Kiss Me Cane chap. 1

Kiss me Cane
Act One
The PI



         “You have got to be kidding me!”
         “Sorry, Ben, ‘fraid it’s true.”
         Bennet Descartes looked up from the piece of paper she was holding to look at her (now former) boss. “What did I do THIS time!?”
         “Ben-“
         She held a slim, pale finger up. “First off, I SWEAR I don’t know how those chili peppers got slipped into Richardson’s sandwich, second of all, Stella’s permanently glued to her seat anyway (I just made it more literal), and third of all, what’s so bad about the commissioner now having purple hair? I mean, the guy’s got a stick up his-“
         “Bennet Elaine Descartes,” Mr. Forxe barked. She immediately quieted. When her boss was serious he used her full name. And when she heard her full name, she had sure as hell better pay attention. It was something she’d learned early on. The man sighed and ran a hand through his graying hair. “Your actions were unacceptable-“
         “I was just trying to create a fun work environment! C’mon, you thought the hair was funny too...”
         His mouth twitched at the memory. “Regardless, you have caused far too much trouble.”
         “But-“
         “Bennet, this is not my decision to make.” He gave her a sad stare. “You’re great at your job, but...well, the higher-ups have had it with you.”
         Bennet ran a hand through her own strawberry-blonde hair, mimicking the older man’s gesture unconsciously, a frustrated scowl on her face. “What the hell do I DO now, though? Work was my life, you know that.”
         His eyes softened. “I know, Ben, but you did bring this on yourself. If you hadn’t acted out so much-“
         “Save your breath on that lecture, I’ll just tune it out anyway,” She quipped.
         He shook his head, but there was a fond smile on his lips. “Look, if you ever need anything-“
         She grinned back. “I know. I’ll call, Jeff. I’ll call.”


(2 years later)

         The killer stared down at his victim’s body. Stepping away so as not to soil his new shoes, he cringed in disgust at the widening pool of blood. But, some sacrifices must be made. ‘All’s fair in love and war,’ He grimly reminded himself...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


         Theron Cane made a striking figure, with his shockingly red hair, his dark sunglasses, and his moderately casual suit.  The man moved with a dignity and pride that few possessed in the streets of Los Angeles today. Even when he stooped to get under the crime scene tape the officer raised, he moved with an inherent grace that seemed ill fitted for the alleyway he was entering.
         “What have we got, Speedy,” He asked of his CSI crewmember who’d gotten to the scene before him. Timothy “Speedy” Gonzales was surveying further down the street. Squinting in the dim light that penetrated the roofing above, he responded, “Homicide, T. The vic was one Louis Carmichael. Local rock singer.” He gently picked up an unusual fiber with his tweezers.
         Theron nodded, snapping on the latex gloves that were necessary to obtain untainted evidence. He examined the body. “Quite a way to go. Blunt force trauma to the head. Whoever it was beat his brains out.” He noticed an odd stain smeared on the pavement next to the head. “Literally.” He scraped some of the brain tissue off the road and bagged it.
         Theron removed his sunglasses as he spotted a discoloration in the pavement. He made his way over to it. A powdery substance was smeared onto the blacktop. “Interesting,” He mumbled to himself as he scraped off a sample.
         Theron heard a quiet chuckle behind him and looked over his shoulder to see Speedy grinning at him. “You’ve been single too long, T,” The younger cop said. “You’re talking to yourself.”
         “Whereas you simply have a higher resistance to that sort of behavior, hm?”
         The black haired young man sent a friendly glare his boss’ way before turning back to his job. Theron chuckled, but a thought did strike him. Had he been alone for too long? He shook his head. Nonsense. He didn’t need anyone. He had few attachments and that was just the way he planned on keeping it. And yet...why did he still feel like something was missing?
         The CSI team spent six hours processing the scene. The group hated outdoor crime scenes, and for good reason. A piece of evidence could be hidden by a plant, or blown away by the breeze, or contaminated with another substance. It meant that they had to be even more meticulous than usual.
         When they were reasonably sure they had all the evidence they could get, they headed back to police headquarters to further process what they had.
         Theron went along with the homicide detective to break it to the vic’s family that Louis was dead.
