by David Carner
John looked at Jessica, “Trip?”
Jessica nodded. Lionel Pennyworth Smothers III, or known as Trip, at his insistence not the agents’ choice, was the Director of the New York office. John sat down in the chair. He looked up at Jessica waiting for the next shoe to fall. Jessica sat on the couch across from him.
“Bruce?” John asked. Jessica nodded slowly. John slumped in the chair. Bruce had been the go to guy in the office before John arrived in the New York Office. Bruce had told John many times he was going to enjoy watching him go all the way back down the ladder. According to Bruce, John had stepped on everyone’s head on the way up the ladder. John hadn’t, he had just taken Bruce’s spot; a spot that was thought to have been arranged by Bruce’s father, a US senator. John knew differently, but that was a story for a different day.
“So if you don’t solve this one . . .” John began. Jessica was nodding as he began speaking. John just left it hanging.
“Bruce has convinced the brass in Washington that we aren’t complete agents. He’s convinced them we are only good as the team, and now, without you, we can’t be complete. He has completely convinced Washington that being on the team has hurt us. And Trip . . . well Trip can’t fight Washington and Bruce knows it.” Jessica said.
John leaned forward and put his head in his hands. Trip was a good guy; he just wasn’t one to stick his neck on the line. He wanted a safe, comfortable job. John was willing to take chances. Many had worked over the years, but some had backfired . . . very, very badly. If the higher-ups at Washington were leaning on him . . . well, why would Trip save them? For that matter, how could Trip save them? Actually there was no them right now, was there . . .
John raised his head up, “So you believe if I come back and help you, then you will have kept yourselves safe for now? Let’s say I do this, we figure it out and solve this case. What happens next time? This is a one-time reunion. We’re not putting the band back together.”
Jessica smiled. “John, help us and buy us a few months. After this case is over and you don’t want back in, I’ll drop it.” Chet shot Jessica a look and started to speak. She put her hand over his mouth and shushed him. Jessica continued to talk with her finger over Chet’s mouth which caused John to raise his eyebrows. “If you help us, win or lose, Trip has agreed to let you see the file.”
John was about to ask if her and Chet had become an item, but with this revelation John jumped to his feet.
“Jessica, Chet . . . do not play with me!!” John was trying hard to keep his composure. This was what he wanted, and more importantly, needed.
Jessica walked up to him and took both of his hands in hers. She looked straight into his eyes. He had seen that look once before. It was during the interrogation. “John, I need you to be you. You need to live again. You need to be that . . . “ She looked up at the ceiling, blew out a breath and continued, “you need to be that arrogant, cocky,” John’s grin was growing by the second and irritation was slowly spreading its way across Jessica’s face. “smug, narcissistic, jerk that can follow a 10 year old scent across three continents.” Jessica was staring hard into John’s eyes.
John broke the silence. “I know exactly what you are thinking.” Jessica raised an eyebrow. John continued. “You’re thinking, he’s a widower now, and he has been for three years, would it be inappropriate if I kiss him?”
Jessica threw down John’s hands, and stood up as straight as she could to look him in the eye. She spoke softly but very crisply. “You know I asked Sam once about your obsession with me.” John was taken aback. “She said I was the only woman she ever worried about. I told her then she had absolutely nothing to worry about. Nice to see you’re back . . . JERK!!”
Jessica turned to walk away, but John grabbed her arm. She slowly turned looking at the hand on her arm and then at John.
“Jessica . . . I’m sorry.” Irritation left Jessica’s face. “Jess . . . I . . . was so mad at you . . . you just did your job. I was so wrapped up . . . “
Jessica stopped him. “John, it’s okay. It wasn’t your fault. I was too proud to call you and see how you were. Look we’ve all made mistakes. Let’s just do what the three of us do best and crack this case. OK?”
John nodded. Jessica paused and then spoke, “There is one thing.” John looked at her. “You will be a consulting agent.” John nodded. “And if I hear you once refer to yourself as a murderer or having killed Sam during this case, I won’t miss the punch on purpose. Understand?”
John smiled and turned to head out the door. “Let’s head over to my office, and Jess, the answer is yes. . . .” Jessica looked confused. “It would be inappropriate for you to kiss me.” John turned and walked out. Chet hurried after him. Jessica smiled. Yeah, enough of him was back, for now. As much as she hated to admit it, she needed all of him back. She needed John back in the FBI or she and Chet were goners, but first things first. They had to solve this murder or there would be no second chance for any of them.
Chapter 9
The three of them entered John’s PI office. John sat down at his desk and Chet placed each picture of the victims on the evidence board John kept in the room. After all four pictures were up, he looked at John. John smiled and nodded. Chet placed the 5th picture on the board . . . Captain Jason Sparks, United States Army. Jessica stood back and smiled. John noticed.
“What?” John asked.
“It’s like you never left,” said Jessica. “You’re supposed to be a consultant and yet here you are running the show again.” John started to get up, and Jessica held up her hand. “No, don’t. I’m not mad. Chet and I had a week on this our way, you run it. Just remember when we get in the field you have little to no authority. In fact let’s go with no authority so there aren’t any questions down the road.”
