***Year Ten
***
Helena walked into her precinct the first day with a small box of things for her desk. She walked up to the detective's bullpen, forcing herself not to fuss with her new crew-cut hair or her dress pants and shirt. She smiled at the Civilian Aid sitting at the front desk. "I'm one of the new detectives, Nichols?"
She smiled. "I've got your desk cleaned off for you." She pointed at one back in the corner. "That okay with you?"
"It's perfect, thank you." She headed back that way, putting her box down on the desk. She looked at the folders, then picked two of them up and carried them inside the Captain's office. "Sir, Nichols, reporting as ordered," she said, snapping off a salute.
"Don't do that, detective," he said, glancing up at her. "You cut your hair?"
"I changed most of my wardrobe too." She walked in and closed the door. "Orders for you, sir." She handed them over. "One's my medical file just in case and the other's orders from on high." He tossed that one away. "I, um, meant the new Chief, but I agree with your disposition," she admitted with a small smirk.
He picked it up out of the trash, plucking the vegetables he had tossed out yesterday off the papers. He came to an invitation and had to pluck a tomato that had mayonnaise on it off it. She plucked out a tissue and pulled something out of her purse to wet it down with, cleaning that off. "Thanks. You're handy."
"I'm used to doing stuff for myself, and I did that once myself until I realized it was probably more politically correct if I attended something," she admitted.
He nodded. "Good." He glanced through the medical file. "You have thyroid problems?"
"Yes, sir, it comes and it goes. I'm on medicine for it and I gain and lose weight constantly. Right now I'm about forty pounds lighter than my all-time top record."
"Fine. As long as you can do the job?" She nodded. "Good." He looked at the orders. "Okay, it looks in order. Do you have your personnel file? I noticed no one could find it."
"I do," she admitted, going back to her box to dig it off the bottom of the box. She carried it in and handed it over. "It's not very thorough."
He shrugged. "I didn't expect it would be. Have you seen your cousin in IA yet?"
"Not yet. I've been staying away from her to keep her out of it and to make sure she's safe. Besides, I doubt she wanted to deal with me. No one ever told her I wasn't a dirty cop or that I didn't quit."
"She got your file when you tried to come back the first time," he sighed. "She did her own checking. She got quite mad and started to fix things down there. The people who made up evidence found themselves quite upset when she arrested them. She's in oversight now." He smirked at her shocked look. "She wanted to meet you for lunch sometime this week." He handed over the message he had been reading from. "I need to know if you can work with a partner." She shrugged. "You don't know?"
"I was a rookie beat cop when they sent me out. I've worked alongside others in the past, but I'm not sure." She considered it. "I'd like one at least for a while, just to help me readjust myself and my thinking. Just in case I slip up and start down old paths."
"I understand, detective. I did a very short stint undercover, a mere week and a half. I came out messed up for months and answered to my undercover name for a week."
"I decided it wasn't even worth it to try and go back to my actual name. No one but my cousin would recognize it anyway." She had told Jigen and he had held her while she had broken down finally. He had been very sweet to do so and listen to her ramble about her youth. Her boss coughed and she drew her attention back. "Sorry, sir. Just came off the vacation to straighten my ass out with my boyfriend."
"I understand," he said with another small smirk. "I heard he's a good thief."
"Jigen? Yeah, you could say that," she admitted with a grin. "He loves me. I adore the skinny little guy. He even puts up with the weight issues I have."
"Good. Sounds like he's still got some decency left." He stood up. "Let's go find you a desk."
"The Civilian Aid stuck me back in the corner, and that suits me just fine. There's no window there and I'm good."
"Fine. Come on, we'll introduce you around." He walked her out, nodding at the second new detective who was asking where his desk was. "We'll put you here," he said, pointing at a second clear desk. "Boys, these are Detectives Bord and Nichols," he said, pointing at first the Asian officer then at Helena. "They're new. Bord, what did you work before?"
