Another week, another Taming the Muse (
tamingthemuse) prompt. WEEK NINE - WORDCOUNT 510
Title: Untitled
Fandom: The Sentinel
Prompt: #225 - Quaestor
Warnings:
Rating: G
Pairing: J/B
Summary: Just another day, just another case.
Disclaimer: blahblahblah not mine blahblahblah ya'll know the drill blahblahblah nobody reads this anyways blahblahblah
The name on the door was some weird Latin word that set Sandburg off on a half hour lecture on the financial systems of early Rome as compared to the tribesmen of southeast Asia. All Jim knew was that it meant the guy took care of the Fraternity’s money, and that was as good a motive as any for why he ended up rotting alongside the highway.
The fact that the Frat was so broke they were about to be evicted from their House was another good point in his favor, but Sandburg had bet him bathroom cleaning for a month that it was the brother, so here they were, about to inspect the poor kid’s room. Again.
“Why the brother, Chief?” Jim interjected into a sentence about why beads and shells could stand in for gold only temporarily. “The Frat President had loads of motive, and he was obviously lying about not having seen…” Jim glanced at his notes, “Quaestor TJ Russ on the day he disappeared.”
“Simple. The Frat reported him missing the next morning. If they had had anything to do with it, they could easily have put off reporting it for days, what with the way guys come and go around here. The brother mysteriously comes to town for a job interview on the very day his brother disappeared and doesn’t even bother to visit?” Sandburg rolled his eyes, “Look at these pictures, Jim,” he motioned to a corkboard pinned above the dead man’s desk, “Three pictures of his family. Two more of him and his brother. Out of maybe twenty pictures. Nobody has that many pictures of family on their wall by second year. Maybe first year, when they’re homesick. Maybe grad students who are old enough to be nostalgic.” Sandburg waved his hands around and almost knocked over a reading lamp, “The Russ’ were close. No way would Robert have come into town from two states away and not visited.”
Jim glanced around the room and nodded, then frowned and took a deep breath, “Sex.”
Blair’s eyebrow’s shot up, “Um… Sorry, man, you lost me.”
“This room smells like sex.”
Blair glanced at the bed, then back, “It’s a Frat house. I think every room will smell like sex.”
“Not as many as you’d think, Chief. Most of the rooms smell like somebody jerks off in them regularly, but only a couple smell like there were partners. But this room…” Jim watched as Blair focused and laid his hand on Jim’s arm, “smells different.”
“Different how? Is there more than one partner? Extra smells, missing smells?” Blair’s voice was level and soothing, and Jim expanded his search.
“The loft!”
That got him two blinks, “Lost me again, big guy.”
“It smells like the loft. Sex, but no women. Russ was gay.” He couldn’t resist pressing a quick kiss to Blair’s curls.
“Robert said the family was very devout. If he found out about it, he would have confronted TJ. The Russ’ had pamphlets for a ‘homosexuality curing’ camp in their kitchen. Maybe TJ refused to go.” Blair flashed him a quick glance through his lashes.
“Maybe, Chief. We’d better go talk to the brother.”
“Don’t forget to scrub the grout with a toothbrush, big guy.”
“Don’t push your luck.”