Fic Post: Unraveling [Shelter/Without a Trace crossover]
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Title: Unraveling, Chapter 10
Author: dragontatt
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Neither Shelter nor Without a Trace belong to me. No profit is being made from this work of fiction, and no disrespect is intended.
Word Count: 2971
It was stupid, and Shaun knew it was stupid, but he ran to the kitchen to look for Cody as soon as he got off the phone with Martin. His mom had made some of what she called ‘her good home-cooking’ for dinner- fried chicken, mashed potatoes and green beans. Not the usual kind of California food, especially for a woman born and bred here, but the kind she’d learned from her mother and her mother’s mother, who’d come from Alabama long ago and had brought their recipes with them. His mom’s cooking was so good that Cody was even willing to eat a form of chicken that wasn’t shaped like a nugget.
After a hurried dinner, Danny and Martin had taken off for the airport, and his mom had scooted Shaun out of the kitchen, saying she and Cody had a surprise for him. And when Shaun walked back in over an hour later, not only had Victoria, Larry and Cody cleaned the kitchen so he wouldn’t have to, they’d also been baking.
“Wow, something smells great in here, guys. What’s going on?”
“We made cookies!” Cody jumped off the kitchen stool and ran over, holding out a handful of chocolate chips cookies. “Look!”
Shaun smiled down at Cody - the corners of his mouth were smeared with chocolate and his jeans were covered in flour. Cody grinned up at him and offered Shaun a cookie.
“That looks great, kiddo. Did you make ‘em all by yourself?” He took a big bite of warm cookie and glanced over at his mom with a smile. He’d had plenty of her cookies growing up, and he remembered how much fun they were to make with her. He ruffled Cody’s blonde hair, tousling it even more than it usually was.
“Well, Grandma Vicky showed me how,” Cody confessed with a smile that was part bashful, part proud. “She said she used to make cookies with you, too.”
“I remember,” Shaun said.
He leaned over to kiss his mom lightly on the cheek. “I’m glad you’re here,” he whispered when she looked at him in surprise. Turning toward the kitchen table where Larry was sitting reading the paper, he said in a louder tone, “Both of you.”
Larry’s eyebrows went up a fraction but he merely nodded and said, “It’s no problem, Shaun.” He looked at Cody, who was cramming yet another cookie into his mouth and said, “But I think it’s about bath time for you, young man. Am I right?”
Cody glanced at Shaun through his eyelashes but the look he got in return was without mercy (even though the corner of Shaun’s mouth twitched ever so slightly) and with small, sad sigh, Cody headed for the hallway, closely followed by Larry.
Shaun’s mom let out a tiny laugh and sat on the kitchen stool with a small groan. “I’d forgotten how much energy it takes to watch a little boy all day. He’s such a dear, but he’s a handful.” She stretched her shoulders back a bit, and reached around to press her fingertips into the tight muscles of her lower back.
“Don’t I know it,” Shaun replied, leaning against the counter in front of the quietly humming dishwasher. “That’s one of the reasons I’m so glad you’re here, not to mention your cookies.” He reached out and snagged another one off the cooling rack, broke it in two and popped one half into his mouth eagerly.
“Those aren’t the only reasons,” his mom said softly, and something in the tone of her voice brought a grimace to Shaun’s face.
He ran a weary hand across his eyes and turned away before answering, “No, it’s not. God, I’m - ” his voice cracked and he paused before going on, “I am so scared for Zach, and Martin just called to tell me they think whoever took Zach was actually gonna kidnap Cody instead, and the thought of that absolutely terrifies me. I want to go try and help them find Zach, but if I do that I won’t be able to keep Cody safe - I don’t know what to do.”
“It’s a good thing you have me then,” his mom said. “Because I’m going to tell you what to do. You leave Cody to Larry and me, we’ll take him home with us tomorrow and you go off with Martin to help find Zach. You know how much we love Cody, and we’ll protect him like he was our own son, just like we would you.” There was a sad smile on her face as she looked at Shaun.
“I know you would, Mom, but what if whoever it is decides having Zach isn’t enough? I can’t put you in danger,” and his voice sounded hollow and full of despair.
“You think I’m stupid or what? I’m going to have Larry get some of his security team to come watch the house and us. No one’s going to get anywhere near Cody, I promise.” She nodded her head decisively in a familiar gesture and Shaun couldn’t help but be reassured - she’d never let him down yet.
---
Martin sat gingerly on the edge of a fragile-looking chair before reaching out to pick up his cup of coffee. He was in a small room not far from the apartment Alan and Jeanne lived in, a room the same size and shape as their living room, but a whole world away in both style and cleanliness.