"Under Homicide, sir." He put down his boxes and handed over his file. He shook Helena's hand, then looked harder at her. "I know you."
"Wonderful," she said with a grin. "Homicide?"
"It wasn't pretty but I got pretty good at it," he admitted. "They encouraged me to take my test so I'd quit bugging them with questions." He looked at his boss. "I also brought three cases that were sent to the wrong precinct from Downtown." He handed those over as well.
"New here and already on the ball, I like that," the Captain said lightly, smirking at him. "You'll do fine here. I won't put you with Nichols, but I will want you both to partner here with us so you get to know the neighborhoods."
"I did my rookie time locally," Helena offered. "I also live nearby."
"Still," he said, looking at her. "Peterson?" He sat up, shaking his head. "You're free, and I don't like giving choices."
"I don't work well with women, Captain. You said so yourself. I'll take Bord." He looked at Helena, then smirked. "Finally?"
"Finally," she agreed semi-happily.
The other detectives stared at her and one coughed. "I'm free for another week, sir. I'll take her," he said quietly. "I doubt she'll want one full time?" She shrugged. "Fine, then I can show her around and all that good stuff." He smiled at her. "Your reputation proceeds you."
"I'd hope you can get past it. That wasn't the real me."
"No, but the skills you showed were. You solved some damn hard cases out there without much to go on. Good work." She beamed and shifted a bit. "We'll get together later. Anything in there for me?"
"Let's see. We have one homeless boy who was killed."
"I want," Helena said immediately. "I work with them, they'll talk to me." He gave her a look then handed it over. "Still work with them," she agreed.
"Good. Someone with some compassion needs to." The Captain looked in the next folder. "I have a deli stickup?"
"I'll take it with the new kid," Peterson said, catching the folder when it was tossed. "Thanks. Bord, take the desk on this side." He lugged his boxes over there, sticking them on the clean top. "What did you bring in?"
"My desk stuff and my locker things. I couldn't find a new bag." He sat down and took the folder to look over. "I know him."
"Good," the Captain agreed. "And our last winner today is an odd one. Someone robbed a bookstore and took seventy books." He held it up. "Any takers?" No one said anything. "I doubt he'll shoot over books."
"He's probably a mental patient," Helena offered. "Or a frustrated library patron."
"Good, then you can figure that out," he said, handing it to her. "Where is the third person? She was supposed to be in today, but I don't see her."
"She was looking for a parking spot when I was walking in," Bord noted. "Sandra and I went through the Academy together, sir."
"Sandra?" Helena asked. Bord nodded, grinning at her. "Oh, man," she said, chuckling. The Captain gave her a 'tell us too' look. "Think a African-American French Poodle with full trim. That's Sandra." She went back to her desk, setting things up and settling in to look over the files. "No autopsy done yet." Her partner walked over to lean over her shoulder. "Can I move that filing cabinet?"
"If you could, it'd be a miracle. We haven't been able to."
She pulled something out of her drawer and squirted it underneath each corner, then laid a line along each side just beside the edge. "Help me rock it to let the gun oil under." He shrugged and helped, then it slid with a metallic squeal of protest. The second one, the one that had been bothering her, moved easier and everyone clapped. "Gun oil. Nearly as good as WD-40." She sat down, grinning at her partner. "Want to come with me when I talk to the ME?"
"No thanks. My stomach won't take autopsies. Do you know where?" She shook her head. "Then I'll show you where and you can go for it. Come back here after you're done and we'll go look at the bookstore." She nodded, grabbing her purse and following him out. "You don't use a waist holster?" She turned, letting him see the back holster. "Oh, you're one of those."
"It's more politically correct in most situations to hide the gun," she admitted. "I'd reach back there anyway." She fiddled with her badge. "Does it just go on the belt or on the belt and pants?"
"I put mine on a strap and on my belt," he admitted, letting her see. She nodded and clipped it around her belt, then bent the clip portion so it couldn't come free. "Good job." He let her into his car. "No bike?"
