Age challenge by Prudence Dearly
Title: New Tricks
Author: prudence_dearly
Word count: 2200
Summary: Age has its privileges.
A/N: Fluff and bickering. With many thanks to akamine_chan for beta.
The lot was dark and dingy, the only light coming from the streetlights and a few halogen lights outside the office building. It had rained earlier and there were oil-slick puddles here and there. Grit crunched slightly under a carefully placed foot.
“Which one is it?” hissed a voice.
“The license plate number finishes with…” there was a rustle, as of paper being pulled from a pocket. “3-2… uh, I think that’s another 3.”
“Gimme that.”
There were a few moments while the bit of paper was snatched away, and peered at. Then, “Dammit, I can’t see anything.”
A white light blinked on, illuminating the bit of notebook paper in Ray Vecchio’s hand. Ray Kowalski held his cellphone above the paper and said, “So, what is it?”
“3-2-8,” said Vecchio. He pocketed the note. “Switch that off before someone sees us.”
“There’s no one here.”
“We can’t be sure of that, Ray,” came Fraser’s voice from somewhere nearby. The two Rays looked around for him, squinting into the darkness. Fraser emerged from beside the front wheel of one of the trucks. His white hair seemed to shine faintly.
“Licking wheels, Benny?” asked Vecchio.
Fraser ignored him. “I’ve found the truck, but it appears to be empty. Perhaps we would have better luck with the storage units,” he said, and started leading the way, keeping to the shadows and hopping neatly over and around the puddles. The Rays trudged after him.
“My knee hurts,” muttered Kowalski.
“Should’ve brought your cane,” replied Vecchio. His hands were plunged deeply into his pockets and his chin was tucked into his scarf. He sniffed. “This is gonna go right to my chest,” he observed.
“You can’t take a walking cane on a bust,” Kowalski was saying. “Only if it’s one of them sword canes.”
“We’re not having this conversation again.”
Fraser halted abruptly and turned back to them. “Shh!” he exclaimed.
They all stopped, and listened. Nothing. Just the distant sound of traffic, blocks away.
“Told you no one was here,” said Vecchio.
“Nevertheless,” said Fraser sharply, “it would be wise to keep our voices down.”
His companions breathed a mutual sigh as Fraser started off again.
“I don’t see why we couldn’t have just come down here during the day,” Vecchio said.
“I can’t imagine why three sexagenarians should wander onto the lot of a haulage company asking questions,” Fraser replied. “I suppose it’s faintly conceivable that one of us might have business to conduct, but I very much doubt it. In my experience, very few people expect a man in his late sixties to do that sort of thing.” He reached the end of the row of parked trucks, and peered out at the three cinder-block storage units that sat at the back of the lot. “We’re supposed to be at home doing jigsaw puzzles and dandling our grandchildren - ” he seemed to be on a roll, and didn’t hear the whispered conversation that had broken out behind him.
“Sexagenarian, I like that.”
“Are you kidding? Are you twelve?”
“Hey, I may be old, but I’m still a guy, I still got urges.”
“You’re kidding yourself, Kowalski.”
“Did he just say dandling?”
“Fraser!”
“ - and while I appreciate the concern, I really don’t think - what? Sorry, Ray, what did you say?”
“I was just wondering if we were going to stand here in this puddle all night listening to you badmouthing our golden years, or whether we were going to do this thing.”
“Ah. Of course. Let’s, as you say, do this thing.”
They pattered across the open ground as quickly as possibly, Kowalski hobbling along last. When they fetched up against the wall beside the door to the first unit he rubbed a hand over his knee, and wished he’d brought the damned cane. If anyone got smart he could’ve clubbed them with it.
“Which building?” asked Vecchio.
“Well,” said Fraser, in a tone of voice they both knew.
“Aww, Benny,” whined Vecchio, at the same time as Kowalski said, “Dammit, Frase.”