         When Harrison (the homicide detective rookie who was assigned the case) knocked on the door a man with stunning blue eyes and brown hair answered the door. “Can I help you, officers?” He asked. His eyes betrayed no hint to his knowledge of the crime.
         “Um...well sir, you see-“ Harrison stumbled.
         Theron took pity on the young cop. “Are you related to Louis Carmichael?”
         “Yeah. He’s my brother. Why?”
         “We found him lying in an alleyway by Main Street. He was bludgeoned to death.”
         The man turned white as a sheet, his eyes watering slightly. He stepped aside. “Please, come in.” His voice was faint, lacking the strength it’d had before. Theron and Harrison stepped inside and followed the man to the living room of the spacious apartment.
“My name is Devon. Devon Carmichael. Louis is...was my little brother. Our parents are dead. We are...were all each other had. He lived with me in my apartment. Louis made a decent living, but the income wasn’t steady enough for him to live on his own, so he bunked with me.”
         Harrison frowned. “I see. Do you know of anyone who’d want to kill your brother?”
         “No, I have no idea. He was a great guy, he didn’t have any enemies.”
         Theron leaned forward. “No recent arguments with anyone? No spurned lovers?”
         Devon paused. “No. No one would want to…Well, there was that strange phone call...”
          “Phone call?” Theron spurred him on quietly.
         Devon nodded. “Yeah, just a couple days ago, he got a phone call. I was in the kitchen with the door closed, so I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but it did escalate to yelling.”
         “Do you know who the conversation was with?”
         He shook his head. “No. I asked, but Louis wouldn’t tell me.”
         “I see,” Theron muttered almost to himself. “Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Carmichael. We’ll keep you updated.”
         Devon nodded and escorted them out. By that time, the sun had set, and even Theron Cane, the workaholic, decided to call it a day. As he drove back to his apartment, he looked above at the colored lights that had replaced the silent stars.
         Sighing, he made a detour to Al’s Bar. He was suddenly feeling alone.




         “Morning, T!” David called out as Theron entered police headquarters. Theron smiled and nodded, but stopped up short when Harrison strode up to him with an irritated scowl on his face.
         “What’s wrong,” he asked, a mirroring frown tugging at his own brow.
         “Devon Carmichael called and told me that, while he appreciated our ‘crime solving prowess,’ he has hired an old family friend who is also a PI to ‘assist us’ on this case, in order to solve it in a ‘timely fashion’.”
         ‘That explains the frown,’ Theron thought. Most cops don’t like PIs. The worst privates think they’re superior. The best ones think that at least they’re above the law.
         “Don’t worry, Harrison,” Theron reassured. “I’ve worked with PIs before. I know how to deal with them.”
         Harrison smiled, relieved that Theron had, in a sense, offered to shoulder the burden. He walked off saying he had some interviews conduct. Theron nodded to show he’d heard and headed into the lab.
         David and Speedy were at the computers, running some tests. Speedy glanced up when the door opened. “Hey, T! Is it true that we’re stuck with a PI? Please say no.”
         “Unfortunately, that’s correct.”
         David, who had looked up when he’d heard the question, gave a snort of amusement. At Speedy’s glare, his grin widened. “Don’t worry, Speedy, he’ll probably only be an insufferable, bigoted, overweight old man with a nasal New York voi-WOAH!”
         Both of the other men looked up at his exclamation. Speedy let out a low whistle when he too saw what had captured David’s attention. “WHO is that?”
         “I don’t know,” David muttered. “But I’d sure like to...”
         Theron finally glanced the same direction, his curiosity getting the better of him. What he saw made his mouth feel dry. A woman was walking up to the desk. Her outfit was a combination of silk, pinstripes, and transparent fabric. It revealed just enough to tantalize, but concealed enough to be decent. Her long reddish-blonde hair swayed along with her hips as she turned and started down the hall towards them. The three men immediately looked towards their work, not wanting to be caught staring.
But they had to look up in surprise when the door to the lab opened and she stepped in. She sent a friendly smile to the men. “Hi. I’m looking for a,” She looked down at the small notepad she carried, “Theron Cane.”
His co-workers looked towards the red haired man in surprise (he was in the shadows, checking something out on the microscope). At the sound of his name he looked up.