John nodded. “Jessica, if I overstep my bounds, I have no worry that you will gladly put me in my place.” Jessica smiled and looked down. Chet looked away, uncomfortable. “Ok, time for me to ask a question to make everyone uncomfortable.” Chet looked quite confused. “Chet, Jessica, are you two currently a thing? Before you get all defensive, remember who I am and what I can do. I’m not that addled.”
Chet had turned 14 shades of red, and Jessica looked away. That’s when it clicked in John’s head; the conversation in his living room earlier with Chet. John looked out the window. He then stood up and walked over to it. He stared out the window and spoke quietly.
“I’m batting 1.000 right now aren’t I? I caused my wife’s death, almost cost you two your careers, and now you two can’t even have a relationship because of me. Dear God, what kind of broken am I?”
Jessica walked up behind him. She wanted to comfort him, but that was impossible. John only let one person in his entire life comfort him, and she was gone. Chet had tried to be his friend, and he was . . . as much as John would let him. Jessica straightened and started to speak but John looked at her. His eyes were dancing with mischief through the tears.
“So which is the lie? The one you told me today, or the one you told Chet when he left you?"
Admittedly John’s detective skills were a little rusty, but he flat missed the cut sign that Chet was flashing over and over.
“Excuse me!?!” Jessica exclaimed. “He left me!?!? Wait?? When I walked in earlier . . . He said I thought you were suicidal!?!? He was the one . . . “ Jessica realized what John had just done. “You JERK!!!” John was grinning like a Cheshire cat. He now had his answer. Chet thought John was suicidal. He also knew that Jessica had left Chet, and she left him because of Chet’s worry over him. John walked over to the board and faced both his partners.
“Look there was a time when no one thought we could crack what was supposed to be an impossible case. We did. We did it as a team with no secrets. Chet, I don’t know maybe I am suicidal." Chet nodded. John may have kept Chet away as much as possible, but he was still an FBI agent, and a good one. "Have I thought about it, yeah . . . but how mad would Sam be at me if I did?”
Chet looked at John with pity, but John waved it off.
“You want me to get through this? Then help me with this case, and you two promise to help me with one more, if . . . IF I want you to.” Chet nodded solemnly. Jessica looked uncomfortable.
“John, it’s easy to say all of this, but if Chet and I are kicked out of the FBI how can we help you with Sam’s case?” Jessica asked.
John straightened. For the first time in three years, John Fowler felt like himself. The cocky smirk that drove his teammates crazy, but the one that also let them know he was on the hunt, returned. Jessica smiled in spite of herself. For the first time since she and Chet had run into so much trouble at the bureau, things felt right. They were back. John reached over to the hat rack and put on what he called his “crime solving” hat.
“I’m going to help you solve this case and then we’re all going to get the redemption we deserve.”
Chapter 10
John looked at the board and began to study it. He realized he wasn’t getting anywhere. He sighed and turned to his partners.
“I guess it’s time I get my comeuppance. We probably need the big board at the bureau plus all of the files you have there.” Chet looked embarrassed and Jessica was studying her shoes. John was a little taken aback. “OK. Exactly how bad is it at the bureau?”
Jessica was playing with the top button on her shirt. She wet her lips before she spoke. “We were only given this case two days ago.” John’s mouth dropped. Jessica held up her hand. “It wasn’t our fault, it took almost a week for jurisdiction to be decided and it took a few days for everyone ELSE in the department to have their take on the case.” John had a bad feeling he knew where this was going. It was obvious they weren’t going to come right out and say, so he asked.
“You weren’t assigned this case, were you? You went to Trip and asked for it, and asked for me to take a run on it? That’s what this whole thing is!?!? You put your careers on the line!!! Admittedly not that it sounds like much is left of them at this point.” Both Chet and Jessica looked a little hurt with that statement. At this point John didn’t care. He was on a roll and couldn’t help himself. “You two numbskulls gambled everything that, A, you could get me to come back, and B, and this is the doozy, that I wasn’t so drunk or so rusty that I could solve a quadruple homicide that’s now over two weeks old!?!?
“I didn’t think you had been drinking.” Chet had been quiet during most of the exchanges that afternoon. He had taken about all he could though. Whether John wanted him or not, Chet was John’s friend. He had to do something to try to save John’s life. Chet figured his FBI career was over anyway. He was willing to gamble with what little he had left for one big win. John started to speak and Chet cut him off. John was a little surprised by the ferocity shown by his friend.
“John, for three years I’ve let you push me away, but no more. Look at the evidence in front of you.” John looked puzzled and glanced at the board. “No you idiot, not the board, YOU!!” John was very taken aback. “In a couple of hours, after not doing any real investigative work over the past three years, you have figured out almost every secret we have kept from you. John, your mind makes these connections that the rest of us can’t. So maybe you’re only 60 to 75% of the old John. Who cares!! Don’t you get it!?! You were, and still are, one of the best. Your best guess is better than absolute certainties of ¾ of the agents I have worked with!!”