"No, I retired it when I came off the streets," she admitted. "I've got a car." She pointed at it. "Should I follow you?"
"Nah, that's okay, there's stuff I can do at headquarters while you're being interviewed by the doc." He got in to drive, watching as she buckled up. "I bet your boyfriend's a wild driver."
"Sometimes, but only when he's trying to get away from Inspector Zenigata." She grinned at him. "I really don't bite, Detective."
"My name's Paul, and I know that. You might not remember it, but I dealt with you a few times as a rookie. You were always very thorough and I'll expect the same thing from you now. I also want some warning before you have to shoot someone's tires out the window. Gunpowder blows back and it takes forever to get it out of cloth seats."
"Sure." She grinned and they were off on her first day of her real job. She walked into the coroner's office and smiled at the older man standing there. "Sir, I'm Nichols, I drew Rodney's case."
"Rodney?"
"Homeless little boy, stabbed in the chest?"
"Oh. That's his name. No one was sure. Come with me. Do you have a weak stomach?"
She snorted. "Not hardly. Actually, I've known him for a bit, sir. I help out with their enclave now and then." She followed him into the theater, patting the still head. "Poor thing. He had a fever when he was really little. He was always so weak. He never really got to play with the other kids."
"You do know him," he said appreciatively. "Do you know what the fever was?"
"Not really. I know it was really high, it started off seizures. Instead of calling the doctor that helps out down there, we sent him straight to the emergency room."
"County before it closed?"
"Yes, sir."
"You may call me Doc, the others do." He turned on the radio, letting the opera flow out quietly around them. "Sorry, but I do my best work to music. Are you sure you don't have a weak stomach?"
"Not in the least, doc." She pulled a rolling stool over, staying out of the way but close enough to see. "He was always so weak. He did mostly kitchen chores because he could sit and do those. He was good at chopping things. He only sliced himself a few times, and once he lost the very tip of his finger I think." The doctor nodded. "I do know that his fever was something that could have been contagious. I went to visit him and his mother while he was in there and he was in quarantine."
"Did he have his shots?"
"Yeah, I held him while he got them when he was five. He would have turned eleven this year. The fever hit him just before he turned seven, his birthday was in there." He made a note of it. "I know he had a few seizures now and then. I drove him to the hospital after the last set about eight or nine months ago."
"Very good memory, Detective Nichols." He looked at her. "I realize who you are now," he said gently.
"A lot of people do, doc, but I'm not like that really."
"I never thought you were superwoman," he noted. She snickered. "Really. The rookies who you gave cases to thought you might be bulletproof."
"No, I'm not. As the scar on my left upper chest proves." He glanced at her as he picked up a scalpel. "Sniper from across the street. I was found two days later by one of my friends. Barely clipped the top of my lung. The person who hired him wanted to make me suffer. He tried to do a lung shot so I'd die quickly and have only a little pain, but he was a bit too high because I had really thick windows. His boss watched him without him knowing and then darted him to slowly poison him so he couldn't come finish me off or save me."
"I remember that case," the coroner admitted. He made his first cut. "Interesting. The X- Ray showed a few broken bones but they appear to be postmortem." He turned on his tape recorder and repeated that. "Boy, according to witness, is nearly eleven. The stab wound on his chest is also postmortem."
"It is?" she asked, coming over to look. "How can you tell?"
"There's no blood evidence in it," he said patiently. He picked up something and handed it over. "We made a cast of it, detective."
She looked at the conical tip, then nodded. "I know what this was. Broken bones?"
He pointed at the X-Ray hanging up. "Broken spine, two ribs, both forearms, and one leg. Small fracture of the skull, no real evidence of trauma from the scans so far."