“What do you want him for,” he asked, stepping into the light.
Bennet jumped slightly, not expecting a man to come out of the shadows. When she saw him, she had to restrain herself from letting out a gasp. ‘He is...quite handsome...’ She thought to herself. ‘And a nice voice too.’ Kicking herself mentally for not responding to his question right away and just standing there staring like an idiot, she found her voice. “I-I was told to see him about the Carmichael case.” She cursed herself. She was not someone who stuttered! But she just had...She felt all the more frustration at herself than she had before. ‘Great, now I look like a bumbling idiot! Hopefully none of these men are Mr. Cane, I wouldn’t want this to be his first impression.’
The handsome red head stepped up. “I’m him, what is it you need, Ma’am?”
Bennet felt an ashamed blush on her cheeks. Shit. It was him. Maybe she could just turn around, run away and do this on her own...No. She’d promised to do this, and she would. She smiled brightly and offered her hand to shake. “I’m Bennet Descartes, Private Investigator.”
Theron had been watching in confused fascination the emotions running so quickly through her eyes, unable to identify a single one. But she looked quite fetching with that blush on her cheeks. What conjured it, he had no clue, but if he found out he’d catalogue it and use it again...But then she introduced herself. He stared at her hand in disbelief. “You’re the PI?”
Her eyes narrowed at the emphasis he put on “you.” Retracting her proffered hand, she looked at him levelly. Bennet was used to cops not particularly liking her “intervention.” She was fighting against several stereotypes, and she’d known that going into the business, but that didn’t mean it didn’t frustrate her. “I’m the private investigator representing the Carmichael’s interests. Is there a problem?” Bennet’s tone was the perfect balance of neutrality and power. She was practically daring him to object, but not doing it in such an obvious way that she could be called on it.
Theron’s eyes narrowed as he took in her message and her body language. The woman was trying to assert her power. HE was in charge, damn it. And it irritated him all the more the way his body was reacting to her challenge. He felt warmth suffuse him and settle quite heavily in his gut. The sudden urge to conquer her completely and make her submit to his power came upon him, and following on its heels were several sensual suggestions...
Mentally shaking his head to clear it, he narrowed his own eyes. “No. No problem, as long as you understand that I am leading this investigation.”
He was challenging her, Bennet realized. Probably hoping she’d back down like a meager woman. Too bad. She was no meager woman. “If I’m not mistaken, you’re the CSI unit leader, right?” At his nod she turned and threw over her shoulder as she walked out. “Then I’ll just speak with the detective. It’s obvious you’re too impressed with your own importance to focus on this case. No wonder I was hired.”
He stood there, fighting the urge to go after her and give her a piece of his mind. It was a battle he lost. Theron strode forward quickly and grabbed her wrist, ignoring the shivers of electricity that ran through him as his hand came in contact with the soft skin of her wrist. “You’re NOT making a good first impression, Ms. Descartes.”
She looked at him; her chin raised a defiant notch. “I could care less what you think of me, Mr. Cane.” Bennet yanked her arm free and strutted down the hall. Theron found himself getting lost in the seductive movements of her hips as she walked away. When he realized it, he turned and with quick, angry strides, walked back into the lab.
“Wow, T,” David said. “Seems like you’ve got a power struggle on your hands.”
Theron sent him a look that clearly said, “No shit” and turned back to his work. David turned and snapped his fingers in front of Speedy’s dazed face. “Yo, Speedy! Snap out of it man.”
Speedy blinked. “What? ...Wow she’s beautiful...” He sighed.
Theron ground his teeth at the comment, but restrained from hitting his employee up side the head. ‘I need to calm down...’ With that thought, he headed for the rec room.

~~~~~~


         The day passed and Bennet Descartes did not make another appearance in the lab; a mixed blessing in Theron’s opinion. He went home that night, but he felt oddly frustrated. Putzing around his home, he felt filled with an unfamiliar energy, and no matter what he did to appease it, it stayed in the forefront of his mind. When he finally collapsed onto his bed for the night, he stayed awake for hours, staring at the ceiling blankly.

