by Cindy Combs
Okuma warned, "You're treading a very thin line, Detective."
Jim grinned, "See you at the station, boys."
Obie gave them a wave. "You know, for the first time, I actually prefer going to the police station."
* * *
Major Crimes
"So this is where you work," Obie commented as Blair and Jim led him into the bullpen. Ice pack on one eye, he studied the busy area.
"And right over here is my desk," Blair pointed as he directed his uncle to the chair beside it.
Jim covertly studied the older man. He had noticed that the slight limp from the night before had grown more pronounced after the robbery incident. Whether it was due to fatigue or stress, Jim wasn't sure. However, his instincts were telling him there was much more to the Feds' interest than a simple murder, and somehow the elder Sandburg was innocently in the middle of it.
"So, is this the holy terror that stole your bed, Jim?" Brown asked with a wide grin. He indicated Brody with his hand, who was in the process of sniffing the corner of Taggart's desk.
"Yep," Jim replied straight-faced. He scooped up the mutt and dropped him into Brown's arms.
Undaunted, the cheerful detective caught the dog and held him up for inspection. Brody made an attempt to lick his nose. "Hey, he's a cutie."
"So, do me a favor and take the 'cutie' for a walk," Jim suggested.
With a grin, Henri tucked the wiggling dog under his arm. "No problem."
Jim smirked and took one more step towards his desk before another voice interrupted, "Good day, Jim. Anything interesting happening?"
Jim turned to find Inspector Megan Connor standing behind him. "Just double vision in the Sandburg Zone," he replied.
Before Megan could ask him what he meant, Simon stepped out of his office. "I just heard about the smoke bomb and the attempted robbery at that New Age Fair. Tell me Blair's uncle wasn't in the middle of it."
"As a matter of fact, sir, he was," Jim replied with resignation, waving a hand in the Sandburgs' direction.
"Does this have anything to do with the Feds asking about him?"
"Yes, it does."
"Damn." Simon shook his head. "Isn't one of them enough?"
"What Feds?" Megan asked, feeling like she was a couple of steps behind.
"Oh, some Feds claim Blair's uncle was in the area of a murder last night," Jim explained. "We don't know what murder they're talking about, or why it would be a federal case."
"We might be able to narrow down the possibilities," Simon pointed out.
Jim nodded. "True. We know Obie made only two stops in Cascade before he arrived at my place--the gas station and the wharf. The murder had to have been at one of those two places, most likely the wharf from the questions."
Looking thoughtful, Megan glanced back at Blair's desk. "I wonder if it's the murders down by the wharves that has Interpol breathing down Homicides' necks."
Both Jim and Simon turned to stare at Megan in disbelief. "Interpol?" Simon repeated. "Just who on earth got whacked last night?"
"And what's the connection to a guy trying to rip off Obie's homemade wares?" Jim added.
Simon leaned towards Megan. "Connor, do a little digging down in Homicide and see what you can find out."
"Yes, sir," Megan replied.
"Hey, Megan!" Blair waved her over. "Could you do me a favor and find the sketch artist?"
"No worries, Sandy," Megan replied, stepping closer to the two Sandburgs. She smiled at the older man who bore a noticeable resemblance to Blair.
After a nudge from Obie, Blair add, "Oh, Megan, this is my uncle, Obediah Sandburg. Obie, this is Inspector Megan Connor. She's an exchange officer from Australia."
Obie bounced to his feet, dropping the ice pack on Blair's desk. "An honor to meet you," he greeted with a bow as he took her hand.
Megan smiled, charmed in spite of herself. "Nice to meet you too, Mr. Sandburg."
"Just Obie, please."
"Obie." Megan nodded and turned to search for the artist.
As soon as he judged her far enough away, Blair punched Obie in the arm. "Hey, back off."
Obie was still watching her. "Oh, so you've gone out?"
"NO!" Blair rolled his eyes. "She's a friend and a colleague."
"Ah, so you haven't gotten up the nerve to ask her yet."
"Obediah!" Blair hissed. At Obie's raised eyebrow, Blair confessed, "Okay, no, I haven't asked her out yet. I have to work with her, you know."