"Some of those tunnels are really small," she said thoughtfully. "The kids live in them. Most adults have to go onto their hands and knees to get into them. Just in case." He gave her a long look and she glanced back at him. "A few years back we had someone with MPD. One of his voices or alternate personalities or however you explain that disease away liked his daughter a bit too much. I caught the clue when I saw her, warned the elders of the enclave, and they caught him the next time. They moved all the kids back into the smaller tunnels so they'd have good warning and more safety in case another case of someone coming in to eliminate them happened." She shrugged. "It happens and they stopped it." She looked at him. "If the stab was postmortem, was it a natural death?"
"Quite possibly. I'll only know when I excise his brain. Give me two hours, detective. I like you, I'll rush this one." She smiled and gave him a pat on the back to not mess up his sterile environment too much as she walked out. He shook his head, sighing in defeat. "That poor girl. Nearly as bad off as you, little one." He turned up his radio with the carefully covered remote control and sang as he worked.
***
Helena sat down across from Big Momma, the head of the enclave. "Momma, I got given Rodney's case," she said, touching her hands. "It was a natural death, right?"
She nodded. "He had another seizure and died during it," she admitted. "His father panicked and had him removed instead of bringing him in. I told him it wasn't necessary but he is paranoid."
"In many ways I don't blame him," she admitted. She put a copy of the casting on the table. "There was only one problem that came up, that's why they thought it was a homicide at the time. Something with this shape was shoved into his chest after he died. Now, it's not real big so whoever did it wasn't trying very hard or was kinda little himself."
"Someone stabbed the boy after he died?" she asked, looking confused. She looked at the mold and then shook her head. "That's one of those writing stylus' the boys use on the inner walls as they plaster over the cracks in the pipes." She handed it back. "Who would do that?"
"Like I said, it was either someone who did it a bit and wasn't trying very hard or was kind of little," Helena repeated. "Frankly this worries me. If it was one of the kids, I'd guess that they were either practicing or seeing what it felt like for kicks." Her face hardened. "Now you're seeing the point?"
Momma nodded. "I do. It was probably his brother. He's been a bully most of the time to the younger children and I stopped him from hurting a cat that had wandered in. The poor thing was put down so it wouldn't suffer."
"Thank you." She patted her on the hand. "This sort of thing could mean that he'll start to turn into a serial killer. I don't want to alarm you, but I think the boy needs to be watched."
She nodded. "I will take this up with his father and the other elders. Thank you, Helena. Are you still helping us?"
"I'm not stopping just because they finally let me go back to my real life." Someone coughed as he walked up to them. "Momma, this is my current partner, Paul. Paul, this is Momma, she runs the homeless enclave in the tunnels. She takes in the orphans."
"Nice to meet you, ma'am," he said, shaking her hand as he sat down. "You can come to me if she's not available. I hold no onus against you for being unfortunate or forced to live that way."
She stared at him for a moment, then nodded. "Good enough. Helena, if you are, we're getting most everything we need but they never have jackets. Do you have anyone who could help you find some?"
"Give me approximate sizes and how many," she said simply. Momma smiled and stood up. "Momma, I thought you were well past childbearing," she said, staring at her extended stomach.
"So did I," she admitted, patting it.
"Momma, would you please get that checked out? It could be something really bad and we can't afford to lose you," Helena pleaded. "I'll even drive you over after work. Please?"
"I'll go this afternoon, I had planned on it anyway," she promised kindly. "I know it's probably not a baby. When they're this big, they're usually kicking by now." She smiled and walked off.
Helena shivered. "I hope she's okay."
"Even if it's a tumor, they can remove the uterus and she should be fine," Paul soothed, patting her on the hand. "You solve that one?"
"Yeah, they had to carry him out of the smaller children's sections and to do that they had to drag him part of the way. Some of those spaces are so small that even I have to crawl to get in there when I'm skinny. Someone Momma's size can't get into them." He looked impressed. "It was necessary to protect the kids."
"I have no doubt. They put a lot of thought into how they arranged themselves in there. It shows foresight that they were thinking about an expanded community." He smiled as someone joined them. "He wanted to talk to you, I hope you didn't mind."