~~~

         Theron had been having a very pleasant dream when he was jarred by the beeping of his alarm clock. Waking, he felt overheated and achy, cursing lividly when he remembered what the dream was about (and who with). He had no right to dream about her, he didn’t even know her! But that didn’t stop his body from broadcasting loud and clear what and who it wanted. As he got out of bed, he decided he definitely needed a shower-a cold one.

~~~
         When he walked into police headquarters, Theron had to stop short. Bennet-no, Ms. Descartes-was standing there with Harrison, the young man hanging on her every word. His eyes did a quick and covert inspection of her. A mixture of civil war soldier and Victorian lady styles in black velvet and white in varying degrees of transparency.  Did she ever NOT wear something that showed off her looks? Shaking his head he walked up behind her. “What’s going on?”
         Bennet jumped, turning around and almost coming nose to nose (well, nose to chin. Damn tall people...) with Theron Cane. She swiftly stepped back, ignoring the impulses that were whispering how much they liked that close proximity. She may go with her gut a lot, but these messages she would NOT act on. No matter how much she wanted to. And she wanted to, oh boy, she wanted to.
         Theron watched again, with fascination as the emotions flew through her eyes at light speed. She turned away, her green eyes fleeing his gaze. “Harrison was getting me up to date,” She said, with a smile to the aforementioned cop. He beamed at her.
         “Yes, yes that’s right!”
         She turned to the quiet redhead, an amused smile on her face. The smile faded though, when she looked at him. Theron didn’t know why, but he didn’t like it, and a frown formed on his face.
         She looked away again. “So, anyway-“
         “Hey, T!” Speedy came running down the hall. When he saw Bennet he stopped running and blushingly looked away from her. Theron chanced a glance to see her reaction. Her pink lips were curved upward in a gentle smile. He wondered what it meant and felt anger rising that that look had never been in his direction.
         “What is it, Speedy,” He snapped out. After a slightly shocked glance, Speedy gave him a folder, studiously looking away from the woman in their midst.
         “The tests came back from the lab. That powder you found near the vic’s body? It was cocaine. And Cynthia said that the guy’s system was filled with the stuff,” He iterated, summing up the pages of data.
         “What,” Bennet breathed out quietly. “But Louis...He wouldn’t ever...”
         “Well, he obviously did,” Theron said quietly as he walked towards the exit. She glared at his back, but followed. Speedy and Harrison were soon following as well. When Theron got into his police issued jeep, he was surprised to see Bennet climb in the passenger’s side. He blinked at her and she just gave him a dry stare. “Are we going to the Carmichael place or what,” she asked.
         He stared out at the garage, then turned the ignition. Nothing more was said between the two, a heavy tension hung in the air. He glanced at her occasionally, but she was always looking out the window, her chin in her hand and her long legs crossed at the knee.
         When the two cars pulled up at the fancy apartment complex Theron flashed his badge. The guard let them in and they pulled up in front of Devon Carmichael’s house. He was out watering his garden. As they got out he turned the hose off and walked over to them. “More questions?”
         “I’m afraid so, Mr. Carmichael,” Harrison said. He seemed to be getting into the swing of things rather quickly.
         Devon nodded, then turned to Bennet, smiling wide. “It’s good to see you again, Ben.”
         She nodded in response but Theron caught the guarded look in her eyes. Whatever her relationship was with this man, she didn’t trust him. ‘Interesting...’
         As they walked in, Devon turned to them, he looked straight at Bennet and said, “Make yourselves at home.” Bennet seemed to avoid eye contact with him whenever possible.
         “Hey, I’m kind of thirsty, would you mind if...” Speedy trailed off.
         Bennet nodded. “I’ll get it for you, Mr. Gonzales. You men need to talk.”  She headed off without a pause into the kitchen. ‘She knows her way around the apartment,’ Theron catalogued the idea for future consideration, then he turned his attention to the matter at hand. Devon was staring wistfully down the path Bennet had taken. “Mr. Carmichael,” Harrison said. “Did you know that your brother was using drugs?”
         Devon seemed genuinely shocked. “No. Louis would never do that. He...” Devon ran a hand down his handsome face. “Hell...I guess I did know. I just chose to ignore all the signs, because I didn’t want to believe. He’s a good kid, I swear! He was just...confused.”
