CASCADE'S SENSORY GARDEN - "WELCOME TO CASCADE" BY DREAMWEAVER AND TALEFEATHERS

WELCOME TO CASCADE

A Sentinel/Hardy Boys Crossover Story

PART 1

by Dreamweaver and Talefeathers

LMFA Nominee for "Best Crossover, Best Case Action and Best Short Story - 2006"

Rating: PG-13. Hurt/comfort, angst, mild profanity

Characters: Jim Ellison, Blair Sandburg, Simon Banks, Daryl Banks, Frank Hardy, Joe Hardy, cameo appearances by Major Crimes personnel, OCs

Plot Blurb: Joe and Frank Hardy pay a visit to Daryl Banks, in Cascade, and bring trouble along with them!

Sequel to: Band of Brothers

Feedback: Feedback for Dreamweaver and Talefeathers can be sent here [click on the link]: Sentineldreamweaver@yahoo.com

****

Joe Hardy groaned softly as he edged down the narrow aisle of the jumbo jetliner. “Wouldja look at this?” he groused to his brother Frank, who was close behind him. “We’re stuck right in the middle of the five-seats-across section!....Excuse me...sorry, excuse me...sorry, ma’am....” he continued, making hasty apologies as he inadvertently banged people with his carry-on bag. With an exasperated sigh, he stopped at their row of seats and located an overhead bin to put the duffle in, then edged into the row. He settled himself into the inadequate seat and shoved a lock of thick blonde hair out of his eyes, gazing around with ill-concealed irritation.

“And we’re gonna be stuck in here for eight hours!” he lamented, as Frank, having stashed his own carry-on luggage, slithered his lean body into the seat beside him.

“No we’re not,” the elder Hardy contradicted him, pushing back his dark hair in a gesture eerily similar to Joe’s, “We’ve got a layover in Minneapolis.”

“Just enough time to walk around and get the kinks out, and then back in this sardine can!” Joe grumbled. “This HOT sardine can...wish they’d turn the AC on! Tell me again why we’re flying to the West Coast in August?”

Frank surveyed him calmly. “We’ll, I’M going because I want to see Daryl again, and Blair and Detective Ellison,” he said. He paused, considering his words with a grin. “I wonder why it’s ‘Blair’ rather than ‘Detective Sandburg,’ but not ‘Jim?’” he mused. “Anyway, they were nice enough to ask us to visit them. I thought that was why you were going, too.”

Joe sighed. “It is,” he conceded. “I do want to see them, and I want to visit Cascade. And I dunno why it’s ‘Blair’ rather than using his title; it just seems to fit him better. Besides, didn’t he ask us to call him Blair...? But all that aside, it’s a darned long flight!”

“At least we make up time.” Frank reminded him, trying to be encouraging. “Three hours! We land early afternoon, Pacific time.”

“Yeah...” Joe didn’t sound very convinced, but he subsided and picked up the airline magazine from the seat pocket, starting to leaf through it. Frank settled himself as comfortably as possible in the narrow seat and slid his headphones and portable CD player from the small backpack he’d kept with him. Once he had it going to his satisfaction, he let his eyes close, and relaxed, listening to the music.

The plane continued to fill with more and more persons traveling from the East Coast to the West, and soon the Hardys were flanked on both sides with their fellow-passengers. On Frank’s left was a middle-aged couple who smiled briefly at him and said ‘hello,’ then left him alone; the woman immersing herself in a paperback book, and the man doing as Frank had done and donning a pair of headphones connected to a CD player. The seat between Joe and the other aisle remained empty, and Joe was starting to hope that whoever was booked into it had missed the flight. He really wanted that extra leg-room and seat room! But just as he was allowing himself to believe his good fortune, a slenderly-built, well-dressed man of medium height sat down beside him and slid a narrow briefcase beneath the seat in front of him.

“Hi.” Joe summoned up a smile, trying to be polite despite his disappointment over losing the extra seat. “You just made it!”

“Uh-huh.” The man nodded as he fastened his seat belt. He had light brown hair and hazel eyes, and was wearing a summer-weight suit. “The shuttle flight from Boston was late.”

“You going to Seattle?” Joe tried for a bit of get-acquainted conversation before they took off.

“No, Cascade. Business trip,” the man replied.