“Oh, calm down,” Fraser said. “There are only three units and we might strike it lucky.” He pulled a small black wallet out of his coat pocket, unzipped it, and started working on the door’s lock. This was a skill he’d picked up just after he retired from the RCMP, when he was volunteering at the juvenile offenders’ centre. “I am always ready to learn,” he’d told Ray Vecchio over the phone, and Vecchio had been able to picture that bright, disingenuous smile, and grinned to himself.
“So, uh, Fraser,” said Kowalski, coming round to the other side of the door and leaning against the jamb, watching Fraser work. “Is there… something on your mind? You seem a little distracted.”
“Something on my mind?” repeated Fraser, glancing up at him. “I don’t think so, Ray.”
Behind him, Vecchio cocked an eyebrow at Kowalski.
“You realise nothing we see here is going to be admissable in court. We’re breaking and entering.”
“Technically, what we’ve done is commit illegal entry,” Fraser said, and it was truly bizarre, hearing that statement roll off his tongue so casually. “We haven’t actually broken anything. But don’t worry.” He paused to tap a gloved finger to the side of his nose. “I have a plan.”
“You’re okay with this, then,” said Kowalski, waving a hand vaguely at the property they had illegally entered.
“Well, Ray, twenty or thirty years ago, back in our crime-fighting prime, I would have happily spent days infiltrating and observing, possibly taking up some kind of undercover position and gaining the trust of the management, eventually gathering evidence carefully and by the book and presenting it to the legal authorities in accordance with regulations - however, I’m afraid that at my stage of life, I simply I don’t have the time, and I am willing - ” he gave the lock pick a twist, “to take all of that as read.”
Vecchio sniffed again, and tried to hunch down further into his coat. Fraser had shown up on their doorstep that afternoon, bright-eyed and spry as ever. He was wrapped up in a thick jacket that looked as if it would survive an avalanche, and carried a small duffel bag. He was on a case, he’d announced cheerfully, and would appreciate their help.
Vecchio wondered if there would ever be a time that he or Kowalski could resist doing as Fraser asked. They could’ve been at home in their living room right now, drinking a hot toddy and watching a game.
“How is Laurie, anyway?” asked Kowalski.
“She’s fine, thank you for asking.”
“Enjoying being a sergeant?”
“So it seems. She’s a fine officer.” He allowed the tiniest pause before adding, “She received a commendation recently.”
“Jeeze, you can taste the smugness, can’t you?” put in Vecchio, laughing. “Just because our kid turned out no good.”
“Will you shut up?!” said Kowalski. “He’s a friggin’ DA. Sooner or later you’re gonna give him an inferiority complex.”
“Yeah, yeah. He’s got lawyer in his blood, it’s like vampires or something. That’s what we get for having Stella be surrogate. How’s that lock coming along?” he added.
“Almost…” murmured Fraser. Something clicked, and he straightened up with a slight grunt. “Shall we?”
He led the way inside, pushing the door shut behind them. They were in total darkness.
“Benny?” said Vecchio.
“Yes, Ray?”
“Could you turn the light on please?”
“I can’t seem to find it.”
“For Christ’s sake.” Kowalski’s phone lit up again, creating a tiny glowing patch of light. He held it out in front of him and searched the walls by the door for the light switch. “Seriously, we go breaking and entering and nobody even brings a flashlight?”
“I brought lock picks,” said Fraser, a touch defensively.
“I’m not even gonna ask where you get them from,” Kowalski said. He found the switch and flipped it. The room was stacked with crates. The three men heaved a collective sigh.
“What are we looking for, exactly?” asked Vecchio, as they wandered through the narrow aisles.
“Look for a Canadian flag,” Fraser said. “The goods are bought cheaply up in the Northern Territories, under a government subsidy, and then packed into boxes of Canadian flatware and brought across the border to be distributed here in the United States.”
“And Laurie said she’d nail these guys if you brought her some evidence.”
“That’s correct.”
“What was she thinking?” Vecchio asked this of Kowalski, who gave him a tired look, then waved a hand at Fraser, who was prowling around eagerly.
Kowalski leaned up against a crate and patted down his pockets. It was a habit he’d never managed to drop, even years after he’d given up smoking. He found a stick of gum and folded it into his mouth. “Laurie wouldn’t use illegally-obtained evidence,” he said. “You taught her better than that.”
