Criminal Intent (at last!)

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor wish for the responsibility of owning, any of the characters, people, or places, in the following story. THe idea, however, is mine. So keep your mits off.


Goren sat next to a very grumpy Alex, his mind on a hundred things. At the top of the list were where is Miss Brenda Cummings, and should Alex be sitting through this.

He took a moment to look over the case again.

Brenda Cummings, 32. Mother stabbed in August of 2000, father strangled in October, best friend slaughtered in November. Multiple attempts made on her life in the past two years, (such as drive-by shooting, cut breaks in her car, mugging, etc) all of which she survived with no severe injuries. When her story was handed to Bobby and Alex, two things were certain: somebody had it out for this woman, and she was one tough cookie.

Could it have been drug-related? The follicle test on her had been squeaky-clean.

An ex-boyfriend? She hadn’t had one since high school.

Alex had basically solved the case on her own, which was a bit more common than people thought. Bobby had yet to even meet Cummings. Now they were waiting for her to give her the news.

Bobby stood, always the gentleman, when her lawyer opened the door into the mirrored room. Brenda Cummings was a tall, curvy lady with straight brown hair that slid over her shoulders and caught the light like coffee in solid form. Her large eyes were the color of sea foam, surrounded by long eyelashes. She smiled without moving her mouth and presented her hand.

“Hi. Brenda Cummings, it’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry I’m late, but I couldn’t get a ride.” She was an alto with perfect teeth.

Alex took her extended hand without putting forth the effort of standing. When she locked grips with Bobby sparks flew. It took a moment for him to pull his huge hand away from hers. He quickly regained his balance, pulling her chair out for her. “Miss Cummings, glad you could make it.”

“Brenda, please. I’m sorry it took so long, but my car’s in the shop and I couldn’t get a ride.” She had obviously been interrupin sin something recreational when she got the call, as she was dressed in paint-stained blue jeans and a man’s blue plaid shirt over a white tank-top. “Plus I had to put my paints away. Don’t want them to dry.”

“You paint?” Bobby asked.

She waved a hand nonchalantly. “It’s just an avocation.”

“Brenda,” began Alex, before Bobby could make more small talk. “We’ve found out who your stalker is.”

The smile in her eyes dimmed. She’d expected this. “Who?”

“Your brother.”

She sighed, looking tired and road-weary. “Chet killed Mom, Dad, and Jenn to get to me?”

“Any idea why he’d hate you enough to kill your parents?” Bobby was, as usual, sympathetic to the innocent.

“Yeah. Chemistry, I guess. I suppose I’m an extreme person. People either love me or hate me with no gray area, and family doesn’t make any difference. The fact that we were forced to spend so much time together probably made it worse. Chet and I just couldn’t get along. He annoyed me until I was terrible to him.” She grinned faintly. “We’ve been trying to kill each other since he was born. He just doesn’t know when to quit trying.” There was the dull thud of her lawyer kicking her ankle from under the table.

Alex sniggered, understanding. “Any idea where he might be?”

Brenda shook her head. “No. You’d better catch the bastard before he comes after me himself. I might have to hurt him.” Another dull thud made Brenda wince.

Alex smiled again. “Sibling rivalry doesn’t stop when the siblings grow up.”

“No kidding.” Brenda and Alex grinned at each other.

“Picking on each other as kids isn’t proper grounds for murder,” said Bobby, flipping open his binder. “I mean, sure it would be hard on a guy to have a big sister who was…” his hand danced as he searched for the words. “Smart, artistic, funny, attractive…”

Brenda blushed. “Detective Goren, jealously may have been a factor but not over my looks.”

He cocked his head, intelligent brown eyes peering straight at her. “I’m not sure. I thyou’you’re very beautiful.”

Alex’s eyebrows shot up as a broad smile took over Brenda’s face from chin to hairline.

“As a lawyer, Detective, I’ve learned not to trust anything you guys say in the Mirror Room. But thanks.”

Bobby grinned, his teeth catching the light. Brenda’s attorney and Alex traded glances. He was acting… out of character.