         Bennet came in and gave Speedy a glass of water, and Devon’s eyes were glued to her form since she first walked into the room. She turned to him, but didn’t meet his eyes, instead looking almost over his shoulder. “Would you mind if we searched the house to look for clues as to who might have killed Lou...your brother,” she asked. Theron noticed the change from name to less intimate terms. She was trying to distance herself from the crime, to observe with an eye untainted by preconception. It was quite admirable. He was surprised that she was so professional.
         Devon nodded. “Of course. Anything that will help you...”
         Bennet nodded and turned to her purse to pull out a pair of latex gloves. Theron felt an eyebrow raise at this. “Interesting place to keep your equipment, Ms. Descartes,” he murmured.
         She blushed, but otherwise didn’t comment, leaving the room. ‘Let him assume what he will... ‘
         Theron felt a glare burning a hole into the side of his face, but when he turned, no one was looking at him. He shrugged it off and opened his kit to pull out his own gloves. “Speedy, you take the kitchen and living room. Harrison, you take the halls, I’ll take the bedrooms, if that’s alright, Mr. Carmichael.”
         Devon nodded. “Of course.” Theron started down the hall and into Devon’s bedroom, as it appeared Bennet was looking over Louis’s.
         As he looked through Devon’s room, he noticed all the ancient statues that had been collected over the years. There was a Buddha statue made out of a red stone, along with a jade dragon, and several gold statuettes from Mayan cultures.
         Nothing in the room was suspicious, but under Devon’s bed, Theron found a box of letters from Devon Carmichael to Bennet Descartes, unopened, marked: Return to sender. ‘Hm...’
         Theron looked up when he heard a thump against the wall in the next room; Louis’s bedroom. Quietly, he made his way out into the hall and peeked through the cracked open door. Bennet was backed up against the wall, glaring daggers at the man who had his arms closing her in. From the back, he could make out the man’s brown hair. Theron listened quietly from the hallway.
         “I knew you’d come back, Ben,” A voice he recognized as Devon Carmichael said lowly.
         “I didn’t come back for YOU, Devon,” Bennet said quietly. Her rage was obvious, though kept under a tight leash. “I came back because I want Louis’s killer brought to justice. I owe your family that much; I owe him that much.”
         He leaned his face in closer to hers. “You missed me, you know you did.”
         She turned her head and scoffed. “Only as much as a woman misses a headache.”
         “Elaborate,” he whispered, not trying to contain the huskiness in his voice.
         “You taught me the meaning of pain, of sadness. That was all you were good for. Our relationship has been over for a long time. DON’T pursue me any more.” She tried to push him away but he held fast, closing in on her even more. “Get away from me,” Bennet growled.
         “You want me still, I know you do...”
         “I DON’T want anything you can possibly offer. Let go of me!”
         “Why don’t you scream? The men with you would come running in then and stop me. So why don’t you scream, Ben?”
         She glared at him. “I respect your brother’s memory. He adored you, and wouldn’t want you to be arrested for sexual harassment.”
         “Then why don’t you fight, Ben? You can hold your own, I know you can.”
         “I have no desire to cause a scene,” She gritted out through her teeth. “I’m trying to solve this civilly.”
         He chuckled. “Excuses, excuses.” As she tried frantically to push him away, he moved closer, his mouth so close to hers. She looked disgusted as he drifted ever closer.
         He never reached his intended target; he was yanked back by his shirt collar, and roughly turned to face the enraged eyes of lieutenant Theron Cane. “She said to get away. I’d advise you to do as she says,” he said lowly, menacingly.
         Devon glared right back. “Mind your own business, Cane.”
         “Get out of here,” Theron growled. With one last glare, Devon stalked out of the room. Theron watched him the whole way, not trusting the man to leave. Devon snarled viciously and practically tore the door off its hinges to exit the room.
         Theron turned to Bennet, a surprisingly (in her mind) concerned look on his face. “Are you alright,” he asked softly.
         She could only nod, eyes widening in surprise at this sudden change of attitude on the lieutenant’s part.
         He gently reached forward and brushed a stray hair out of her face, his fingertips grazing her cheek lightly. Bennet felt the heat spread on her face, as well as her stomach. How was that simple action able to engender in her more attraction than any other advance by any other man?