“I didn’t actually tell Laurie that that’s what I was doing here,” Fraser said. “It’s perfectly natural that I should come and visit you. And if a packet of photographs should happen to find its way to her desk sometime next week, then she could treat that as an anonmyous tip-off. Perhaps from a disgruntled employee.”
“That’s your clever plan? You don’t think she might see through that?”
“I think it’s likely to get the job done,” replied Fraser. “Let’s check the next unit.”
“We could’ve been at home right now,” groused Vecchio to Kowalski as they traipsed after Fraser while he relocked the first padlocked door and started on the second.
“Oh, like you’re not enjoying this.” Kowalski hooked an arm through Vecchio’s and leaned against him.
“I didn’t realise your knee was troubling you so much more these days,” said Fraser conversationally as he set about the second lock.
“It’s just on cold days,” Kowalski said quickly.
“It’s the stairs,” correction Vecchio. “I keep telling him we should move. We don’t need the big house any more.”
“I am not moving,” said Kowalski, in a warning tone. “Don’t bring this up with me again.”
“I showed him a brochure for a retirement community,” explained Vecchio. Fraser’s eyebrows went up. “It’s just like a condo, but with an elevator and we wouldn’t have a yard to look after - plus there’s a pool.”
“It’s a rest home,” said Kowalski.
“It’s a retirement community,” replied Vecchio, his voice rising.
“It’s a rest home!”
“So what, so it’s a rest home!” yelled Ray back at him. “Maybe I need a rest! Jesus, who wouldn’t, living with you?”
“I understand completely, Ray,” said Fraser, apparently applying the sentiment equally to both of them, “but this probably isn’t the time or the place.” He opened the door and, unlinking their arms, his friends followed him inside.
It only took a few minutes to find the boxes they were looking for. They were stacked against the wall, the Canadian maple leaf proudly displayed. Fraser tucked his lock picks away and pulled out a digital camera and started snapping away. Vecchio went to find a crowbar to open a box. When it was open, Kowalski brushed the packing straw out of the way.
“Oh my God,” he said suddenly, digging out a cardboard box. Fraser took another photo and Kowalski held the item up to Vecchio’s face. It read, Senna Tea. Gets things moving. Its cheerful green packaging conjured up memories of a particulary uncomfortable conversation with Frannie a few months ago.
“This is a laxative!” squawked Vecchio. “We’re busting someone for smuggling laxatives!”
“Actually, there is a flourishing black market for herbal remedies of this sort,” said Fraser calmly, taking the box from Kowalski, who was grinning from ear to ear and shaking his head.
“When you said drugs I thought you were talking about heroin or PCP or something!” said Vecchio. “This is pathetic. We bust a drug-smuggling ring and it’s not even decent drugs, it’s bran muffins. We’re so past it.”
“Speak for yourself, Vecchio,” said Kowalski promptly, helping Fraser wrestle the lid back on the crate.
“Fuck you, Stanley.”
“Only if you can get it up, old man.”
“Hey, I’ve never had a problem in that department,” Vecchio shot back.
“That was one time!” yelled Kowalski, pointing a finger menacingly in Vecchio’s face.
“Ray, Ray,” interposed Fraser abruptly. They shut up and looked at him. “I believe we have everything we need, so shall we get going?”
Outside, the rain had started up again. It drifted slowly across the lot, muffling the sounds of footsteps moving towards the gap in the chainlink fence.
“I swear, if I get a chest infection, you’re both gonna hear about it.”
“Stop bitching. You sound like an old man.”
“No kidding.”
“I think we’ve all proved tonight that age is no impediment to ability.”
“Okay, Frase, that’s it. What happened? Someone offer to carry your groceries again?”
There was a short, crowded silence.
“My granddaughter’s new boyfriend called me ‘Gramps.’”
“That asshole!”
“I hope you sucker-punched him!”
“Certainly not. I… Well, I did need to clean my rifle at about that time.” There was laughter. “His face was quite a picture.”