“I’m going for a glass of water,” Alex said, heaving herself out of the chair. Bobby was on his feet in a flash.

“Don’t be silly Alex. I’ll get it.” He looked to Brenda’s lawyer. “Would you like anything, Mrs. Peter?”

“No thank you, Detective.”

“Just water for me,” Brenda answered his inquiring glance.

When he left the room, the women chatted. In the viewing area Jim and Roy were watching, as usual. He never took his attention from the conversation as he filled up by the water cooler.

“He’s an interesting character,” he heard Brenda say. “I like him.” Jim snorted.

“Yeah, he’s complicated,” said Alex. Bobby sipped from his cup, watching the women and ignoring the amused men. “Hard to get close to him but once you get there it’s worth it.” She sighed. “I assume.” She grinned, knowing Bobby, Jim and Roy were all watching with interest.

“Tread softly, honey,” warned Mrs. Peter. “I know his kind. No life outside his work.” She surveyed Alex with the knowledge of a woman who’s had many children and knows when she’s in the presence of a new mother. “I’d hate to be in your place.”

Brenda reprimanded her lawyer. “That’s rude!”

Alex nearly laughed out loud. “Oh, this isn’t his. He doesn’t have a wife or girlfriend and if he did I wouldn’t be it.”

Jim clapped his hands and laughed. Bobby smirked, filling the other two cups.

“I must admit, I have a weakness for guys like that,” Brenda said quietly. “He’s a Renaissance man, no?”

“You could say that.” The mischief in Alex’s eyes could be seen from the space shuttle.

“Thought so. There’s… something very sexy about him.”

“You’re attracted to his brain. It’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

Brenda wasn’t the kind of girl to be fooled for long. She laughed from deep inside her chest and turned around.

“Your water cooler is in the viewing room, isn’t it?” Alex cackled and nodded. Brenda turned to the mirror that covered the men. She waved. “Hi, Goren. How’s it going?”

He snorted into his cup and left before Jim could say anything smart-ass. Alex laughed harder than she had in a long time and Mrs. Peter blushed as Bobby walked in the room.

“All right, all right,” he said, setting the cups down. “Calm down girls.”

The mood was lighter than usual as Brenda apologized. “I’m sorry. I’m usually a little more mature than that. Please don’t sue me for sexual harassment.” She batted her eyelashes at the detectives in mock-innocence.

He smiled. “We could all do with a little of that now and then.”

“Not to excess,” Alex was quick to point out.

Brenda nodded and sipped her water. Bobby watched her full, berry-colored lips cover the edge of the glass. He wondered...

“So,” she said, setting the cup down, “you don’t have my brother in custody?”

Alex shook her head. “That’s why we called you here. We’d like you to consider taking some protection with you when you get home tonight.” Brenda smirked, but said nothing of the condoms she kept in every purse. “We could issue some mace or you could purchase a tazer, or one of several other options. Other than that the most important you can carry is small enough to fit in your pocket when you forget your purse.”

“Do you own a cell phone, Brenda?” Bobby asked.

“Yes sir,” she said, pulling out a flip-phone from her shirt pocket. “Cool huh?” She replaced it and smiled.

Bobby nodded. “Use it. Here’s my number.” He scribbled down on a sheet of paper. “Home, cell, and office.”

“Thank you very much,” said Brenda, “but I’ve beaten the crap out of Chet many times before and could probably do it again.”

She took the numbers and folded them up, looking at her watch. Her eyes widened. “I didn’t realize it was this late. Can I get a ride, Maeve?”

Mrs. Peter shook her head. “Sorry, Brenda. I came by cab.”

“Good idea.” She smiled weakly. “I would too, but I don’t have any cash on me. People don’t usually stuff wads in their pockets when they plan on spending a day at the canvass.”

“I can give you a ride,” offered Bobby.

“Really?” Brenda beamed at him, eyes shining. “That would be wonderful. I hope it’s no trouble.”