“Gee, so are we – me and my brother.” Joe indicated the oblivious Frank. “Not on a business trip,” he qualified, “just to visit some friends. I’m Joe Hardy, and he’s Frank.”

“Andrew Martin,” the other supplied his own name. “Have you been to Cascade before?”

“No, this is our first time. You?”

“Yes, I’ve been there a couple of times – not recently.”

Further conversation was halted, as the captain’s voice came over the speakers, welcoming them aboard the flight. By the time all the announcements, safety instructions, and other information was done, and they were aloft, Mr. Martin had pulled some papers out of his briefcase and was studying them intently. Joe, deciding not to bother the man further, returned his attention to the crossword puzzle in the flight magazine.

Their stopover in Minneapolis, as Joe had predicted, merely gave them time enough to get into the terminal, grab something to eat while they walked around, and head back to the plane to re-embark. Having experienced what passed for meals on airlines, both boys stocked up on munchies for the rest of the flight to Cascade.

Mr. Martin either had not left the boarding area or had been gone only a minimal amount of time, for he was already in his seat when Frank and Joe returned to theirs. The couple on the other side of Frank had gotten off in Minneapolis, and to the older Hardy’s delight, the seats were now empty.

“Hey, if these don’t fill up, I can move over to the aisle – and then you can move over one, and we all can have more room,” Frank proposed.

Joe nodded emphatically. “That’s a great idea!” Gently tapping Mr. Martin’s shoulder, he explained their plan.

“I’d appreciate it,” Martin acknowledged with a brief smile. “I’m only 5’9” and I’m cramped – I don’t see how you two boys can stand it!” As Joe moved over a seat, Martin took off his suit coat and rolled up his shirtsleeves to the elbow. “Warm in here,” the man commented, returning his attention to his papers again.

Joe noticed with a slight smile that their seatmate had evidently done a little shopping during their layover; the man now had a good-sized bag of circular red-and-white-striped peppermint candies which he was sucking on, popping one after another into his mouth. Hope he’s got good dental coverage, if he eats those a lot! the younger Hardy thought to himself, then shrugged. The state of the man’s teeth was not his concern. He took out the spy thriller he’d picked up in a gift shop and opened it to the first page.

Half an hour later, when the flight attendants came around with beverages and packages of salted nuts, Joe took advantage of the interruption to look a little more closely at the ‘Peppermint Man,’ as he had taken to calling Mr. Martin in his head. The man was still immersed in his paperwork, reading through what looked like a lengthy contract with great attention to detail – giving the curious Joe an opportunity to study him without being obvious about it. After all, Dad’s always telling us to pay attention to details...might as well get some practice at it!

Mr. Martin was nearly as ‘ordinary’ in appearance as the Network’s Arthur Gray, Joe decided. Light brown hair cut short, hazel eyes under dark brows. The bridge of his nose had just the slightest bump, indicating that it might have been broken at some point in time. With his sleeves rolled up, an expensive-looking gold wristwatch was visible on his left wrist – and Joe noticed a long, thin scar crossing the inside of his other wrist, the right.

He cast an oblique look at Martin, wondering if the man had possibly attempted suicide at some point in time. Of course, a person could get a scar like that from a lot of things....Well, it wasn’t really any of his business – just an interesting detail to remember! A scar, a slightly ‘off’ nose and a vast quantity of peppermints! Chuckling to himself, Joe decided he’d done enough practicing, and returned to his spy novel.

*****

“Wow, look at the water!”

“No, look at the mountains!”

The Hardys commented in hushed voices, murmuring to each other beneath the drone of the jet engines as they neared their destination. Looking one way, they could see the Cascade Mountains behind them; looking the other, Puget Sound sparkled in the distance, under the bright afternoon sun.

“Wow.” Frank settled back in his seat with a smile. “I don’t remember it being so pretty, when we were here before.”

“We were here in the wintertime,” Joe reminded him. “And it seems like we were always running around outside at night. Couldn’t see anything. Besides, we were down near Seattle, not up this far north.”

He glanced over at Mr. Martin, wondering if the businessman was admiring the view as well – but no, he was still poring over papers and eating his peppermint candy, seemingly ignoring the entrancing spectacle below them. Well, he’d said he had been here before, after all, so it wasn’t like it was a new thing. With a mental shrug, Joe dismissed Andrew Martin from his mind and began gathering up his book, magazines and snacks.