“I bet. My feet are wet. Let’s go home.”
Author: prudence_dearly
Word count: 2200
Summary: Age has its privileges.
A/N: Fluff and bickering. With many thanks to akamine_chan for beta.
The lot was dark and dingy, the only light coming from the streetlights and a few halogen lights outside the office building. It had rained earlier and there were oil-slick puddles here and there. Grit crunched slightly under a carefully placed foot.
“Which one is it?” hissed a voice.
“The license plate number finishes with…” there was a rustle, as of paper being pulled from a pocket. “3-2… uh, I think that’s another 3.”
“Gimme that.”
There were a few moments while the bit of paper was snatched away, and peered at. Then, “Dammit, I can’t see anything.”
A white light blinked on, illuminating the bit of notebook paper in Ray Vecchio’s hand. Ray Kowalski held his cellphone above the paper and said, “So, what is it?”
“3-2-8,” said Vecchio. He pocketed the note. “Switch that off before someone sees us.”
“There’s no one here.”
“We can’t be sure of that, Ray,” came Fraser’s voice from somewhere nearby. The two Rays looked around for him, squinting into the darkness. Fraser emerged from beside the front wheel of one of the trucks. His white hair seemed to shine faintly.
“Licking wheels, Benny?” asked Vecchio.
Fraser ignored him. “I’ve found the truck, but it appears to be empty. Perhaps we would have better luck with the storage units,” he said, and started leading the way, keeping to the shadows and hopping neatly over and around the puddles. The Rays trudged after him.
“My knee hurts,” muttered Kowalski.
“Should’ve brought your cane,” replied Vecchio. His hands were plunged deeply into his pockets and his chin was tucked into his scarf. He sniffed. “This is gonna go right to my chest,” he observed.
“You can’t take a walking cane on a bust,” Kowalski was saying. “Only if it’s one of them sword canes.”
“We’re not having this conversation again.”
Fraser halted abruptly and turned back to them. “Shh!” he exclaimed.
They all stopped, and listened. Nothing. Just the distant sound of traffic, blocks away.
“Told you no one was here,” said Vecchio.
“Nevertheless,” said Fraser sharply, “it would be wise to keep our voices down.”
His companions breathed a mutual sigh as Fraser started off again.
“I don’t see why we couldn’t have just come down here during the day,” Vecchio said.
“I can’t imagine why three sexagenarians should wander onto the lot of a haulage company asking questions,” Fraser replied. “I suppose it’s faintly conceivable that one of us might have business to conduct, but I very much doubt it. In my experience, very few people expect a man in his late sixties to do that sort of thing.” He reached the end of the row of parked trucks, and peered out at the three cinder-block storage units that sat at the back of the lot. “We’re supposed to be at home doing jigsaw puzzles and dandling our grandchildren - ” he seemed to be on a roll, and didn’t hear the whispered conversation that had broken out behind him.
“Sexagenarian, I like that.”
“Are you kidding? Are you twelve?”
“Hey, I may be old, but I’m still a guy, I still got urges.”
“You’re kidding yourself, Kowalski.”
“Did he just say dandling?”
“Fraser!”
“ - and while I appreciate the concern, I really don’t think - what? Sorry, Ray, what did you say?”
“I was just wondering if we were going to stand here in this puddle all night listening to you badmouthing our golden years, or whether we were going to do this thing.”
“Ah. Of course. Let’s, as you say, do this thing.”
They pattered across the open ground as quickly as possibly, Kowalski hobbling along last. When they fetched up against the wall beside the door to the first unit he rubbed a hand over his knee, and wished he’d brought the damned cane. If anyone got smart he could’ve clubbed them with it.
“Which building?” asked Vecchio.
“Well,” said Fraser, in a tone of voice they both knew.
“Aww, Benny,” whined Vecchio, at the same time as Kowalski said, “Dammit, Frase.”
“Oh, calm down,” Fraser said. “There are only three units and we might strike it lucky.” He pulled a small black wallet out of his coat pocket, unzipped it, and started working on the door’s lock. This was a skill he’d picked up just after he retired from the RCMP, when he was volunteering at the juvenile offenders’ centre. “I am always ready to learn,” he’d told Ray Vecchio over the phone, and Vecchio had been able to picture that bright, disingenuous smile, and grinned to himself.