"Not in the least. Morning, detective."
"It's nice to be able to say it back," he said, smiling as he sat down. "My boss wanted me to nag you about coming to us instead of the one you went to. He said he needs more good clearers who don't cause property damage." She beamed at him and shook her head. "No? Not even for a promise of a real partner?"
"It'd be a really long commute and I live in these neighborhoods," she told him. "I wouldn't mind if I did get transferred in, but I won't put in for one."
"That's fine," he agreed, smirking at her. "I told him you'd say that. You're a homey person. You take care of home first and always then the rest of us. I'm glad they finally released you." He noticed her staring at someone and coughed. "Problems?"
"Not really." She caught the man's eye and he stopped, then waved and turned the other direction. "He's stalking her. That's her ex," she pointed at the redhead he had been following. "Marcy, did you take him back again?"
"No." She turned, then ran over to give her a hug. "Ooh, and a badge! Finally! We heard, sweetie, the girls at the club will be so happy for you!" She kissed her gently then left to go share this news. Her ex stalking her wasn't anything new, she was used to it.
Helena pulled out a tissue and blotted the excess lipstick off her lips. "Sorry, I used to work with her. She's a great dancer."
Both detectives smirked at her. "Obviously," her partner agreed. "So, Vecchio, you satisfied?"
"Yup," he agreed. "Anytime you want, the offer stands. My boss said he adores you."
"I liked your boss. He was great when I had to hand him cases. Tell him I'll keep that in mind and that if he ever needs me, all he has to do is call. I'm good with that."
Vecchio nodded and stood up. "I will. I've got to grab lunch before I head back. You stay safe, Helena." He grinned and patted her on the hand. "Kick your boyfriend for me too for shooting out my tire on the way out of town. Tell him I'll be getting him for that."
"Sure, Ray. Next time I see him." He nodded and walked away. "You know him?"
"I do know him. He's a great guy," Paul agreed.
"Yeah, he's one of the few people I trust to watch my cats when I have to go out of town. It gets him away from the madhouse that is his mother's house." She stood up. "Come on, we should get back. I have a mad booklover to find."
"Did you eat?"
"I'll grab a burger on my way back," she promised, leading the way to her car. "Did you drive?"
"No, I heard Vecchio was looking for you so I let him drive me over. I figured I'd get a lift back." She nodded and let him into her sedan. "This is nice," he noted, stroking the wood dash. "Classy. A Olds too. Powerful?"
"Very. I made it to Mexico in about a day and a half last time." She started the engine and backed out slowly, heading back through a drive-in place he suggested. She was even good and got a salad.
***
Helena walked in at the end of her first day and kissed Jigen gently. He had stayed for today but the others had left. "Tell Lupin that Vecchio wants to hurt him for shooting out his tires. I got a very sweet offer from the kittysitter to join the 27th, and I busted my first two cases, earning me five new ones," she said happily.
"Good work," Jigen praised, hugging her. "Why do you taste like French dressing?"
"Lunch was a salad at my desk as I typed up reports. We still use typewriters."
"Oh, damn," he said, shaking his head. "No wonder the cops never catch us." He grinned at her and tweaked her chin. "Want to go out to dinner or eat the meager food I managed to find and cook?"
"You cook very well. I doubt it's meager and it'll be wonderful. Let me shower and change?" He nodded and let her do that while he set the table. She came down in a more formal dress, one of her old stripper outfits that was mostly see-through. He moaned and kissed her again. "I take it you like it?" she teased, playing with his tie.
"I do like it. One of these days I'll have to get you to dance for me again."
"If I ever have to go back there, I'll call and warn you so you can fly in for the night," she promised, smiling up at him. "You'll be the mark I tease."
"Keep that up and dinner will burn," he noted, going to take everything off burners and out of the oven, then he led her to the couch, so he could christen that one. He hadn't had her on this couch yet.