“Nah.” Bobby pulled on his overcoat, longer than Alex was tall to accommodate his six-foot-four frame. “I was going home anyways. You live downtown, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” Brenda stood next to him, wondering if he was really as snuggly as he looked. She kind of wanted to wrap her arms around him and press her face into his big chest. She was good at suppressing her wants, though.

Bobby’s car was too small for him. She was also expecting it to be the kind of hopeless mess geniuses were accused of causing and keeping. His interior looked like it just rolled out of the facto On On top of that, when he stuck the key in the ignition the radio played St. Louis jazz, but only for a moment before he turned it down. He smiled at her before carefully pulling out.

He could tell she was surprised, but at what he wasn’t sure exactly. People didn’t like it when their first impressions were proven wrong. It seemed sometimes like he was simply dropped on this planet, an android or something, sent to be smart sol solve problems. Heaven forbid he should have a car, a budget, a family, a taste in music.

Brenda, however, looked amused when he said or did something that seemed to surprise her. Her small talk was friendly and didn’t stay small for long.

“So, do you know yet?”

Bobby tapped the brakes in front of a red light. “Know what?”

“Whether you love me or hate me.”

“Ah.” He turned the wheel gently but continuously, smoothly gliding onto the right side of the intersection. “Well, I don’t think I hate you.”

She smiled in her eyes again, the passing street lights illuminating her from behind. He’d known this woman for thirty minutes and already she could distract him from his driving.

“What’s your street?”

“Ashley. We’re not there yet.” She directed her gaze ahead. “How long have you been working with Alex?”

“A couple years.”

“She’s nice. Though I guess you would have to be, you know… I’ll admit I was expecting you and me to just click.” She snapped her fingers. “Leos get along well with Aries, especially when they’re both left-handed.”

“How did you know I was a Leo?”

She half shrugged. “I get feelings about that of of thing.”

“Oh.” He was impressed. “I heard we weren’t supposed to get along.”

“Well, we are.”

He looked at her. No one had argued with him for a long time. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” She caught a whiff of a familiar smell and chuckled. “You like peanut butter?”

“It’s one of my favorites. There’s nothing like a PB-and-J on the move. Why?”

“I can smell it. It’s making me hungry.” She shifted in the seat adjusted to fit the smaller Alex. “My weakness is—I kid you not—carrots.”

“Seriously?” The thought made him smile.

“Yes. I tried to give it up awhile back, you know, since they’re more air than food, but I ended up secretly hoarding it in my freezer. Vini vidi veggi, I suppose, is my battle-cry.”

Bobby laughed. Yet another thing she wasn’t expecting, such a nice belly-laugh. “‘I came, I saw, I had salad.’ That’s good.”

“Thank you; I try.” His laughter faded momentarily and a silent beat went by. He missed the sound of her voice.

“So what were you painting today?”

“Horses. I‘m about half done and so far I’m happy with it.”

“Do you always paint horses?”

“No. It’s usually people. Today I was just in the mood for equine.”

He slowed at a corner. “Here’s Ashley. Do I turn right or left?”

She took a moment to see where they were. “Left, please.”

Bobby pushed the car according to her direction. “Number 521, right up here.” She sat serious for a moment when he stopped in her driveway. “Thank you.”

He shrugged. “No problem. It’s just a ride.”

“I mean for everything. You guys work harder than anybody in this town and hardly ever see gratitude.” She gingerly leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Have a nice life, Detective Goren.” He didn’t want her to leave. He’d probably never see her again, and for some reason he didn’t want that to happen yet.

When she opened the door he placed his hand on her shoulder. “I’m curious about something.” He searched for the words as her eyes glowed at him. “May I come in and see your painting?”

Her eyebrows shot up but she set her feet on the ground. “Of course. Get in here.” He slammed the door behind himself and followed her up the walk. “The house is a mess, so don’t look at anything. And keep in mind it’s not my best and it’s half-done… but I like its progress and feel.” He kept a companionable quiet as she fiddled with her keychain. One of the rings had a phrase on it: “If I lost my sense of humor I’d lose everything I have.” He grinned as she pushed the door open.