Frank did the same thing. Both of them wanted to be off the plane as quickly as possible. Daryl Banks had promised to meet them in the airport, and they didn’t want to make him wait any longer than necessary.

“Suppose Daryl’s changed much?” Frank asked now, zipping his backpack closed and stuffing it back under the seat as the expected announcement about stowing all bags and ‘returning seats to the upright position’ came over the loudspeaker.

“It’s only been five months – about the only change would be if he’d either cut all his hair off or let it grow,” Joe hazarded. “I mean, it’s not likely he’s gotten much taller, or anything. After all, WE haven’t changed!”

Frank laughed. “I guess you’re right – but I feel like I’ve changed, since I graduated from high school. And so has Daryl, remember.”

“I remember,” his brother replied glumly. Frank heading off to college was starting to be a sore point for Joe. Even though he was staying in Bayport and attending the university there, it still made things...different. Joe knew it was inevitable – but he wasn’t sure he liked it!

They waited impatiently while the plane landed, while it taxied to the terminal, while the pilot jockeyed it into place and the Jetway was connected; when the doors were finally opened, the Hardys were among the first to be on their feet and moving down the aisle. They hurried out the door, barely acknowledging the flight attendants’ cordial goodbyes, and strode quickly through the Jetway to the airport proper.

“Daryl said he’d be just on the other side of the security checkpoint,” Frank commented, snapping the handle out on his bag and dragging it behind him on its little wheels, his backpack slung over one shoulder.

Joe followed his brother’s example with his own bags, and the two of them hurried along as rapidly as the crowds would allow.

“Joe! Frank!”

They spotted Daryl, smiling and waving in welcome, and moved quickly to join him. Once greetings were exchanged, the three boys started for the exit at a more leisurely pace.

“You’re still the same,” Joe noted with satisfaction. Daryl gave him a curious look, and he hastened to explain. “We were wondering if you’d changed in five months, that’s all. You haven’t!” The other boy was still thin and gangly with newly-acquired height, his curly hair close-cropped. Wide brown eyes sparkled in his dark face.

Daryl began to laugh. “What did you think, I’d grown dreadlocks or something? No way...and you haven’t changed either.”

Exiting the terminal, they headed for the towering parking structure. To the Hardys’ surprise – for they had expected the August heat to be similar to Bayport’s – the air was fresh, without the sticky humidity they were accustomed to. It was warm, but not oppressive.

Frank took a deep breath. “Oh, I’m liking it here already,” he murmured to his brother. “Feel the difference?”

“Know what you mean,” Joe whispered in reply. “It doesn’t feel like a sauna here, like it does back home!”

“I brought my dad’s car,” Daryl explained, as they walked along, “but we’re going to have to stop and drop it off for him – then either catch a lift home with someone or grab a bus. But I can take you to the house first, if you want...?” He fished a set of keys from his pocket and pushed one of the buttons. Nearby, a gold-colored Crown Victoria flashed its lights as the car alarm deactivated, and Daryl pushed another button to open the trunk for the Hardys’ bags...

“I wouldn’t mind going with you,” Frank offered. “We might get to see Blair and Jim, and it would be fun to see where they work, anyway.”

“Sure, not a problem,” Joe agreed, stowing his luggage and closing the trunk lid. They climbed into the car – which, the Hardys noticed immediately, was redolent with the strong aroma of cigars.

“Okay – next stop, Cascade PD, downtown precinct,” Daryl announced, and started the motor.

*****

The Hardys weren’t unfamiliar with the West Coast; they’d been to this part of the country before. But Cascade was new territory, and both boys looked about eagerly as Daryl Banks eased his father’s car through traffic crowding the city streets. It reminded them of Bayport in some ways, for Cascade was a port city as well – just on a much grander scale! Puget Sound was considerably larger than Barmet Bay, after all.

Soon they were downtown, and Frank and Joe got their first look at the Cascade Police Department’s Central Precinct. It was a large, modern building with sleek glass windows covering the outer walls, and an underground parking garage where Daryl sought out a particular parking place marked ‘Captain Banks, Major Crimes.’