John looked around the room. “You know I do work very hard on my investigations as a PI.” Chet looked on in irritation and Jessica started to snicker. “You know how hard it is on some of these stakeouts not to eat myself out of my pant size or break down and drink?” Chet was fighting back a smile, and Jessica’s snickering was louder. A slow grin was crossing John’s face. “And do you know how hard it is for me to not to lose my lunch on some of the photographs . . .”
Jessica cut him off, laughing. “Ok, you have worked hard.”
John stopped laughing and looked down. “No, I haven’t. I’ve just existed.” Jessica gave him an understanding smile. “Can I even get back in the building?” Jessica handed him a pass. “Ok, so we need to go there. Look, it’s late; let’s start fresh in the morning. Chet can you pull all the electronic files on these folks and print them off for me?” He raised his hand before Chet could say anything. “I know, I can look online, but sometimes with the printouts in my hands I can see the connections better.” Chet nodded. “So what time tomorrow?”
Jessica smiled; she had been waiting for this all day. “8 AM.” John looked hurt. “You can be up by then, right?” John knew he had been bested. He gave her a smile. Jessica waved at both men and walked out. John turned to his friend, but Chet spoke first.
“Before you say anything, John, she was a beautiful girl that I worshiped . . . but I don’t know if I loved her or if I even had the kind of feelings she needed me to have for her.”
John looked away. “I know, Chet. You kind of said it earlier.” Chet looked confused. “You said ‘do you know how hot she was?’ not ‘do you know how much I liked, or even loved, her?’.” Chet smiled and shook his head. He then grabbed John in a bear hug. John was taken aback and then gave the most awkward hug imaginable. Chet pulled away and slapped his friend on the arm.
“John, that’s why I didn’t give up on you; you’re the best. Even as narcissistic as you are,” John feigned shock, “you can’t admit how good you really are.” Chet paused. “Three things and I’ll leave.” John nodded. “The first, and most important, Sam’s death is not your fault.” John looked at the ground. “John I mean it. Solve this case and you can have the file. With that file you can find out exactly what I mean.” John looked up, face determined and nodded. “Second, she would want you to move on.” Chet held up his hand before John could speak. “Hear me out. I know you, you need to finish this, but Sam would want you to find someone else . . . even Jessica.” Both men smiled and Chet headed toward the door.
“Chet,” John called after him. “What was the third thing?”
Chet replied without missing a step, “That woman is crazy about you, and part of me honestly believes she only dated me to get closer to you.”
Chet continued out the door and was gone. John looked around the room and began to tidy up. He put all the papers and pictures back into their files. He looked around to make sure he hadn’t missed anything, packed up and headed out the door. As he walked back to his apartment and felt the chill in the February air, he thought about doing something different tonight. Maybe he would watch some college basketball. He hadn’t watched a ball game in a couple of years now. Maybe he’d get lucky and his Cats would be on. He stood on the sidewalk and looked up at the skyline. Maybe the healing was finally beginning. All he knew is for the first time in three plus years, he didn’t want a drink.
Chapter 11
As John entered the NY offices of the FBI all he could think about was how desperately he wanted a drink. He knew it would be bad, but he had no idea it would be . . . well, nothing could prepare him for this. And to think the morning had gone so well.
John woke up at 5 am, and made himself presentable. He then looked in the mirror and decided to go for dapper. The problem with that is the only good suit he still had was the suit he had worn to the funeral three years ago. After several minutes of deliberating, John decided to wear it. After all, he could very well be going to the burial of his FBI career if this didn’t work out right. John exited his apartment and headed back to what used to be his office.
When he walked up to security, there stood Fred. Fred’s jaw dropped and he ran over to hug John. John had seen Fred’s face every day he had worked in the building manning the security booth. After a few pleasantries John headed up to the old office. When he rounded the corner to the section of the offices his group used to occupy, he froze. There was no open space anymore, but a wall. On the door leading into the offices it read Bruce Cosby. John was stunned. He knew Bruce had stroke, but this was absolutely ridiculous. H
e went over to the offices Bruce and his cronies used to occupy, and he saw all of Bruce’s old cronies still had their offices there. Well if Bruce was over there, and his cronies were here . . . oh no.
John hurried to what was called the rookie room. When he looked in the doorway he saw what were obviously new recruits for the NY office. Well, all John knew is they had been there less than three years, because he knew none of them. John put his hand over his face. There was only one place his crew could be, the foxhole. John had renamed the basement the foxhole since most agents that found themselves there were dug in and seemingly fighting for their lives to stay in the FBI.
John was standing in the hall trying to decide what to do. He looked down the hall and saw a light on in Trip’s office. Well, he shouldn’t have a drink before meeting with the man in charge. John drew in a deep breath and headed for Trip’s office. Trip’s door was open. John went to knock on the door, and like always, Trip waved him in without ever looking up. It was spooky. John had to watch himself around Trip. Trip was over six foot tall and muscular. He was bald on the top of his head with short hair around the sides. He had been known wear gold wire-rimmed glasses. John always thought Trip looked strange in a suit and tie, but Trip seemed to thrive in his position as director in the New York offices. John walked in and Trip, while still reading a report, opened a drawer and pulled out an official pass with John’s picture on it. John took the pass, and clipped it to his coat.