The apartment manager shared one of the many identical units with his elderly mother, and it had been she who’d answered the door when Danny and Martin had knocked not long ago. She’d insisted they come in for coffee even before they’d even finished introducing themselves and Danny had accepted her invitation without consulting Martin. But as he inhaled the strong aroma of a well-made cup, so much better than what he’d gotten from the coffee maker at the station house this morning, he thought maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing, to sit here and make gentile small talk with an elderly woman who had no idea of what was going on outside these four tastefully decorated walls, and to let Danny question the landlord who hadn’t wanted to talk about any of his tenants in front of his beloved mother.
He settled himself a bit more fully onto the chair, now that he was fairly certain it wouldn’t collapse under him, and reached out to accept a small streusel-topped muffin proffered on a silver tray. As he took a small bite, carefully holding a napkin under it to catch any stray crumbs before they settled onto his tie, Mrs. Moore spoke up in soft voice that trembled a bit with age, “It’s a pity you couldn’t come this afternoon instead. I do so love a good tea. Coffee is good for mornings yes, but tea always seems so much more refined, don’t you agree?”
Martin glanced around the Moore apartment, at the highly polished table tops without so much as a hint of a fingerprint, and the silver coffee urn she’d brought out on a tray just for him, at the many framed photographs that covered the piano in the corner, and he nodded. “When I was younger I used to have tea every day with my grandmother, she was very old and she wasn’t in the best of health and she used to say that sometimes afternoon tea was the only thing worth getting out of bed for.”
Mrs. Moore beamed at him over the brim of her coffee cup - she took her coffee with almost as much sugar as Martin did. “She sounds like a very sensible woman. She must have enjoyed having tea with you very much.”
Martin gave a tiny shrug, and shook his head bashfully. “I don’t know. I didn’t really enjoy it and I think she knew that. You know how stubborn young boys can be, but now…well, I wish I’d spent more time with her, that’s all,” and his mouth twisted ruefully for a moment.
“I know that, dear. And so did she. Believe me, grandmothers are much smarter than you think. Mothers too, for that matter. Take my Jeffrey, for example.” She leaned forward to set her cup back into its saucer, nearly silent in her movements.
“Jeffrey likes to think that I don’t know what’s going on around me, in this neighborhood, in these apartments. He thinks all I know or care about in within these walls.” Here her hand floated up like a startled butterfly as she gestured to her surroundings before it settled back gently onto her knee. “But he’s wrong. I do know how much everything has changed around here - this used to be such a lovely neighborhood. But now there are drugs and gangs and prostitution going on all around us, in these very apartments.”
Her cheeks went pink for a moment, but it seemed more from anger than embarrassment. “I do know what it’s like out there, Mr. Fitzgerald, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“No. No, it doesn’t.” Martin smiled at her gently before going on, “Your son told us you rarely leave your apartment, so how do you know what’s going on?”
“There are a few old-timers left, widows who’ve refused to leave when their husbands died, couples who’ve stayed because of the rent control. True, most of the units are run down now, though poor Jeffrey does do the best he can. You’d be amazed at how fast a place like this can get run down by just a few bad tenants. We can’t legally refuse anyone you know, not just because you think they look like they might be trouble, and once they’re here it’s hard to evict them.” She sighed, a melancholy sound full of remembrance of times past.
“But some of the apartments are still as lovely as ever. And I invite all of my old friends for tea everyday. Not all of them come, of course, but enough. And you know how old ladies love to gossip when they get together,” she finished with a little laugh.
“Well maybe my partner and I should have asked you instead of your son. How much do you know about the couple in 15-A? Alan Grenier and Jeanne Taylor?” Martin finished his last bite of muffin regretfully and wiped his mouth with the napkin before placing it gently on the table next to his empty cup. He wanted to give the impression he was done, and not have her get distracted by asking him if he wanted anything else.
“Oh, that’s who you’re interested in? I might have known.” She gave a little frown of disapproval before going on, “Well, they’ve been here close to a year now, and at first they were model tenants. Paid their rent in full and on time - I still do the books, you know, even after these years - and we had no complaints. But a few months after they moved in all that changed.”
“How so?” Martin flipped open his notepad and clicked his pen.
“Well, I believe it was Mrs. Harris is 14-B who told me, she’s such a lovely woman, so friendly and I’m sure she would have tried to make friends with the new people in her building. She said the young man had been fired from his job for some reason and that’s when things changed. I guess he got a new job with a lower class of people, because we started getting noise complaints, drunken guests hanging out on the front stoop of the building at all hours, things like that. I do know they started associating with our tenants in 4-A, and believe you me, I knew that would lead to nothing but trouble. Sometimes there would be yelling. Jeffrey had to go over and talk to them a couple of times, but they would always calm down after he did so we never had to call the police on them.”