“We can just leave your stuff in the trunk for now,” he told Frank and Joe as they got out of the car. “If we get a ride with someone else, or end up taking the bus, or something, we’ll pick it up before we leave.” He led the way to the elevator in the corner, and punched the button for the lobby. Here the Hardys presented their ID and got visitors’ passes, and Daryl picked up one with his name and photo already on it; then they returned to the elevator, and Daryl pressed the button for the sixth floor.

“This is a big place!” Joe commented, noting the numerous floors. It wasn’t like he and Frank hadn’t been in large police stations before; they had! But this was definitely one of the biggest and most complex!

“Yeah,” Daryl agreed. “Cascade does most of its police work outta here – there are smaller precinct stations in the city, but downtown’s definitely Action Central!”

“What exactly does Major Crimes do?” Frank asked curiously. He knew that Ellison and Sandburg were detectives in the division, and Daryl’s father was the captain, but he was a little vague as to what constituted a ‘major crime.’

Daryl chuckled. “Well...if you ask my dad, he’ll say they serve at the whim of the Mayor,” he said dryly. “I looked it up one time, and he’s almost right. It said they’re responsible for ‘providing personnel to accompany VIPs visiting Cascade, and for solving crimes at the discretion of the commanding officer’.”

“Meaning, they can be called in on just about anything,” Joe commented with a grin. “Depending on what the commanding officer – and that would be your dad, right? – wants!”

“Well, Dad answers to the chief of police, and the Commissioner,” Daryl qualified, “so I suppose either of them would be the commanding officer. And yeah – they get pulled in on all the stuff like terrorists, bombings, jumpers, drugs, assassination attempts....Anything and everything, but definitely all the stuff with high-risk potential.”

The Hardys exchanged sobered glances. No wonder Jim Ellison’s usual expression tended to be grim...his job was super high-stress.

The elevator doors slid smoothly open, revealing a squarish hallway with multiple doors leading out of it, and a large seal of the Cascade PD embedded in the floor. Daryl led the way across the hallway towards frosted-glass double doors marked ‘Major Crime Division’ and stepped in confidently. Frank and Joe followed him, a bit more hesitantly.

“Hi, Daryl.” An attractive blonde woman seated near the doors looked up and smiled as they entered. She nodded politely to the Hardys. “I see you brought some guests.”

“Hi, Rhonda – yeah, this is Frank and Joe Hardy. They’re visiting from back east – Bayport, New York.” He tilted his head towards the pretty blonde. “Guys, this is Rhonda, my dad’s secretary...administrative assistant,” he corrected, grinning. “Is it okay if I show them around a little?”

“It ought to be fine. Things are fairly quiet right now.” She smiled. “You know the routine.”

Frank and Joe had been looking around with undisguised interest at the room, which was filled with desks and personnel both plainclothes and uniformed. Fluorescent lights and glass windows dominated; the whole place seemed to almost pulsate with brightness, accentuated by lit computer screens and punctuated by ringing telephones and conversations. Directly opposite the entrance doors was a private office with glass windows covered by miniblinds; evidently Captain Banks’ domain.

Joe nudged Frank discreetly. Frank followed his brother’s gaze to a pair of adjoining desks in the right-hand corner of the room. Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg were there, Sandburg seated, Ellison leaning over his partner with his back to the door, pointing out something to him in a file folder. As they watched, the older detective abruptly turned around and looked at them – and smiled.

“Well, look who’s here,” he said softly, and tapped Sandburg’s shoulder to alert him.

Blair looked up, saw Frank, Joe and Daryl, and a bright, welcoming smile spread over his face. He got to his feet, and both detectives moved to greet the newcomers.

“Frank – Joe, good to see you.” Ellison shook hands cordially with the Hardys, and lightly smacked Daryl’s shoulder.

“Did you have a good flight?” Blair inquired, also shaking hands. “What do you think of Cascade?”

“This is awesome!” Joe answered, indicating their surroundings. “And Cascade’s nice!” For some reason or other, he felt like Blair was studying him without trying to let on that he was doing so, and it made the younger Hardy slightly nervous. Why would Sandburg be looking at him in that assessing manner? But before he could decide whether he was imagining things or not, Jim Ellison had draped an arm about his partner’s shoulders and pulled him into a casual half-hug, and the younger detective’s attention was distracted.