“So, uh, Fraser,” said Kowalski, coming round to the other side of the door and leaning against the jamb, watching Fraser work. “Is there… something on your mind? You seem a little distracted.”
“Something on my mind?” repeated Fraser, glancing up at him. “I don’t think so, Ray.”
Behind him, Vecchio cocked an eyebrow at Kowalski.
“You realise nothing we see here is going to be admissable in court. We’re breaking and entering.”
“Technically, what we’ve done is commit illegal entry,” Fraser said, and it was truly bizarre, hearing that statement roll off his tongue so casually. “We haven’t actually broken anything. But don’t worry.” He paused to tap a gloved finger to the side of his nose. “I have a plan.”
“You’re okay with this, then,” said Kowalski, waving a hand vaguely at the property they had illegally entered.
“Well, Ray, twenty or thirty years ago, back in our crime-fighting prime, I would have happily spent days infiltrating and observing, possibly taking up some kind of undercover position and gaining the trust of the management, eventually gathering evidence carefully and by the book and presenting it to the legal authorities in accordance with regulations - however, I’m afraid that at my stage of life, I simply I don’t have the time, and I am willing - ” he gave the lock pick a twist, “to take all of that as read.”
Vecchio sniffed again, and tried to hunch down further into his coat. Fraser had shown up on their doorstep that afternoon, bright-eyed and spry as ever. He was wrapped up in a thick jacket that looked as if it would survive an avalanche, and carried a small duffel bag. He was on a case, he’d announced cheerfully, and would appreciate their help.
Vecchio wondered if there would ever be a time that he or Kowalski could resist doing as Fraser asked. They could’ve been at home in their living room right now, drinking a hot toddy and watching a game.
“How is Laurie, anyway?” asked Kowalski.
“She’s fine, thank you for asking.”
“Enjoying being a sergeant?”
“So it seems. She’s a fine officer.” He allowed the tiniest pause before adding, “She received a commendation recently.”
“Jeeze, you can taste the smugness, can’t you?” put in Vecchio, laughing. “Just because our kid turned out no good.”
“Will you shut up?!” said Kowalski. “He’s a friggin’ DA. Sooner or later you’re gonna give him an inferiority complex.”
“Yeah, yeah. He’s got lawyer in his blood, it’s like vampires or something. That’s what we get for having Stella be surrogate. How’s that lock coming along?” he added.
“Almost…” murmured Fraser. Something clicked, and he straightened up with a slight grunt. “Shall we?”
He led the way inside, pushing the door shut behind them. They were in total darkness.
“Benny?” said Vecchio.
“Yes, Ray?”
“Could you turn the light on please?”
“I can’t seem to find it.”
“For Christ’s sake.” Kowalski’s phone lit up again, creating a tiny glowing patch of light. He held it out in front of him and searched the walls by the door for the light switch. “Seriously, we go breaking and entering and nobody even brings a flashlight?”
“I brought lock picks,” said Fraser, a touch defensively.
“I’m not even gonna ask where you get them from,” Kowalski said. He found the switch and flipped it. The room was stacked with crates. The three men heaved a collective sigh.
“What are we looking for, exactly?” asked Vecchio, as they wandered through the narrow aisles.
“Look for a Canadian flag,” Fraser said. “The goods are bought cheaply up in the Northern Territories, under a government subsidy, and then packed into boxes of Canadian flatware and brought across the border to be distributed here in the United States.”
“And Laurie said she’d nail these guys if you brought her some evidence.”
“That’s correct.”
“What was she thinking?” Vecchio asked this of Kowalski, who gave him a tired look, then waved a hand at Fraser, who was prowling around eagerly.
Kowalski leaned up against a crate and patted down his pockets. It was a habit he’d never managed to drop, even years after he’d given up smoking. He found a stick of gum and folded it into his mouth. “Laurie wouldn’t use illegally-obtained evidence,” he said. “You taught her better than that.”
