Chapter Text
Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me and I'm not making any profit.
Notes: This was written for the Sentinel_Thursday Challenge #41: Games. Concept and story by Caro. Contributions by Andi, Daychilde, Fletcher, Goldsea, Lyonesse, Marion, pamh, Bluewolf, WoD. Betaed by Bluewolf and Goldsea
May 2004
Hidden within the story are the names of 123 games. How many can you find? A complete list can be found in the final chapter.
"See, Jim, ever since the dawn of civilization, men have played games. There are all these games that are found in the most unexpected places. For example..."
Jim sighed, a feeling of doom rising as he realized he couldn't escape another Sandburg lecture. And all because he'd made some lame joke about how playing cops and robbers made kids think being a criminal would be fun.
"Ellison! Sandburg!" Ah. Saved by the bell. Jim jumped up to dart into Simon's office, followed more sedately by Blair.
"There's been a murder at the Van Smythe residence up in Wyndham Heights. The Mayor's not only a friend of the family but such a 'messy and inconvenient crime', with its attendant 'distasteful publicity', among Cascade's wealthy, may put campaign contributions in jeopardy. So of course he requested that I assign my best men to the case."
Jim groaned in protest. "Can't you assign your other best men? We're about to break the burglary ring." A series of clever burglaries among the wealthier homes in Cascade was nothing Major Crimes would have handled, until a young man had come home early, apparently surprised the thieves, and been murdered. Sandburg had a theory....
"Jim, who's the boss here?"
"You are, Simon."
"And when Simon says, 'Jump', you say...?"
"How high?"
Simon grinned ferociously. "That's right. You have to follow the leader just like I do. Joel and Megan can handle the burglary/murder case. Now go and solve it quickly, gentlemen. I don't need this aggravation from the Mayor."
* * * * *
Blair braced himself against the dashboard and offered up another prayer for their safe arrival. Jim was obviously feeling a bit pissed, and driving faster than usual. With Jim's reflexes, Blair generally didn't worry too much, but...
"Red light!"
"Green light, Sandburg. Relax." Jim drove through the suddenly changed light and looked over at Blair. "You're not normally this much of a wimp."
Blair bit back the cross words that leaped to mind and replied in a dignified manner, "I think Simon would be pretty upset if we happened to die before we solved the murder."
Jim chuckled. "The Mayor would be aching to kick the can on Simon's ass."
Blair snickered at the image. "I'd pay good money to see that. Oh hey, can you hand me my pack, man?"
Jim reached behind the seats and pulled up the backpack with difficulty. "What have you got in here? Bricks?"
"A little bit of everything. You never know what'll come in handy. But the serious weight is some exams a fellow TA asked me to go over. She thinks there's some chance of major cheating; somebody selling the answers. We normally expect a little cheating and catch it easily. Students will always sneak in cheatsheets, copy off a classmate's answers, minor cribbage like that. But this is going to be a major scandal, so she wants a second opinion before she goes to the Dean."
"Damn, that's rough," Jim commiserated. He made a left turn and then they were there at the crime scene.
The Van Smythes' house was actually a mansion and lit up for the party.
"Oh my God," said Blair. "The Van Smythes are loaded."
Jim held up his police badge for the gate security and got waved through. "No need to be too impressed, Chief. I've been to parties like this with my dad and I've seen behind the glitz. The rich may think their money makes them king of the hill, but it's pretty much just a charade. Money does not buy happiness. Come on."
Jim parked his truck, and they walked up the long drive and rang the doorbell. The butler answered. "Good evening, gentlemen. May I see your invitation cards?"
Jim pulled out his police badge. "My invitation is right here."
"Ah yes, Mrs. Van Smythe is expecting you. She told me to escort you to her immediately."
"She'll have to wait."
The butler tutted with disapproval as Jim waved away the coat checkers trying to relieve them of their light jackets and turned towards the uniformed policewoman hovering in the foyer. Blair smiled apologetically at the butler and hurried after Jim.
The officer greeted Jim with relief. Policewoman Ana Gram looked distinctly uncomfortable in the opulent surroundings.
"What's the situation?" Jim asked.