“Daryl – introduce us to your friends.” A new voice interrupted them, and Frank and Joe turned to see several of the plainclothes detectives encircling their little group.

Daryl grinned happily and complied. “This is Frank Hardy,” he began, “and his brother Joe. Guys, this is Detective Henri Brown—” he indicated a hefty black man in jeans and a violently-garish Hawaiian print shirt, with a round, friendly face, who touched a finger to his forehead in a small salute. “His partner, Detective Rafe—” This man was so unlike Detective Brown it caused the Hardys’ eyebrows to rise in surprise; apparently Cascade PD thrived on unlikely partnerships! Rafe was young, white, slender, good looking enough to be a movie star, and dressed impeccably in a three-piece suit. He offered his hand to each of the brothers.

“Captain Joel Taggart,” Daryl continued, presenting another large black man in a suit, who greeted them warmly and cordially shook their hands. “And Inspector Megan Connor, an exchange officer from Australia,” he finished.

Joe stared in fascination at the six-foot-tall, auburn-haired beauty who was smiling at them in welcome. “Oh wow,” he murmured, “talk about shock and awe....We don’t have police officers like you in Bayport!”

The whole group of detectives burst into laughter, and Frank nudged his brother’s ribs sharply. “Joe!” he hissed in consternation – but Inspector Connor was laughing heartily, and didn’t appear to be insulted by Joe’s staring or comment.

“They don’t have officers like me in Cascade, either, mate; I’m one of a kind,” she said in a strong Australian accent – and then shot a sharp look at Jim Ellison, who had muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘thank God.’ He smiled sweetly at her.

“You forgot one, Daryl,” a new voice cut in. Frank and Joe turned towards the source – and both boys felt their jaws drop just a little. This had to be Daryl’s father, Captain Banks – of that, they had absolutely no doubt.

The Hardys were rarely made to feel small and insignificant; intimidation was unusual, for both were tall and strongly built. But Simon Banks definitely managed it. Standing well over six feet, he was both taller and larger in bulk than Jim Ellison. His dark hair was close-cropped, and sharp brown eyes observed them from behind gold-wire-rimmed glasses. He wore dress slacks, a white shirt, and a suit vest, a shoulder holster complete with weapon – and a forbidding expression.

Despite his demeanor, Banks was ready to welcome his son’s new friends without qualification. Unknown to Daryl, the police captain had discreetly checked the Hardys out, after his son’s tumultuous visit to Bayport, and liked what he learned. He was suitably impressed with their background; although he had never had dealings with Fenton Hardy, the man had a stellar record both in police work and as a private detective. And the sons – a little digging had brought to light some pretty incredible things the two of them had done, despite their youth. And if that weren’t enough, both Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg had spoken highly of them – and Simon Banks valued his detectives’ opinions.

“Dad – meet Frank and Joe Hardy,” Daryl said now. “This is my father, Captain Simon Banks.”

“Pleased to meet you, sir.” Frank swallowed hard and extended a hand. He lifted his chin and met the captain’s keen gaze squarely.

“Welcome to Cascade, Frank. Joe, nice to meet you.” Banks’ smile was surprisingly genuine and welcoming, and Frank felt himself relaxing. Maybe Captain Banks wasn’t quite the formidable martinet he appeared?

“It’s a pleasure, sir,” Joe echoed, and received the same warm grin and firm handshake.

“Daryl’s been anxiously anticipating your arrival,” Banks commented, and added with a grin, “and so have Ellison and Sandburg!”

“You got that right,” Blair Sandburg said.

“Dad, do you mind if we hang here for awhile and wait for you? Or should we get a cab or take the bus home?” Daryl asked, as most of the Major Crimes detectives began to move back to their desks and resume their various tasks. Only Jim and Blair remained.

Simon frowned slightly. “I don’t mind you staying, son, but we’ve got some business to conduct – something just came up before you arrived.”

“What’s going on, sir?” Ellison inquired.

Banks sighed. “I just got a call from the Mayor,” he rumbled with irritation. “We’re being put on a special security detail for a visiting celebrity.”

“Oh? Who?” Blair asked, his eyebrows going up in anticipation. “Anyone interesting?”