         Theron stepped back swiftly and turned to walk back into the hall, berating himself for giving in to the urge to touch her. Nothing good could come of it.
Bennet could only watch his strong back as he walked away. ‘What the hell was that about,’ she wondered, her finger idly tracing her cheek where she could still feel his touch. 



         
         Back at HQ, with all the possible evidence they’d found at the Carmichael house, Speedy and Theron began to sift through all the items for any hints as to who would’ve wanted Louis Carmichael dead. Bennet walked in, looking at a piece of paper tucked carefully in her notepad. “Hey, do you know of anyone named Justin Coolidge,” She asked.
         Theron turned sharply. “How did his name come up?”
         “I found his name and number on a piece of paper in Lou...the vic’s room.”
         “That could explain the cocaine,” Theron mumbled.
         “Is he a dealer,” Bennet asked. Theron nodded, and watched as her brow furrowed slightly in concentration and she chewed lightly on her lip in thought.
         “No.” He commanded firmly.
         “Huh?” Bennet and Speedy both said.
         “You are NOT going to check him out, Ms. Descartes. He’s dangerous.”
         Her eyes narrowed and she put a hand on her hip. “And you think I haven’t dealt with dangerous characters before?”
         “You’re not going, and that’s final.”
         “Mr. Cane,” Bennet said slowly, obviously trying to keep her temper in check, “I am a PRIVATE investigator. Ergo, you are NOT my boss, ergo I DON’T have to take your orders.”
         He stepped closer to her, trying to intimidate her. “You are NOT going.”
         She stood her ground, glaring up at him. Stepping closer to him and gently poking her finger into his chest to accentuate every word she said, “I AM going and you can’t stop me.”
         “Ms. Descartes, you’ll not go, even if I have to cuff you to this pole, you’re NOT going,” he growled. ‘Damn it all,’ he chastised himself. He was supposed to be arguing with this woman, not getting hot under the collar from this battle of wills, not thinking of ways to put those handcuffs to use, not-hell, he was screwed. It was either grab her and kiss her senseless or turn away and go back to his work. With more effort than he cared to admit, he turned back to his work.  But first, he got on the phone. “Yeah, Josh? Can I get a police escort for a Miss Bennet Descartes? Thanks.”
         Theron looked at Bennet and felt amusement tug at his lips. Her mouth was agape in indignant shock, her green eyes wide and fiery with anger. “What!? What!? Are you kidding me!?”
         Theron let his smile slip through. “No. I’m perfectly serious.”
         Her glare intensified. ‘Damn he looks good when he smiles,’ a small voice in her head chimed in. The glare turned positively deadly, for now she was not only angry at the CSI head, she was also angry at herself. The man had been nothing but insufferable since she met him and STILL she felt the attraction. But...he’d been kind back at the Carmichael’s...
         She turned when a policewoman walked into the room. Theron smiled at the new comer, and against her will, Bennet felt a mild dose of jealousy rise up in her. “Good to see you,” Theron said. “Now, this is Ms. Descartes. I want you to make sure that, unless she’s with myself or Harrison, she’s only allowed to go to the police station. Is that clear?”
         The woman nodded. Bennet gaped for a few more seconds, her mouth looking comically like a fish, then turned angrily on her heel and stormed out of the police station, her new shadow behind her. She knew, even without looking, that all the while Lieutenant Theron Cane was silently laughing at her expense.




          It was midnight. Everything was quiet at the hotel room where Bennet stayed. The policewoman, Susan, was seated at the table beside the door, head resting on said table. Bennet liked the woman, she was quite nice, and she felt a little guilty for drugging the woman’s drink, but sacrifices must be made. She would accomplish her mission.

~~~

         Bennet looked up at the hideout. ‘Why is it ALWAYS a warehouse!?’ She wondered before cautiously making her way in. There was a table by a bed, and in the bed was a small Caucasian male. ’Probably Coolidge.’
         She snuck up to the bed and carefully collected a hair from his head. Harrison had told her they had found a hair at the crime scene that contained the killer’s DNA. Maybe this hair would help her... As she turned to leave, she felt a hand grab her and pull her towards the owner of the appendage. A hand with a sweet smelling handkerchief clamped over her mouth.
         ‘Aw, shit...’ And the world went black.