"Too bad," Obie sighed. "I bet that one's a great kisser."
Blair blushed. "I'm not telling."
"OOOOOOoooo."
Before the elder Sandburg could pry out any details, Jim and Simon walked over. "Obie, this is our Captain, Simon Banks. Sir, this is Obediah Sandburg."
Simon and Obediah quickly appraised each other as they shook hands. Then Simon gestured to his office. "Dr. Sandburg, why don't we discuss all this in private."
A few minutes later, Obie had told Blair and his co-workers everything that had happened. Thoughtfully, Jim asked, "You said he struck you, pardon the expression, as looking upset. Did he say anything that might give us an idea why?"
Slightly surprised that a cop would ask such an intelligent question, Obie paused a moment. "Well, he did ask if there was a crystal that would help with financial problems, like diamonds."
"I thought you only sold semi-precious stones?" Blair questioned.
"I do. I told him if I were selling diamonds, I certainly wouldn't be at that fair. We laughed, and continued talking. He seemed to me a nice, yet troubled, young man."
"Yeah, a nice young man who punched you," Blair pointed out sternly.
"But he did apologize first," Obie replied unperturbed.
"So, was the diamond comment just idle conversation, or something more," Jim thought out loud.
"And what does it have to do with Feds and a murder last night," Simon added. He glanced up. "Speaking of whom..."
Okuma and Keane had entered Major Crimes and were heading their way. Knocking sharply, they entered the captain's office without waiting for a response. As Ellison and Banks glared at them, they focused on Dr. Sandburg. The older Fed stood by the wall, fixing Obie with a burning stare. The younger Fed had taken a seat across from Obie uninvited. Keane ignored the detectives and the waiting doctor for several minutes, taking great interest in whatever was written on his own notepad. Finally, he chuckled, amused at something in the notes. "I will say, Dr. Sandburg, you brightened our lab tech's afternoon. There's certainly a, shall we say, colorful variety of items in your--what do you call them?"
"Meditation kits. When you boys are done 'identifying my colorful items', I'd like them back."
"I'm told it will take a day just to identify them all. I'm curious, what were you doing peddling roots and crystals at a small-time fair? I was under the impression you lost your license?"
"Misunderstanding. I cleared it up." Obie crossed his arms. "But you'd know that already."
"So why aren't you practicing medicine at a nice hospital somewhere in the U.S.? It would certainly be safer, wouldn't it?"
"I like to travel."
"I can see that. And you certainly get around. Africa, South America, Russia..." Keane read from his notes. "Tell me, have you ever been to Vienna? France? Monte Carlo? Australia?"
Obie shook his head. "There's not a lot of call for humanitarian relief in those areas."
"No, I expect not. You must meet quite a few people, traveling as much as you do. But you say you've never seen the young man who tried to rob you before today? Last night on the wharf, maybe?"
"Nope. I told you. I saw Gene, I saw three guys off-loading lumber from a truck, I saw a security guard. If there was anyone else on the wharf, I didn't see them."
"No one around your van? On the other piers?"
"I think there might have been a homeless gentleman relieving himself on a stack of pallets three piers down, does that help you?"
Okuma glowered. Kea
ne ignored the barb. "So, if you couldn't place the thief at the wharf and you hadn't met him before this morning, what do you think he wanted with your little boxes?"
"Beats me. He seemed like a nice, yet troubled, young man."
Okuma snorted in disbelief. "A 'nice young man' who is not only a thief but a murderer."
"He didn't strike me as a murderer," Obie insisted.
Okuma pounced on the opening. "And you can spot a murderer, Dr. Sandburg? Was part of your medical training in mind-reading?"
"I can usually read people."
Okuma gave the older man a sneer. Obie was beginning to think this Fed had only three facial expressions: sneer, glower, and smirk. "Right, just like you 'read' the rebels in Rwanda when they ruined your knee?" Jim noticed Blair shoot up straight in his chair, eyes wide. He could also hear the catch in Obie's breathing and the slight quickening of his pulse at the remark.
Obie, however, maintained a poker face for the Feds. "I couldn't leave until the baby was delivered and got caught--but I knew they were murderers."