"We got the call about an hour ago, got here and cordoned off the body. My partner, Tom Jenga, is up there now. The Coroner and Forensics are both working the scene. I was about to start taking witness statements, but I've had some problems getting cooperation here. The guests keep calling the Mayor and the Chief of Police and complaining about the interruption to their party."
They traded commiserating looks. Jim said, "We'll take a look at the body and start interviewing the residents and staff. You go ahead with the guests. Unless somebody's got blood all over them or behaves suspiciously, once you've got statements and addresses, they're free to leave. I'll send Jenga down to help you."
Gram nodded. "Hi, Sandburg," she said, smiling warmly at the anthropologist as she passed by him heading off to the ballroom area.
"Hey, Ana. How're you doing?" Blair watched her walk away. He turned back to find Jim staring at him, quizzically. "What?"
Jim shook his head. "Nothing, Chief. Let's go look at a dead body."
* * * * *
"Hi, Cassie. Guess you beat us here."
"Hi, Blair. Jim."
"What have we got?"
"Female, brunette, blue eyes, approx. 5'4", early twenties. Death was by blunt trauma to the head. Looks like she was hit from behind. There's evidence of a struggle so maybe we'll get something from the fingernails. Someone took a big risk killing her during the party."
The murder victim lay limp and still on the fine oriental rug. Unexpectedly, she was not dressed for the party, but wore a black uniform.
"She work here?"
"No, sir," Officer Jenga spoke up. "She works for the outfit that's catering for this party."
"Hmm, wonder what she's doing so far from the party then. This room is halfway across the house from the ballroom." Jim bent down to carefully examine the bloody mess that was the side of her head. "She was killed by a long, blunt instrument."
"Like a poker, maybe?" Blair offered. "It's missing from the fireplace."
"Could be. We'll have to find it though. Did she have anything on her?"
Cassie handed him the evidence bags. Jim sorted through them and picked up her I.D. -- Lurlene Annabelle Gooch. The driver's license was Washington State issue, but he'd bet with that name she hadn't been born here. He handed it off to Blair, who looked at it and winced. "Wow, that's some tongue twister."
Jim looked over the contents of her pockets. Used Kleenex, keys, lipstick, a candy bar, a tic tac, toe nail clippers, two pairs of surgical gloves, and -- hello! A small camera. How interesting. "Take a look at this, Sandburg."
"Seems pretty typical, except for the camera."
"What about those gloves?"
"She handles food, Jim. Probably carries them in her pocket in case she runs into an unexpected food emergency."
"Maybe."
* * * * *
"Now, I'd like to talk with Mrs. Van Smythe."
The butler led them past the foyer towards an elevator. They passed the ballroom again with the sounds of a subdued party going on.
"Mrs. Van Smythe is in her private sitting room waiting for you. Second floor, to the left."
Jim pushed the button, the doors closed and the elevator slowly moved upwards.
"Wow," said Blair, eyes wide. "She not only has an elevator; she has elevator music."
"Yeah," Jim said drily. "The best of Burt Baccarat."
Blair snickered. "That's Bacharach, Jim."
"I knew that."
Entering the room, they found Mrs. Van Smythe waiting in a chair, with a lovely Irish setter at her feet. She was a stately old battleship of a woman, with an elegant, white coiffure and wearing a long, antique-white gown. There was a diamond necklace around her throat and diamonds glittered in her ears. Jim's eyes rested momentarily on her right hand.
The dog seemed to sense a threat to his mistress and leaped up, barking at the intruders. "Hush, Red Rover," murmured Mrs. Van Smythe and the dog subsided reluctantly. "My apologies. I'm Penelope Van Smythe and I do hope you can solve this dreadful murder quickly."
"I'm Detective Ellison and this is my partner, Blair Sandburg."
Blair smiled a little ruefully as the old battleaxe examined him -- long hair, ratty jeans, old flannel shirt -- and appeared distinctly unimpressed. She turned to Jim and asked, "Any relation to William Ellison?"
Jim's face grew stern, but he knew that who you knew mattered to these kinds of people, so he answered. "My father."
Mrs. Van Smythe's posture relaxed a bit and she smiled at Jim. "Of course, dear William. Please give him my best. Now what can I do for you?"
"Did you know the deceased?"
