Grimm - The Icy Touch (33 page)

“Yeah, I’m kind of on the outs with Juliette again. And I get in Monroe’s hair... or fur or whatever... when he’s got Rosalee over. So I’ve been staying on the cot here.” Nick sat across from Hank and leafed aimlessly through one of the old books. Extra casually, he asked, “They give you a new partner?”

Hank shook his head. “Nope. Matter of fact they haven’t. I’ve been working with Wu and Renard but nothing much has come up. Not even good old-fashioned human murders. You get those coins out of town?”

“My mother sent a courier she trusts. They’re gone. Somewhere safe. Anything new on The Icy Touch?”

“Renard cleaned up the scene out there pretty good.”

“What about the feds?”

“Agent Bloom buys the story that The Icy Touch was more or less wiped out by a rival gang, out at the mansion. Kind of true. Fact is, The Icy Touch seems genuinely blown to hell. There must still be a few of the gang out there somewhere. But Renard says that after the info you picked up for Gegengewicht, they raided the rest of the Icy Touch gangsters in Mexico and Europe, so the punks are either dead or scattered—I reckon any leftover are just lying low, trying not to get their heads sliced off. Hey—Monroe give you a report on the girl?”

“Lily? Yeah. She’s back with her mom. She might have a touch of PTSD. But she’s doing well. He and Rosalee are kind of ‘uncle and aunt’ to the family now. The girl’s got no problem keeping the secret. Far as Lily’s mom knows, Monroe’s just a police department informer who helped bring her in.”

Hank chuckled. “And Monroe was almost arrested for her kidnapping. That cop who stopped them by the truck finds out that Lily is listed as missing, stranger abduction. She wasn’t going to let Monroe go down for that, though. Hey—I do have a little news for you from the department. Jacobs wants you to come in tomorrow morning.”

“Does he? He say why?”

“Not to me.”

“Why didn’t he just call me?”

“Says he did. You didn’t pick up.”

“I guess I’ve been kind of holing up in here.” Nick reached over and switched on his cell phone, lying next to the gun. He immediately saw two missed calls from earlier that morning. “Missed a call from Juliette, too.”

“How are things going with you and her?”

“Actually... We’re kind of hanging fire. She went to visit some family. Just came back. I guess she had to decompress and think stuff over. Looks like maybe she made up her mind.”

Hank stood up. “I got to go back to work. And you should go see Juliette.”

Nick nodded. He thought about trying to talk Hank into getting some coffee with him. He wasn’t in a hurry to see Juliette, not right now. In fact, the thought of seeing her scared him more than the dawn fight with Denswoz had. Because he was afraid she was going to break up with him.

You coward.

Hank waved goodbye and headed out.

Nick took a deep breath and called Juliette.

“Hi. Anybody there need an out-of-work cop?”

“Hi Nick. Um—could you come over this evening? We should talk.”

He didn’t like the sound of that.

“I could come over sooner?”
Let’s get it over with,
he figured.

“Nope. Seven o’clock. Can you make it?”

“I’m pretty slammed with sitting around staring at the walls, but I guess I could fit it in.”

“See you then. I’ve got to go. There’s a scared Jack Russell terrier who needs my attention.”

“Bye.”

But she’d already hung up.

* * *

He got there at 6:45 and sat in his car outside the house. The wind blew fitful handfuls of rain on the car roof.

He listened to country music on the radio for a while. It seemed somehow appropriate.

About five till seven Juliette came out with an umbrella, and tapped on his car window.

“You going to sit out here for the last five minutes or do you want to come in?”

He cleared his throat. “I
could
come in.”

She turned and went back to the house. He switched the engine off, and followed in her wake, hurrying up to the house. The rain was easing off but the sky was already dark.

Inside, he took off his coat, hung it up in the closet next to her wet umbrella. She went into the kitchen and he sat on the couch, and looked around the house they’d lived in together. They’d lived here for quite awhile, then she’d kicked him out, and he’d lived at Monroe’s. Then she’d let him come back. And lately... he’d been sleeping on a cot at the trailer.

