Author: Daydreamer
Date: 29 August 2004

I'm Not A Cop

Jim kept telling him he was not a cop. Simon kept telling him he was not a cop. Hell, they all had told him he was not a cop at one time or another. Blair narrowed his eyes and looked around. He may not have been a cop, but he knew one thing: he was not the perp. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was a place to start. Everyone was studiously ignoring the fact that a crime had just been committed -- right under their noses -- and he wasn’t going to put up with it. After all, he was the one with the bad history with elevators, and there was no telling how long this one would be stuck or how much longer he would be trapped with the culprit. For his own survival -- and his Sentinel's -- he was going to have to solve this one.

"All right, then. You first,” he demanded of the man to his left. “Where were you last night?” It wasn't tactful, and he hadn’t used his normal diplomacy in asking, but it was a start as the criminal would be sure to produce a false alibi. Everyone in the elevator turned to look at him.

"Home," the man replied, nervously smoothing his shirt over his stomach. "It was my sister’s birthday and I wanted to call while the party was going on."

"Hmmmm,” mused Blair. “Okay.” He turned to the woman behind him. "And you?"

"Ah ... Damnit! Don't let this get around, will you?" the woman replied. “I canceled a dinner date with Frank. Just wasn’t in the mood for dressing up. I, uh,” she lowered her eyes, embarrassed, “I went to a movie with a girlfriend."

"Hmmmm.” Blair nodded, barely refraining from rubbing his chin in a Holmesian parody. "I don't suppose you have the ticket stub, do you?"

Her eyes flashed at him. “Not that it’s any of your business,” she replied, “but no, I don’t. I changed purses this morning and cleaned out the old one.”

"Well, that’s that then.” Blair met her eyes unblinkingly. "I know how you women are about your purses. Everything builds up for months, but then when you clean – nothing survives.” He sighed. The woman was definitely suspect, but her alibi might hold if he could track down the mysterious girlfriend.”

"That just leaves you," he said, looking at the well-dressed man on his right.

"Look,” the man yawned tiredly, “I'm just heading home. I was here all night and all I want to do is hit the bed.”

"Really?” Blair drawled. “Are you sure you didn't take an extra long break last night? Maybe duck out for a little something to eat at some point?”

The man grimaced. “I wish. I was pushing the coffee all night. All I had was a stale sandwich from the vending machine. I just want to go home, grab a shower and catch a few winks.” He yawned again.

Blair looked at the three people sharing the elevator with him. It was time to increase the pressure. He might not be a cop, but he was damn sure going to solve this little crime. There was no way his Sentinel could tolerate this once these people were off the elevator and up in the bullpen.

"Someone’s lying, and I’m not going to put up with it," he said. "I want proof.” He stared each person in the eye and then said, “I want you to produce evidence to support your alibi.”

The others stirred and the woman even rolled her eyes, but she pulled her cell phone and began to make a call. The well-dressed man was digging through his pockets in search of a piece of the sandwich wrapper. The first man was the only one who didn’t move.

Blair locked his gaze onto the man.

"Alright! Alright," Brown said. "I lied. It wasn’t my sister’s birthday. I got stood up and ended up eating, alone, at the Golden Fortune. Chinese." He ducked his head in misery.

"Ah hah!" said Blair. The truth at last. Mystery solved plus his chance to protect his sentinel. And they said he wasn't a cop. “You know you can’t be around Jim like this," he chided gently. "You know how sensitive he is.”

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Brown sighed. "I know.” He looked helplessly at Rafe and Megan. “Sorry. It was me. I farted."