"She was a servant, here with the catering service. I've never seen her before tonight," she answered, coolly. Her heartbeat was a little elevated, but not enough to indicate she was lying.
"Did you murder her?"
"No."
"Do you know who did murder her?"
"No, I don't."
Jim nodded. "Thank you, Mrs. Van Smythe. I'd like to talk with Mr. Van Smythe now."
"He's currently in London, looking into an investment opportunity concerning a theme park involving various London attractions, such as the London Bridge, Buckingham Palace, Tower of London, Westminster Abbey, that sort of thing. I would have liked to go with him," she added wistfully. "The Royal Shakespeare Company is putting on a wonderful production of Othello, but this party was already scheduled and I couldn't leave."
They were interrupted as a beautiful young blonde came rushing in, her dress so short and gauzy that it more resembled a peek-a-boo nightie than a party outfit. "Mother, should I tell the caterers to start serving the food? The guests are getting restless and I don't know what to do!"
"Excellent idea, darling." The older woman turned to the detectives. "This is my daughter, Barbie. Barbie, these are the police assigned to find out who murdered that poor young woman."
"Oh, hi," Barbie said to Jim politely and then turned to Blair, smile widening. "Hi, there."
"Hi," Blair said, looking dazed and staring at her rack. "Oh, my God. I'd love to play spin the bottle with her," he whispered in sentinel-soft voice.
Jim's mouth twitched and he elbowed Blair.
Barbie took a closer look at her mother and exclaimed, "Why, Mother, where's your cane?"
"I don't know. It seems to be missing. I've sent for one of my others, but it's taking forever for Hilda to get here."
"You use a cane?" Jim inquired.
"Hip replacement. The operation was successful but I'm healing slower than I'd like. It's fortunate that we had the elevator installed two years ago."
"What does the cane look like? Perhaps we'll find it as we search the house."
Mrs. Van Smythe looked displeased at the thought of a house search. "It's ebony with a silver handle in the shape of a swan."
Just then the maid tottered in, carrying the replacement cane. Blair thought he'd never seen such an old maid -- the poor thing looked well past retirement age.
"Thank you, Hilda. Are we done here, gentlemen?"
"Maybe Barbie could show us around the place?" Blair suggested.
"Oh, Mother, may I?"
Jim tried not to flinch at her high-pitched squeal. He had no desire to have a possible suspect tag along while they were trying to put the pieces of this jigsaw puzzle together. "We'll find our own way. We wouldn't want to take you away from your guests."
Barbie nodded wistfully and left, still eyeing Blair.
Mrs. Van Smythe turned to them with an unhappy frown. "I'd appreciate it if you could resolve this quickly, Detective. My guests aren't used to this sort of thing. This isn't what they expected when they were invited to a dinner party."
"Someone was murdered," Jim pointed out sternly. "I think that's a little more important than your social event."
The woman flushed. "Of course. I'm sorry, Detective, but it's not as if Emily Post ever discussed how to host a murder."
"We understand this is stressful for you and your guests," Blair said soothingly. "But we do have procedure to follow. I'm sorry."
Mrs. Van Smythe smiled graciously. "I know you will do your best. Excuse me, I have to join my guests now." She rose and proceeded to slowly make her way out of the room. When Blair started after her, Jim pulled him back a moment.
"Listen, Romeo. I know you've got ants in the pants, but cool it on the job. Remember, you're not Barbie's dream date. What would she see in a penniless grad student? She could even be the murderer for all we know."
"Aw Jim, sometimes people just have to follow their hearts. But I'll be professional, I promise."
"You're wasting your time there."
"Love is never a trivial pursuit," Blair informed him optimistically.
* * * * *
They were heading down to the kitchen level in the elevator when Jim's cell phone rang. "Ellison."
"What have you got for me, Jim?"
"Simon, we just got here."
"Anything. Give me anything, Jim. I've got to call the Chief back."
"Want me to have Sandburg consult his Ouija board?" Jim grinned at Blair, who started humming the theme from the Twilight Zone.
"Ellison!"
"Well, you can tell the Chief that the Van Smythes are probably not the killers. Pending verification, he was out of the country and she's recovering from an operation and not likely to be running around killing the staff."
Silence and then a heavy sigh. "Well, it's something. Keep me posted."
* * * * *