“Well, you might say so, Sandburg. It’s the musical group Valhalla, and their front man, Thor.”

“VALHALLA!” “Thor! Dad, do you mean it?” “Oh man, I thought they were coming to Seattle for a concert, not Cascade—” “Uh...who’s Thor?” Excited exclamations burst from several lips; the last query was Jim Ellison’s, sounding rather embarrassed as well as curious.

“Who’s THOR? Jim, c’mon, man, you’ve gotta have heard of Thor and Valhalla!” Blair expostulated.

“Sorry, Chief, but no. But I take it the rest of you have?”

“Yeah!” The response burst from three teenaged boys at the same time.

“Dad, can you get us tickets to their concert? Do you think you could?” Daryl bubbled with excitement.

“Is there any way we could help? We’ve worked security before,” Frank found himself offering. The thought of actually seeing Valhalla and its famous lead singer, Thor, was tremendously exciting.

“It’s security for the concert?” Joe asked, and was surprised to see Simon Banks shake his head.

“Not just the concert,” the captain replied. “There’s a black-tie fund-raising reception tomorrow night – evidently this Thor person is heavily into raising money to lobby for outlawing seal hunting, and it’s not a completely popular cause, especially in the countries that do it. One of which is actually his home country of Norway! He’s apparently received some threats in other cities on their concert tour. Anyway, for whatever reason – maybe the politicos pulled some strings – they’ve added Cascade to the tour at the last minute. I guess they had a couple free days between appearances. We’ve been tapped to provide security for the reception and for the concert as well.” He looked keenly at his best detective team. “Jim, this is right up your alley, so I’m requesting that you be in charge.”

Ellison groaned. “Simon...sir. Tuxedos? Little headphones and concealed mikes? Society matrons! Socialites!” He groaned again. “Fancy hors d’oeuvres?” Another heartfelt groan. “And a ROCK CONCERT?”

“Aw, Jim...” Blair patted his partner’s back consolingly. “You look really, really good in a tux, man – and most hors d’oeuvres are great, you know that! And maybe you’ll like the rock concert, you never know. Anyway, we’ll deal.” He grinned at their captain. “He’ll be happy to, sir.”

“Sandburg!”

Blair winked. “He will.”

“SANDBURG! I will NOT be HAPPY ABOUT IT!’ Ellison lowered his voice and heaved a pathetic sigh. “But I’ll do it, of course, Captain,” he finished.

Banks was having difficulty keeping his chuckles under control; the boys and the rest of the detectives in the bullpen weren’t even attempting it. “Thank you, Detective. I’ll leave it in your capable hands,” he said, and retreated to his office.

“Jim, do you think we could go to the Valhalla concert?” Daryl pleaded. Since his father had departed the scene, he went for the next best bet, the new head of concert security.

“How would I know?” Ellison said. “I only heard about this five minutes ago, remember?” He glared down at his partner, who was making no attempt to keep the wide smile from his face. “You could look a little more sympathetic, you know,” he growled.

“Hey, I happen to like Valhalla,” Sandburg defended himself. “And I think Thor’s efforts to raise money for fighting against hunting seals are great, Jim!”

“It’s those pictures of the little white fuzzy babies, isn’t it?” Jim sighed. “Just who IS Valhalla, anyway?” he added. If he was stuck with this idiocy, he wanted to have some idea what he was in for.

“They’re a Scandinavian group,” Blair explained. “From Norway. Hence the name Valhalla, and Thor. And they’re VERY popular, world-wide.”

Jim cringed. “Scandinavian? Like ABBA?”

His partner began to laugh. “ABBA was Swedish, not Norwegian. And they’re pretty far from ABBA, musically speaking. A lot harder-edged. But still, you might like them, Jim, really!”

“Yeah, yeah....” Jim heaved one last ‘pity-me’ sigh, and moved towards his desk to get started on his new assignment. “Come on, we’ve got work to do, Junior.”

“Jim—” Frank stepped forward, one hand extended. “I meant it – is there some way Joe and I can help? We have worked security before – and at rock concerts.”

“That’s right,” Joe corroborated, “We’d be glad to pitch in....”

Ellison eyed them dubiously. “I don’t like involving civilians in police work,” he said flatly.