“So there wouldn’t be any official record of anything then?”
“Well now, I said we never called the police, I never said the police were never here about them. I don’t know who called them or what the outcome was, but Mrs. Harris said it looked like someone hit that poor woman. It’s a terrible thing.” She shook her head slowly.
“Yes, I know there was some incident but Miss Taylor swore it was an accident so there were never any charges filed. Do you know anything more about it than I do?” Martin gave Mrs. Moore what Danny always called his puppy dog look, head tilted just so, blue eyes wide with sincerity. He hated himself sometimes for it, but that looked always seemed to work the women he interviewed - and quite a few of the men.
“Oh dear, I’m not sure. I do know that Mrs. Harris thought he’d hit her on more than one occasion even though the police were only called that one time. She saw Jeanne going to work on a few times with big sunglasses on like she was hiding a black eye. She even spoke to her about it one day in the hall when she was sure that man was away for the evening, but Jeanne just told her to mind her own business.”
Mrs. Moore leaned forward to retrieve her coffee cup and took a slow sip, holding the cup close in both hands afterward like she was trying to warm herself. After a moment she spoke again, “That’s one thing I never would have stood for. Why, Jeffrey’s dad would have been out on his ass in a heartbeat if he’d ever even tried to hit me!”
Martin had had his mouth open, preparing to ask another question, but he stopped mid-word when what Mrs. Moore had actually said sank in. He stared at her in wide-eyed disbelief a moment - that word, no matter how completely appropriate, spat out with such venom by such a dainty looking old lady, shocked him into speechlessness briefly, but then he snickered. He tried valiantly to hold it in, but then his lip curled uncontrollably and Mrs. Moore blushed and then they were both laughing, long and loud.
~~~
They were still chuckling about it, and Mrs. Moore was still blushing, a few minutes later when the front door opened and the landlord came in, followed closely by a disheveled Danny. He had his jacket off and his sleeves were rolled up haphazardly. His tie was askew and there was an odd stain near the bottom of his formerly pristine dress shirt. His forehead was covered a shiny film of sweat and there was a clear look of annoyance on his face.
One glance, and even though Martin’s lip crooked again in amusement, he knew better than to question Danny about whatever he’d been doing. So instead he just thanked Mrs. Moore for her hospitality, refraining from bowing just a little as he gravely shook her hand to say good-bye.
Once back out in the car they’d managed to secure from Portland PD, Danny let out a long string of rapid Spanish that Martin had no chance of understanding. Luckily he knew Danny well enough that he didn’t even try; he just waited till the other man ran out of steam, knowing full well he would hear all about it in English, too.
“God, that man’s an idiot. I hope you had fun at your little tea party, because after all that I got nothing,” Danny spat abruptly.
“It was coffee actually, not tea. And I did have fun, thank you.” Martin grinned as Danny flashed him an evil glare from the passenger seat. “But where were you all that time if he didn’t tell you anything?”
“Helping him. You know, changing lightbulbs, unclogging toilets, fixing disposals, you name it, we did it. Remind me to never become a landlord, okay?” Danny plucked at the stained fabric of his shirt, pulling it away from his skin in disgust and Martin decided not to ask him exactly how it got there - or what it actually was.
“Lovely. But he couldn’t tell you anything about Jeanne or Alan?”
“Nothing we don’t already know. I learned lots of other stuff though. I learned the right way to snake a toilet, I learned to never trust a guy who’s got the crack of his ass showing when he says to go ahead and flip on the disposal cause it’s gotta be clear by now and I learned the name of every hooker and dealer in the complex. But nothing really useful about Alan or Jeanne.”
“Yeah? What about the people in 4-A?” Martin glanced at Danny as he slowed for a red light.
“Hmmm - yeah, that guy’s the biggest dealer in the complex, only reason Jeff doesn’t try harder to get him evicted is the guy doesn’t shit in his own pool, as he so quaintly put it. Why do you ask?”
“Well, one thing I learned at my little tea party, as you so quaintly put it, is Jeanne and Alan got to be really good friends with the occupants of 4-A while they were here.”
“Huh - well, maybe Tony changed his mind about not selling to his neighbors,” Danny said thoughtfully.
“Maybe. Or maybe they just got to be friends, and Alan repaid his friendship by robbing him. He’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer, after all.”
“True enough. Well, it sounds like we need to go ask Narcotics what they know about Alan’s neighbor. And even more important, when we get back to the station, I can change my shirt.” And for the first time since he got into the car, Danny sounded pleased.