Where There is Wailing and Gnashing of Teeth

Chapter 17: Misery Aquaints a Man with Strange Bedside Fellows

Detective Dipstick. Any other time he'd kick Spencer's ass to his ears for cursing him with that label, in print no less. Loathe to accept the catchiness of it, it seemed every paper in Santa Barbara had latched on to the term and used it at least once. Threat of litigation aside, it had become the favored descriptive for even the more reputable rags.

But even with a liberal smattering of the hated moniker scattered throughout the article, his anger wasn't for the maligning of his person. Well, not entirely. It wasn't what motivated him snatching the paper from his desk to stalk toward's the Chief's office. Barely slowing enough to rap the doorframe, he withheld his charge just long enough for entrance to be granted.

Vick was at her desk, indulging in coffee still scalding hot given the steam rising from the cup.

“Did you see this crap?” A shake of the paper not enough punctuation, he threw said crap to her desk before crossing his arms. Another sip after his blunt rant, Vick swallowed before lifting the paper to glance over the headline.

“There was a copy on my doorstep this morning. No idea who left it there. The thing is, Detective, a crime hasn't been committed. Much as I'd like to put Sheffy away for her misuse of semicolons, she hasn't actually done anything illegal.”

Lassiter snorted. “I'm pretty sure I could detain her for suspected prostitution.”

The chief eyed him back. “I'm pretty sure you couldn't, tempting as that may be.”

Fingers tracing his handcuffs, Lassiter looked her way. “I'm serious.”

Vick, just as deadpan, glared. “So am I. Do I need to order you to stay away from her?”

Creaking his neck in an irritated twist, Carlton drew in a thick breath before folding his hands together. “Of course not, Chief.”

She turned back to her monitor, still sipping at her coffee.

“A search of her vehicle.” He rubbed his chin while Vick coughed against her fist. Probably swallowed wrong. “I've always though she's a little tweaked. Bet she has enough stash in her glove compartment to rate a charge of intent to distribute...”

“Detective...”

Dreams of tackling the red sheathed vamp to the concrete with a knee between blade sharp shoulders sizzled away from his inner vision – his Chief replacing the pleasant contemplation with one eyebrow tickling at her hairline. Carlton took her unspoken advice to dial it down and once more resumed a quiet posture of repose.

An almost smile on her face, Vick held out the paper to her subordinate. Holding back from the urge to snatch it from her fingers, Carlton thanked her, more or less, for her time before accepting her dismissal and heading back towards his desk. Nearly there, he detoured left, stopping next to his partner where she was typing at her computer.

“Can you believe this?” His need to wax fervently verbose having been unsatisfied with the Chief, he picked up where he'd left off with the person he should have gone to in the first place.