RELEASE TO OBLIVION
folder
G through L › Law & Order
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
11
Views:
3,360
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
G through L › Law & Order
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
11
Views:
3,360
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Law & Order, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
RELEASE TO OBLIVION
Chapter One
“Hey, Goren,” Alex Eames’ voice broke into Robert Goren’s thoughts. “Get that report done and I’ll let you buy me a margarita.”
Bobby’s head snapped up from his study of the arrestform on his desk. “I don’t like margaritas,” he mumbled.
Alex made an exasperated sound as she sat at her desk. “It’s not for you, remember?” she said. “It’s for me. You can have some of that expensive liquid fire you like.”
Bobby’s mind shed some of its fog and he found himself able to communicate with the outside world. “Sorry…and it’s not liquid fire. It’s Irish whiskey, and you of all people should be able to appreciate it.”
“Yea, well I didn’t get that gene. Didn’t get the one that makes an Irishman love “Danny Boy” either.” Alex gave him a sly smile over her paperwork. “Get to work. I’m thirsty.”
Bobby bent back to his work. “No,” he thought, “you got wonderful genes from two parents who were healthy and loved you and took care of you…” Bobby shook his head, and bent his head lower over his desk. “Damn,” he thought. “Where did that jump on the self pity express come from?” He looked over the desk to watch Alex signing a form.
“Eames.”
“H-m-m?” Her reply was garbled by the pen she was chewing.
“Sorry. I’d be happy to buy you a margarita—I’ll even let you buy me one.”
“Right. What a man will do for free booze.” She smiled at him, and he smiled back. Her smile comforted him: his reassured her.
It had been a rough case, one that required Bobby to set up a complicated ruse to catch a forger. The forger wasn’t all that dangerous, but his partner was an amoral and brutal man who had nothing to lose and a lot to gain by violence. The final moments of Bobby’s plan placed not only himself and Alex in a vulnerable position, but also several other cops and the forger’s children. . As they waited in the police van to make the final move in the high stakes chess match, the other officers clearly saw Bobby as calm and in control. Only Alex was aware of the muscles so tightly
coiled that she thought she could see them vibrating under Bobby’s carefully cut suit.
The case had ended well with no one hurt and the bad guys in jail, but the unrelenting tension and responsibility had left Bobby exhausted but too highly strung to rest. “Not a good combination,” Alex thought, and she desperately hoped for both their sakes that they might have a break before another case dropped on their desks. Both detectives had just crossed the last “t” and dotted the last “i” on their respective reports when Captain James Deakins approached their desks. Alex groaned, and Bobby visibly and audibly winced.
“I’m sorry,” Deakins said as he stood by their desks. “I don’t want to give you another case so soon after that last one, but this is a special request from the Chief of Detectives. Apparent murder-suicide, with one of the victims a bigwig at a think tank with connections to Washington. Personal friend of the mayor and the governor, and the FBI is already banging on the door..”
Alex watched Bobby’s eyes become darker as Deakins spoke. “Everything we hate in one neat package,” she commented.
“Who’s the other victim?” Bobby asked. He had apparently resigned himself to continuing his enforced sabbatical from sleep.
Deakins paused. “The other victim—likely the murder victim—is …unusual. She’s an employee of Marcella Torte.”
Alex raised an eyebrow. Bobby looked blank, and then across to Alex. It was rare for her to possess some obscure bit of knowledge that had bypassed him, and it was a moment before she realized he was looking to her
for an explanation.
“Marcella Torte,” Alex stated “was, when I was working in Vice, the owner of a club that catered to people with very specialized taste in their intimate relationships.”
Deakins repressed a smile as he watched Goren process
this information and the fact it came from Alex Eames.
“You mean..S and M? That sort of taste?” Bobby’s voice caught up to his racing mind.
“Yes,” Alex replied. She turned her attention to Deakins. “When I knew of her, though, Torte was really different—treated the people who worked for her well, was very discreet, even stood up to the mob. She actually called the police a few times when people tried to set up drug operations at the club and when her workers were threatened.”
“The killings took place at the club.” It was a statement from Bobby who had already entered the near trance like state when he seemed far away from the here and now.
“Just outside it, “ Deakins said, “Which is where you need to be headed. And,” he added as the two detectives prepared to leave, “the word is Marcella Torte is still astonishingly honest. And be careful on this one. It has the potential to get messy, and I don’t want anyone to loose their pension over it.”