Beside him, Blair went into a coughing fit – an obviously fake coughing fit. “That’s right, Jim – keep those civilians in the truck...*cough...cough*,” he said, grinning.

The rest of the Major Crimes personnel within earshot were laughing too, as was Daryl, and Ellison flushed pink. He whapped his chortling partner lightly on the back of the head.

“Shut up, Sandburg.”

Not quite understanding the joke, but smiling anyway, the Hardys waited, hopefully Jim surveyed them thoughtfully, rubbing his chin.

“There’s no way you can attend the reception,” he said at last. “I assume you didn’t bring dress clothes along with you, and Simon said it was black-tie. Besides, you’re too young. Even in tuxes you’d stick out like sore thumbs, and there goes the low profile we’re trying to maintain.”

“But the concert...?” Joe prodded eagerly.

“I’ll think about it,” Ellison half-promised. “You’d fit right in with the roadies and set-up crew, better than most police personnel. Let me do some work on it first, though, and see if we can swing it. You too, Daryl,” he added with a smile, “IF it works out.”

“Yesssssssss!” Joe and Daryl exchanged elated high-fives; Frank grinned with satisfaction. If Jim Ellison said he’d try to get them in on this, Frank was sure they were as good as in already.

*****

“Jim, you keep grinding your teeth like that, you’re gonna be in the dentist’s office all next week while they try to repair your cracked molars.”

Jim gave his partner a malevolent look. “You’re enjoying this,” he accused.

“Hey, I don’t mind dressing up,” Blair preened a little, smoothing down his satiny vest. “And you gotta admit, you look damned sharp in a tux yourself.”

“What’s the way I look in a tux have to do with anything?”

“Nothing, I suppose,” Sandburg admitted, “I’m just trying to find some positives, man!”

Jim chuckled unwillingly. Trust Blair to look on the bright side. He looked around the spacious Cascade Convention Center ballroom at the glittering crowd of socialites dressed in their finest.

His keen eyes picked out the members of his security team one by one: Rafe, looking entirely at home in his tuxedo, lounging nonchalantly near the punch bowl and making light conversation with elegantly-attired dowagers – who were nearly cooing over the handsome police officer with the exquisite manners. Brown, who was pacing about the central hall outside the ballroom, surprisingly sleek and polished. Megan Connor, on Captain Banks’ arm, looking anything but a police detective in her low-cut, slinky dark green evening gown, her auburn hair a cascade of curls atop her head. Jim decided she must be carrying her weapon in her tiny gold-lamé purse, and momentarily wondered what caliber gun would fit in the little receptacle! Joel Taggart, looking like a well-dressed teddy bear. Several of the uniforms from Major Crimes, oddly unfamiliar in their formal wear, but blending in unobtrusively as well.

Everything’s going okay...so far.

The guest of honor, Thor – whose real name was Kjetil Hakonsen – or the rest of his group, Valhalla – hadn’t appeared yet. Ellison understood the technique involved – keep the audience waiting – but still, it irked him. This wasn’t a concert, and these people were spending a lot of money to support Thor’s cause. It seemed to the detective that the singer ought to make the effort to acknowledge it a little better! He was also surprised at the large turnout, considering that this reception had essentially been an impromptu affair, with very little warning. I suppose the rich and influential can always find time to dress up and come to a party....

“Think your dad will be here?” Blair inquired now, surprising Jim out of his cynical thoughts.

“He might be, at that,” Ellison conceded, “although as far as I know, he’s never been into rock stars! Or saving seals. I saw Stephen, though” he added, meaning his younger brother, who was following in William Ellison’s footsteps and was on his way to becoming one of the more prominent businessmen in Cascade – as his father already was.

“He wouldn’t have to be into rock stars, just one of the more important people in the city,” Blair observed. “With money. And you gotta admit, he is that!”

“Yeah.” Ellison resumed scanning the crowd closely, and felt his partner’s hand warm against the small of his back, as Sandburg unobtrusively grounded him. After a moment or two, the Sentinel relaxed, letting his hearing and vision return to normal. He smiled down at Blair. “Thanks,” he said softly.

“Everything okay?”

“For the moment – but after all, Thor isn’t here yet!”

(Go to Part 2 - see the right arrow below)