She came in carrying two glasses of red wine. Was it to ease the pain of breaking up?

She put the wine down on the coffee table and sat down next to him. She was wearing a dress, he saw now. Rather a pretty pale blue.

“Are your wounds healed up?” she asked.

“Sure. They weren’t much—just a few scratches.”

“No need to be macho.”

He smelled food cooking. “That salmon I smell?”

“It is. With the sauce you like.”

He looked closely at her. She smiled and looked back at him.

“Let’s see,” Nick said. “Pretty dress, wine, invitation just before dinner, my favorite salmon. These seem to me to be good signs. Am I wrong?”

“You’re some brilliant detective, Detective. Right on the mark.” She sipped her wine and then put the glass down. “Except for one thing.”

“What?”

“You haven’t kissed me yet. If you were so sure of your deduction, you would definitely have kissed me. Because I’ve been waiting for you to kiss me.”

“You have?”

“What do you think, you big dope?”

“You’re going to trust me again?”

“Can
I trust you?”

“Yes.”

“Will you tell me what’s going on with you after this?”

“Yes.”

“So kiss me. And you can move back in tomorrow morning. Providing.”

“Providing what?”

“Providing you earn your keep tonight after dinner.”

“How do I do that?”

“How do you think?”

So he kissed her.

* * *

“Lieutenant? You wanted to see me?”

Jacobs looked up from his computer monitor.

“Ah. Burkhardt. Want some coffee? Fresh from the machine down the hall.”

“No thank you, sir.”

“Detective, you going to think before you act, next time?”

“Well, I...” He stared at Jacobs. “‘Detective?’”

The Internal Affairs investigator leaned back in his seat, and grinned. Then he opened a desk drawer, took out Nick’s gold shield, and passed it over to him.

“You can get the gun from requisition.”

“I’m okay with the department?”

“You’re a problem, is what you are. There’s stuff I don’t understand about you. But a lot of people spoke up for you. Renard—he insisted he needed you. Even Hank Griffin grudgingly admitted you were some use to him, occasionally. There isn’t anyone suing over the dirtbag... sorry, I mean the alleged dirtbag... that died out there, that day, when you were interrogating him. And I know any man can get carried away, especially when there are children in danger. Plus, all those girls signed a petition asking for you to be reinstated. Lily Perkins and her mom have written letters to the mayor, Chief of Police, and me,
insisting
you be reinstated. So I guess we better reinstate you.”

Nick smiled—but he still felt uncertain. He picked up the gold shield, and hefted it in his hand, thinking, once more,
Maybe I really can’t be a Grimm and a cop too. Having to keep things back from the department...

Jacobs frowned. “You look like you’re not sure you want to be reinstated.”

“Lieutenant, maybe I should think about—”

The door to Jacobs’ office banged open. Hank was there in the doorway.

“Sorry, Lieutenant. Kind of urgent. You give him his badge back yet? Because I need him. Well, anyway, the Captain claims I need him. He’s sending us out together to check something out.” Hank looked at Nick. “One of those cases that’s... kind of your specialty.”

Nick stood up, still hefting the gold badge.

“You and Renard could handle it. I was thinking maybe...”

Hank shook his head.

“Nick?
No.
Trust me. I need you on this one.”

He gave Nick a significant look.

Nick nodded, feeling a little easier.

“You sure you need me on this, Detective Griffin?”

“I’m sure, Detective Burkhardt.”

Jacobs snorted. “Will you too lovebirds get the hell out of my office and get to work?”

Nick nodded. “Yes, sir.” He put the gold badge in his coat pocket and went into the hall with Hank, closing the door behind him. He looked around, and saw no one else in the hall. “What’s this one about?”

“Oh it’s
weird.
It’s a
really
weird one...”

“Really? In Portland? Well, well. That’s hard to believe. You can tell me on the way...”

Much thanks to Micky Shirley for research and editorial input.

Thanks to Cath Trechman for skillful shepherding of outlines, and to Chris Lucero, Alex Solverson and Jessica Nubel at NBCUniversal.

And extra special thanks to Gary Labb, for police procedural clarity.

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