END part 1
“Hey, Goren,” Alex Eames’ voice broke into Robert Goren’s thoughts. “Get that report done and I’ll let you buy me a margarita.”
Bobby’s head snapped up from his study of the arrestform on his desk. “I don’t like margaritas,” he mumbled.
Alex made an exasperated sound as she sat at her desk. “It’s not for you, remember?” she said. “It’s for me. You can have some of that expensive liquid fire you like.”
Bobby’s mind shed some of its fog and he found himself able to communicate with the outside world. “Sorry…and it’s not liquid fire. It’s Irish whiskey, and you of all people should be able to appreciate it.”
“Yea, well I didn’t get that gene. Didn’t get the one that makes an Irishman love “Danny Boy” either.” Alex gave him a sly smile over her paperwork. “Get to work. I’m thirsty.”
Bobby bent back to his work. “No,” he thought, “you got wonderful genes from two parents who were healthy and loved you and took care of you…” Bobby shook his head, and bent his head lower over his desk. “Damn,” he thought. “Where did that jump on the self pity express come from?” He looked over the desk to watch Alex signing a form.
“Eames.”
“H-m-m?” Her reply was garbled by the pen she was chewing.
“Sorry. I’d be happy to buy you a margarita—I’ll even let you buy me one.”
“Right. What a man will do for free booze.” She smiled at him, and he smiled back. Her smile comforted him: his reassured her.
It had been a rough case, one that required Bobby to set up a complicated ruse to catch a forger. The forger wasn’t all that dangerous, but his partner was an amoral and brutal man who had nothing to lose and a lot to gain by violence. The final moments of Bobby’s plan placed not only himself and Alex in a vulnerable position, but also several other cops and the forger’s children. . As they waited in the police van to make the final move in the high stakes chess match, the other officers clearly saw Bobby as calm and in control. Only Alex was aware of the muscles so tightly
coiled that she thought she could see them vibrating under Bobby’s carefully cut suit.
The case had ended well with no one hurt and the bad guys in jail, but the unrelenting tension and responsibility had left Bobby exhausted but too highly strung to rest. “Not a good combination,” Alex thought, and she desperately hoped for both their sakes that they might have a break before another case dropped on their desks. Both detectives had just crossed the last “t” and dotted the last “i” on their respective reports when Captain James Deakins approached their desks. Alex groaned, and Bobby visibly and audibly winced.
“I’m sorry,” Deakins said as he stood by their desks. “I don’t want to give you another case so soon after that last one, but this is a special request from the Chief of Detectives. Apparent murder-suicide, with one of the victims a bigwig at a think tank with connections to Washington. Personal friend of the mayor and the governor, and the FBI is already banging on the door..”
Alex watched Bobby’s eyes become darker as Deakins spoke. “Everything we hate in one neat package,” she commented.
“Who’s the other victim?” Bobby asked. He had apparently resigned himself to continuing his enforced sabbatical from sleep.
Deakins paused. “The other victim—likely the murder victim—is …unusual. She’s an employee of Marcella Torte.”
Alex raised an eyebrow. Bobby looked blank, and then across to Alex. It was rare for her to possess some obscure bit of knowledge that had bypassed him, and it was a moment before she realized he was looking to her
for an explanation.
“Marcella Torte,” Alex stated “was, when I was working in Vice, the owner of a club that catered to people with very specialized taste in their intimate relationships.”
Deakins repressed a smile as he watched Goren process
this information and the fact it came from Alex Eames.
“You mean..S and M? That sort of taste?” Bobby’s voice caught up to his racing mind.
“Yes,” Alex replied. She turned her attention to Deakins. “When I knew of her, though, Torte was really different—treated the people who worked for her well, was very discreet, even stood up to the mob. She actually called the police a few times when people tried to set up drug operations at the club and when her workers were threatened.”
“The killings took place at the club.” It was a statement from Bobby who had already entered the near trance like state when he seemed far away from the here and now.
“Just outside it, “ Deakins said, “Which is where you need to be headed. And,” he added as the two detectives prepared to leave, “the word is Marcella Torte is still astonishingly honest. And be careful on this one. It has the potential to get messy, and I don’t want anyone to loose their pension over it.”
END part 1