Detective Ellison and the Crimson Caper

by Grace


Disclaimer: The characters of The Sentinel do not belong to me. No infringement intended.
Notes: The idea, and a good bit of the plot, was inspired by "Detective Donut and the Wild Goose Chase" by Bruce Whatley and Rosie Smith. Thanks to Felicia for the villain inspiration.
Archive: Certainly, just let me know.

Rating: G
Category: Humor
Summary: Will Jim find the missing Sandburg? Is Sandburg really missing? What does someone want with Jim's socks? Will Jim eat donuts? The answers are all here...

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I stared blearily into a cold cup of coffee. It had been a long week and my last case had worn me out. Stretching, I reached for my jacket, feeling sorry for myself.

It was my birthday and nobody had remembered. Worst of all, Joel had eaten the last donut.

I was headed for the door when a beautiful redhead stepped in front of me.

"Joe?" she asked, handing me a steaming hot cup of coffee.

"No, I'm Detective Ellison, Joe is two doors down in Robbery. But thanks for the coffee." I started to go around her but she got in my way, placing her hand on my chest.

"Detective," she said, "I'm an assistant to Professor Sandburg and I need your help."

She went on to tell me that she suspected that Sandburg was missing. He hadn't shown up for his afternoon office hours. Concerned, I picked up the phone and dialed his cell phone number. No answer.

"Please, you've got to find him," Sandburg's assistant begged. "He's got a rare artifact that I need to take to the University Museum."

I sighed. If there was trouble in Cascade, my partner could usually be found in the middle of it. Which reminded me, Sandburg owed me a birthday present.

Of course, I might be worried for nothing. Sandburg got distracted easily and often forgot to charge his cell phone, it was remotely possible that he wasn't in any trouble at all. If that was the case, though, it was only a matter of time until trouble found him. Besides, he usually called me to let me know where he was going. Maybe this time he had forgotten.

He had also forgotten to tell me he had an assistant.

Shrugging into my jacket, I set out to look for my partner.

I stopped by the loft on the off chance Sandburg had left me a note. There wasn't a note, but the mail was on the table. I quickly deduced that my partner had been here this afternoon at some point. Glancing at the mail, I noted a few bills, a letter and a small package. The package had no postage on it, so I figured it was my birthday present from Sandburg. Absently, I stuffed everything into the pocket of my jacket. Right now, I had more important things to do than open my mail. I had a partner to find and I knew just how to start.

I'd follow my nose.

To the bakery on the corner. Hey, I still hadn't had any breakfast! Besides, a couple of donuts always improves my brain function. Too bad I can't get Sandburg to do some tests on that phenomena. I figure I could squeeze him for 2 dozen, easy.

Anyhow, it was after my third buttermilk donut that I had my first big break. Unfortunately, it was my little finger.

Some guy had tried to steal my jacket. Needless to say, he didn't succeed, but when I cold cocked him, I found out he had an iron jaw. Ouch. By the time I got the the pain under control, the guy was gone.

I eased my frustration with another donut and tried to figure out why someone would want to steal my jacket. I mean, granted it was genuine Sears pleather and mighty stylish, but that perp was half my size.

Perhaps he wasn't after my jacket at all. Mentally, I reviewed the contents of my pockets. Bills. He could have those if he wanted them. A letter and my birthday present from Sandburg. Sandburg always gets me a package of white socks for my birthday. I can always use a good pair of hypo-allergenic, dye-free, fragrance-free, 100% cotton, full length socks. With double elastic. But why would anyone want my socks?

Shaking my head, I decided I must be imagining things. Anyhow, my jacket wasn't important - finding Sandburg was. I headed to his office at the university. I hoped to find a clue there, instead, I got a surprise.

When I entered his office, the lights went out. When they came back on, I found that someone had turned the place upside down. Quickly, I deduced two things. Sandburg's office wasn't upside down, I was. Someone had knocked me over the back of his ratty little couch. And whoever had done that had also taken my jacket, and my birthday present with it.

I focused my hearing and was rewarded with labored panting in the stairwell. It was either my thief or that ancient janitor who used to be a sculptor. Either way, I'd get a bust.

As I ran for the stairs, I started getting mad. Really mad. I was supposed to be out looking for my partner and instead I was chasing my own birthday present. Just what kind of sock fetish did this guy have, anyway?

I followed the footsteps to the parking garage when the sudden squeal of tires made me flinch. Rushing around the corner, I saw the perp limping out the door to the street. But my jacket was on the ground in front of the car that had hit the sock stealing maniac. I retrieved my jacket and was pleased that my package was still inside the pocket. Hurrying, I followed after the would-be thief.

To my surprise, I ended up back at the bakery. When I got there, I couldn't find the perp, but I did see Sandburg's assistant, and she was looking a little rough.

"Have you seen Sandburg?" I asked.

"Behind you!" she yelled, pointing.

I turned around, scanning the crowd, but didn't see any sign of my partner. When I turned back, I didn't see any sign of my jacket, either. This just wasn't my day.

Suddenly, there was a crash. I rushed outside to see Sandburg's assistant crushed under the bakery's heavy sign, my jacket clutched in her fingers. Then it hit me. Sandburg didn't have an assistant. It must be the notorious criminal Cascade Crimson who had been trying to make off with my jacket.

Kneeling down, I checked for a pulse. "She's dead," I confirmed.

"And flat," added a bystander.

"As a pancake," agreed the bakery's manager. "Speaking of pancakes, who's hungry?"

As the patrons filed back inside, I noticed that my package had been ripped open and there was no sign of my socks. Just some ugly statue of a guy with 5 arms. What a strange present. Especially since Sandburg always got me socks. Which reminded me, I still had a missing partner to find.

I went back to the loft to see if there was something I had missed. Sinking down onto the couch, I sighed. Still no sign of Sandburg, but at least I had my jacket. And my present.

That's when I remembered my mail.

One of the bills was for the phone. The letter was actually a note from Sandburg. It said that he knew Cascade Crimson was on the loose and she was after the statue.

I quickly concluded that the package was not my birthday present after all. Sandburg had given me the statue for safe keeping while he hid out from the nefarious thief.

Figuring that once Sandburg heard of her demise he would come home, I sat back and felt sorry for myself. Nobody had remembered my birthday.

A few minutes later, the door burst open and my partner plowed into the room. "Hey, Jim!" Sandburg called out as he kicked the door shut behind him. Tossing his keys in the basket with one hand, he threw me a gaily wrapped package with his other hand and continued on towards the kitchen.

I guess he remembered after all. And the socks were a perfect fit. They were white, hypo-allergenic, dye-free, fragrance-free, 100% cotton, full length socks. With double elastic.

Sandburg brought me a beer and settled down next to me on the sofa. He clinked his bottle against mine. "Happy Birthday, Jim," he said.

I smiled, content in the way the day had turned out. A known felon was off the streets for good, I had my jacket back and a new pair of socks. Best of all, I had found my partner and he had remembered my birthday.

Suddenly, the lights went out.

Damn.

The other bill had been for the electricity.


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End

Feedback of any kind will be entertained by Grace .


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