rim of her mug.
“There was a murder at the bed & breakfast this morning,” Cho answered bluntly. “The owner’s daughter, Priscilla Bennett, didn’t return home after her date with her boyfriend, Edward Stephens, last night. Her mother went out to look for her this morning and found her on the beach strangled to death.”
Teresa choked on her drink mid-sip. “A murder?” she repeated, looking absolutely stunned. “Here in White Sands? When was the last time anything like that happened?”
“Over fifty years ago,” Cho admitted.
“You aren’t here because you think Teresa or I have anything to do with it, do you?” Patrick asked, running his finger along the rim of his cup.
“Of course not,” Cho answered. “It was obviously a crime of passion. I actually came to ask a favor of you, Patrick. I heard that you were quite an expert at solving crimes a few years ago and that you actually helped close more than a few prominent cases when you were with the CBI, including the Red John one over in Sacramento.”
“Yes, I did,” Patrick agreed, placing his tea down. “But those days are over now. The Red John case was my last one, I retired from detective work and married Teresa after I closed it.”
Cho frowned. “Don’t you think you’re a little young to be retired already?”
Patrick shrugged. “Whether I’m too young or not is beside the point. I’m really not interested in detective work anymore, Sherriff Cho.”
“Well, that’s too bad because we could really use your help. My men aren’t used to handling murder cases, and they aren’t too keen on having an outsider come in on their turf.”
“Patrick, I really think you should at least look into helping the police,” Teresa said slowly. “It would give you a chance to put your skills to good use, you know as well as I do that you’ve been bored since we moved here, and I’d love to see you in action after only hearing about your tales of catching bad guys the past two years-”
“Really, I don’t think this would be the best idea,” Patrick insisted. “Since you’ve heard about all my accomplishments, Sherriff, I’m pretty sure that you’ve heard my methods leave something to be desired, that I really don’t play nice with others and that I am quite difficult to work with.”
“Yes, I did hear that,” Cho affirmed. “But I’d be willing to overlook those facts if you were willing to help bring Priscilla Bennett to justice.”
“I liked Priscilla,” Teresa put in. “She sat behind me at Mass, she was such a nice girl too, it’s terrible that somebody decided to take her life-”
“I’m interested to know who you think is responsible for taking her life, Cho,” Patrick interjected.
“Like I said, it looked like a crime of passion,” Cho answered slowly, “and she was out with her boyfriend last night, so if pressed right now to make a decision on a guilty party then I’d have to say he was guilty-”
“Ha!” Patrick laughed. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you really have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“And how do you know this?” Cho challenged, raising a dark eyebrow as he observed the man.
“Because the boyfriend is always the most obvious choice when a crime like this happens!” Patrick answered. “And the only evidence you have to support your ‘theory’ is they were out together last night.”
“Well, he was the last one to see her alive,” Cho said. “So, I’m obligated to look into him.”
Patrick waved his hand like he was pushing the thought aside. “Meh, he’s innocent until proven guilty. You know what, I think I will help you . . . but only long enough to prove Edward’s innocence, after that you’re on your own, Sherriff.”
“Fine,” Cho conceded, nodding slightly.
“I’ll just need to see the body,” Patrick said.
Suddenly, Cho looked very uncomfortable. “Oh. . . I’m afraid that isn’t possible. The coroner took the body to the city hours ago.”
“That’s fine,” Patrick replied. “I’ll just drive into the city and have a look at the body there.”
“In this weather?” Teresa asked, looking slightly startled as her eyes inadvertently darted to the picture window and out at the storm raging outside.
“Meh, I’ll be fine. . .”
“Not in that wreck you call a car!” Teresa protested.
“I won’t take the Citroën,” he promised.
“I’ll call the coroner’s office and tell them that I gave you permission to look at the body,” Cho said, raising to his feet and taking his cell phone out of its holder.
“I’m going to come with you,” Teresa said, getting to her feet and beginning to clear the tea things away.
Patrick frowned. “Wouldn’t you rather stay here where it’s dry and safe?”
“I’ve never seen you at work,” she replied smoothly. “I think it’ll be interesting.”
“I think you should just stay here with the dog,” Patrick said.
“We could bring Asta with us,” Teresa answered over her shoulder as she disappeared into the kitchen.
Patrick shook his head, knowing that there was no way on earth he would be able to convince her to stay home, she had already made her mind up to come with him.
Cho snapped his phone shut and put it away. “Okay, I talked to them. They said that it was fine if you came in and looked at the body, but you’re going to have to wait until tomorrow. I just got a message that they shut down the main road because of the storm.”
Patrick nodded. “I guess it’s for the best.”
“At least the murderer won’t be able to leave tonight,” Cho said.
“That is a good thing,” Patrick agreed, thinking maybe if he left early enough than he wouldn’t have to bring his wife along.
“Well, I’ll leave you to your evening then. Have a good night.”
“You too,” Patrick replied, leading him to the door and showing him out.