Blair shifted in his chair, eyes troubled and focused inward. Jim spared him a glance, remembering Blair had mentioned a whole different story concerning Obie's knee injury. Apparently, obfuscating about what really happened on the job to the family was another Sandburg trait.
Wrapped up in his own thoughts, Jim nearly missed it as Obie continued, "I can 'read', for example, that you've been in the field so long you think everyone is a bad guy. You've been fanning that cynical little flame ever since you got your arm broken--let me guess, you were DEA before the FBI and were guest of some little drug czar for about three weeks? Enough time to be sure that bone knitted crooked. Sorry, I couldn't help but notice."
"Obediah..." Blair hissed a warning.
"You hate your work, you hate the pay, you hate the hours, but you believe in what you do enough to stay in the field. Now, sweet face over there..." Obie indicated Keane, but spoke to Okuma, "...he loves his work. Give him five years more and he'll be a director. Probably yours. Must drive you crazy knowing that. Under those circumstances, I'd be walking around looking like someone just stuck my hand in a bear trap and was trying hard not to scream, too."
Simon held his breath as Okuma's face went to white to red to white again. Now I know where Blair's tough talk comes from. Blair himself was pale as he exchanged stunned looks with Keane. Behind his own poker face, Jim's muscles tensed, prepared to physically intervene if the Fed tried to kill Blair's uncle.
Then a sound escaped from Okuma's lips. When more chuckles joined the first small sound, everyone else in the room relaxed.
"Thank you for your cooperation, Dr. Sandburg. If you remember anything more, I expect a phone call." Okuma nodded to Keane, who gave Obie a dirty look as they left.
Megan waited until after the FBI had left, then slipped into the room. "I have the information you wanted, Captain."
"What did you find out?" Simon asked as he leaned back in his chair and pulled out a cigar.
Megan slid two photos onto the table. "Two men were murdered last night on the wharves. One was Alberto Acampos. He worked for the Dante crime family in Chicago as an appraiser."
"That explains the FBI involvement," Blair pointed out as he studied the photo.
"The other was an Australian by the name of Dein Mallory. He and his American cousin are international high tech jewel thieves, which is why Interpol is interested. Apparently, they have made some impressive scores all over the world. Just that no one has been able to prove anything."
"Do either of these men look familiar?" Jim asked Obie.
The older man shook his head. "I've never seen them before."
"What about the cousin?" Simon asked.
"His name is Taylor Mallory. From what Rodgers in Homicide said, Dein brought him into the business due to his high tech and mechanical skills. He's suppose to be very good with gadgets." Megan caught Ellison's eye. "By the way, Jim, I ran into Lynn Crowder. They were able to pull some prints off the kit. On a hunch, I had them compare the younger Mallory's prints. They match." She slid another photo across the table.
"That's him," Obie exclaimed.
Jim agreed with a nod. "Yep, that's definitely our little pugilist."
Everyone gathered to study the photo. "But why would a jewel thief be interested in one of your meditation kits?" Blair questioned, turning to his uncle. "Those semi-precious stones wouldn't even be a blip on this guy's screen."
Obie looked thoughtful. "No wonder that kid looked upset, losing his cousin just last night. I wonder if he has any other family?"
"Uncle Obediah."
"Right." Obie blinked, then remembered, "You know, the whole time we were talking, we had been slowly working our way through each of the kits, discussing crystals and incense. And the kits he grabbed were the ones we hadn't reached yet."
"And your van was near where his cousin was killed." Blair snapped his fingers. "What if Dein Mallory managed to slip something inside before he died? You could easily hide something in those kits."
"Maybe something that was worth killing him and Acampos for?" Megan suggested.
"Diamonds," Jim inserted slowly, nodding his head. "Taylor asked you about diamonds, probably fishing to see if you had already found them."
"But why hit me?" Obie asked. "We probably would have looked through every one of those boxes if the smoke alarm hadn't gone off."
"Something spooked him," Jim pointed out. "He must have planted that smoke device just in case he needed a diversion."