When she flicked the lights on he was met with an absolutely fascinating living space. It was as though someone took her personality and splashed it on the walls. Cluttered, but not chaotic; cozy and serene with round furniture and inviting colors. And there were books! The woman had more books than she had room for. More stories and information than she could ever get tired of. He smiled, feeling immediately comfortable.

“This way,” she said welcomingly. He followed to adow dow where an easel sat, its back turned against him. “Would you like something to drink? I’ve got water, milk, juice, Dr. Pepper and half a Gatorade.”

“No I’m fine thanks.” She produced herself a moment later with a bottle of water and a sincere smile.

“Here we go.” She picked up the easel and turned it to him. The ghostly outlines of stallions were barely visible under a coat of the background colors. It looked to be set in Arizona around sunset. One half of a small black colt was finished as of thus far over the oranges, reds, and yellows of the desert. She busied herself with hanging her blue over shirt on an armchair and allowed him to admire in privacy.

“You’re style, it’s… it’s not quite Rembrandt. More of a… Rembrandt combined with… See Monday something, I think.” What was that new guy’s name?

“C.W. Monday,” she finished for him. “Yeah, I like the work both of them produce, but I don’t base myself on them. It’s best to be original.” She stepped up to his side. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it. It’s absolutely beautiful. It’s interesting how you--” He paused briefly looking down at her, finding a lacy white strap making itself visible out from under the sleeve of her tank top. He quickly brought his eyes back to the canvass when she shifted the strap up to her shoulder. “How you use light more as a part of the creatures rather than what shines on them. And the attention you draw to the eyes, I can see it even though you’ve just got it sketched out so far and painted over.” The colt was so detailed he felt that if he touched it he’d feel the warmth of its fur, but the sand and sky of the desert was a whimsical simplification. Sharp, true objects standing on a blur of color.

“Thank you very much.” She sipped her water. “Well, unless you want to see everything I’ve done over the past decade, that’s it.”

He sensed that she didn’t want to have to drag all those old canvasses out, so he said goodnight. “Remember you can call me anytime.”

She reached out to take his hand and giggled. “I’ll be fine. I know you’re tired, Bobby. Get to bed before I make you sleep here.” She clapped his arm friendlily, ignoring the way her insides burned at her own suggestion. He smiled, and if he’d been wearing a hat he’d have tipped it before she closed the door behind him.

Sighing, she turned back to her painting.

Blocking her view from it stood the figure of her brother. “What do you want?” Her tone was icy and there wasn’t the slightest trace of a smile in her eyes. He said nothing. “What do you WANT?” she screamed, hoping to scare him away with her volume the way she did when they were little. Her rage built up he mhe merely stared at her. “Chet get OUT!”

In a flash he was on her, covering her mouth with one hand and brandishing a knife with the other. But she could still out-maneuver him, even if it had been awhile since their last fight. She brought her elbow crashing down on her solar-plexus as her heel crunched his instep. Once freed, she screamed. A penetrating, cold scream so full of hate and fear its cause couldn’t be mistaken. When it was muffled by Chet’s gloved hand, everyone in the neighborhood knew she was in trouble.

Like a bull in a china shop, Bobby heaved his great body against the locked front door. It pulled away from its hinges and landed with a crash on his first push. He’d trained his muscles in the gym for strength, not bulk, so he was stronger than he looked.

And he looked like a tree.

Had his friends seen the fire in his eyes as he ripped Chet Cumming away from his sister they wouldn’t have recognized him. He was monstrous.

Chet fought with all he had against the larger man but he was simply wasting his energy. He was pinned to the wall and handcuffed in seconds.

“Are you alright?” Bobby called over his shoulder.

Looking ready to tear down a couple walls herself, Brenda nodded and got to her feet.

Always the gentleman, Bobby read him his rights. “You are under arrest for the murders of Stan Cummings, Lisa Lauder-Cummings, Jennifer Ellis, and the repeated attempted murder of Brenda Cummings. You have the right to remain silent…”