“I didn’t actually tell Laurie that that’s what I was doing here,” Fraser said. “It’s perfectly natural that I should come and visit you. And if a packet of photographs should happen to find its way to her desk sometime next week, then she could treat that as an anonmyous tip-off. Perhaps from a disgruntled employee.”
“That’s your clever plan? You don’t think she might see through that?”
“I think it’s likely to get the job done,” replied Fraser. “Let’s check the next unit.”
“We could’ve been at home right now,” groused Vecchio to Kowalski as they traipsed after Fraser while he relocked the first padlocked door and started on the second.
“Oh, like you’re not enjoying this.” Kowalski hooked an arm through Vecchio’s and leaned against him.
“I didn’t realise your knee was troubling you so much more these days,” said Fraser conversationally as he set about the second lock.
“It’s just on cold days,” Kowalski said quickly.
“It’s the stairs,” correction Vecchio. “I keep telling him we should move. We don’t need the big house any more.”
“I am not moving,” said Kowalski, in a warning tone. “Don’t bring this up with me again.”
“I showed him a brochure for a retirement community,” explained Vecchio. Fraser’s eyebrows went up. “It’s just like a condo, but with an elevator and we wouldn’t have a yard to look after - plus there’s a pool.”
“It’s a rest home,” said Kowalski.
“It’s a retirement community,” replied Vecchio, his voice rising.
“It’s a rest home!”
“So what, so it’s a rest home!” yelled Ray back at him. “Maybe I need a rest! Jesus, who wouldn’t, living with you?”
“I understand completely, Ray,” said Fraser, apparently applying the sentiment equally to both of them, “but this probably isn’t the time or the place.” He opened the door and, unlinking their arms, his friends followed him inside.
It only took a few minutes to find the boxes they were looking for. They were stacked against the wall, the Canadian maple leaf proudly displayed. Fraser tucked his lock picks away and pulled out a digital camera and started snapping away. Vecchio went to find a crowbar to open a box. When it was open, Kowalski brushed the packing straw out of the way.
“Oh my God,” he said suddenly, digging out a cardboard box. Fraser took another photo and Kowalski held the item up to Vecchio’s face. It read, Senna Tea. Gets things moving. Its cheerful green packaging conjured up memories of a particulary uncomfortable conversation with Frannie a few months ago.
“This is a laxative!” squawked Vecchio. “We’re busting someone for smuggling laxatives!”
“Actually, there is a flourishing black market for herbal remedies of this sort,” said Fraser calmly, taking the box from Kowalski, who was grinning from ear to ear and shaking his head.
“When you said drugs I thought you were talking about heroin or PCP or something!” said Vecchio. “This is pathetic. We bust a drug-smuggling ring and it’s not even decent drugs, it’s bran muffins. We’re so past it.”
“Speak for yourself, Vecchio,” said Kowalski promptly, helping Fraser wrestle the lid back on the crate.
“Fuck you, Stanley.”
“Only if you can get it up, old man.”
“Hey, I’ve never had a problem in that department,” Vecchio shot back.
“That was one time!” yelled Kowalski, pointing a finger menacingly in Vecchio’s face.
“Ray, Ray,” interposed Fraser abruptly. They shut up and looked at him. “I believe we have everything we need, so shall we get going?”
Outside, the rain had started up again. It drifted slowly across the lot, muffling the sounds of footsteps moving towards the gap in the chainlink fence.
“I swear, if I get a chest infection, you’re both gonna hear about it.”
“Stop bitching. You sound like an old man.”
“No kidding.”
“I think we’ve all proved tonight that age is no impediment to ability.”
“Okay, Frase, that’s it. What happened? Someone offer to carry your groceries again?”
There was a short, crowded silence.
“My granddaughter’s new boyfriend called me ‘Gramps.’”
“That asshole!”
“I hope you sucker-punched him!”
“Certainly not. I… Well, I did need to clean my rifle at about that time.” There was laughter. “His face was quite a picture.”
“I bet. My feet are wet. Let’s go home.”