"Okuma and Keane," Blair declared with a sweep of his hand. "They were on their way to the booth. No way Taylor could have mistaken them for anything BUT Feds."
"The records I saw did indicate that neither Mallory is known to carry guns," Megan interjected. "They seem to follow the old code of gentlemen thieves. So it's likely young Taylor would pick a non-lethal means to aid his escape."
"Using a high tech gadget," Blair nodded. "Definitely sounds like this guy's MO."
"So whatever everyone is looking for may still be in one of those boxes." Simon tapped his unlighted cigar against his finger. "Too bad the Feds have them."
"But if there were diamonds in them, you'd think the Feds would have found them already," Jim pointed out.
Obie shrugged. "True, but they don't have all of them." As the members of Major Crimes turned, the older man smiled. "I don't display every one I have. There are several in the van that are either half done, need fixing, or lack a coat of finish."
"All right," Blair exclaimed with a wide grin.
Banks held back his own smile and immediately took charge. "Okay, Sandburg, Connor, I want you to escort Dr. Sandburg back to the loft. It should be safe and comfortable enough for you to start looking through those kits." Simon, too, had noticed the fatigue on the elder Sandburg's face. "Ellison, go talk with your contacts in Interpol and the FBI, and see if you can dig up exactly what got the elder Mallory killed. More than likely, it's still spooking the younger one." The Captain leveled a stare at his people. "All we have so far is conjecture. I'd like facts as to why we have Feds up the wazoo by end of the day."
* * *
Obie's van
They had driven five minutes in silence after leaving the precinct. Blair being quiet was, Obie knew, like seeing the sun set in the North when in Alaska. He knew something was bugging the kid, and he had a good idea what. "It wasn't a lie, Blair."
"You told me and Naomi your knee was smashed in a fight over a woman." Blair was staring out the front window, deliberately not looking at his uncle.
"It was."
"C'mon, Obie! Getting your knee crushed by Rwandan rebels sounds like a hell of a lot more than someone jealous over a tryst with a woman."
Blair had learned that what his uncle did was risky the night he was six years old. He'd been awakened by the sound of his mom yelling. There didn't seem to be anyone else talking in the house, though. Blair had climbed out of bed and crept to the kitchen, caref
ul not to let her know he was there. He found Naomi yelling something about Uncle Obie into the phone. He hadn't pieced it together until much later that Naomi had freaked when a group of doctors near where Obie worked was killed. She had been on the phone that night trying to get the names of who had died, to find out what had happened to her brother. When Obie had returned, very much alive, they'd had a huge argument over whether he should return to his work or not.
"I never actually said 'tryst'..." Obie objected.
"Don't do that! Don't obfuscate, don't B.S. me, don't change the subject! I want to know what happened. The truth this time."
Obie hesitated. There were some things about his work in the Corps and in Doctors Without Borders that he'd long ago decided not to share with his sister or his nephew. Rwanda was near the top of that list. But Blair wasn't letting this go.
"What I told you was true, Blair. I was on my way to catch a plane out of Rwanda. There was a nice family near one of the villages who put me up for a couple nights. I didn't know who they were. The wife, Nysa was her name I think, was eight months pregnant. Malnourished. I was worried she would lose the baby, so I stayed a few days longer. And she went into early labor. I ended up having to do an emergency c-section right there. God, it was a nightmare. We were too far from any hospitals, the hut was filthy, I didn't have the right supplies. I was halfway through when the rebels came looking for Nysa and her husband." Obie gripped the steering wheel tighter, hoping he could hide his shudder from Blair. "I couldn't run, couldn't let her bleed to death, couldn't let the baby die. The rebels took me prisoner, too. Friend of my enemy is my enemy kind of thing, I guess."
"How long?"
"Two weeks."
Blair's tone was softer, some of the anger abated. "Why didn't you tell us?"
Obie laughed. "Tell Mount Saint Naomi? Are you kidding? I'd have been safer with the rebels." Blair stared back, waiting. "I didn't tell you or Naomi because I couldn't change who I was. I knew it was dangerous, and I accepted the risks because I was doing something I believed in. I didn't want you both to worry every time I took a job that something like that was going to happen to me."
