Security office, Millenium Towers, Thursday, 8:00am

Again, it took a few minutes to clear the obstacles before they were allowed into the inner sanctuary of the Millenium Towers. Blair used the time to call David Phillips, but missed him between home and the station. Before he could make another attempt to reach the man, Martin Laferty arrived in his office. They informed him of their suspicions in regards to the case.

"Inside job? Absolutely not!" Laferty's mood had not improved since the previous night. "The residents here are the cream of Cascade's society. They don't need to steal from each other."

"What about the support staff?" Blair was cringing even before his words were out.

"Listen, hippie," Laferty turned his wrath towards the junior detective. "I personally supervise the hiring of each and every person employed here. Every maintenance person, every groundskeeper, every security officer has passed my inspection, and that is obviously more stringent than your department policy."

Jim broke in before the pompous man could go any further. "Well Mr. Laferty, if that is the case, then we'll have to concentrate our efforts on the weak points of the building's security." He picked up the files Laferty had prepared for them. "We'll start by interviewing the victims of these earlier crimes. By the way, Laferty, we met your daughter last night. Did she get the grass stains out of her dress?" Jim smiled sweetly and didn't wait for an answer. "Let's go, Chief."

Sandburg was out the door well before Ellison, and didn't slow down until he had reached the courtyard. By the time Jim caught up with him, Jim could hear him muttering "I'm letting this go. I'm letting this go."

"You okay buddy?" Jim knew his Guide wouldn't let Laferty get to him for long.

Blair let out a long breath. "Yeah, I'm good, what about you? I can't believe you managed to let it 'slip' that we found his daughter rolling around in the bushes last night."

"I was just concerned about her wardrobe."

"Yeah, right." Blair couldn't help but laugh, which was what Ellison wanted. "Where to, oh tactful one?"

Jim glanced down at the files he carried. "Let's start with Mr. and Mrs. Charles Palmer. According to the report here, Mrs. Palmer reported a ruby necklace missing three months ago. Laferty was convinced that the old lady just lost it somewhere and the building owners reimbursed her."

"They reimbursed her? How much was it worth?"

"Apparently less then the building's reputation." Jim couldn't keep the disgust out of his voice. "They'd rather pay out than admit that a crime happened in their precious utopia."

"Great, what unit are they in?" Sandburg tucked his hair behind his ears and straightened his shirt. "Lead on, McDuff."

It took the two men a few minutes to figure out the layout of the complex. There was a separate elevator for each of the four towers, one at each corner of the building. Since the entire building covered the equivalent of several blocks, it was a long hike to find all the elevators. Tranquility and Serenity were at the front of the building, with an impressive view of downtown Cascade and the waterfront, while Harmony and Unity, where they were headed, looked out towards Rainier Mountain Range.

Once they were in the elevator on their way to Unity 10, Jim handed the files over to Blair. "It says here that Mr. Palmer is 93 years old and his wife is 91. With our luck, her necklace is in the freezer."

"According to this, she left it sitting on her dresser and then it was gone. Up until the one last night, I can understand why they didn't think there was a crime involved." Blair hated to admit understanding any of the actions of Laferty and his men.

Jim shook his head. "Maybe, but the other one should have raised all sorts of red flags."

Before Blair could switch to the other file, the elevator stopped and they were at the door to Unity 10.

Jim pulled out his badge and knocked on the door. A shuffling sound could be heard and after a long delay the door slowly swung open.

"Yes?" An impeccably dressed elderly gentleman stood in the doorway. A brass-topped cane supported much of his weight and Jim could see minute tremors in his arms.

"I'm Detective Ellison and this is my partner, Detective Sandburg. We're here about the necklace you reported missing." Jim waited for a response.

Mr. Palmer stared at the two of them, obviously confused. A voice from inside the condo reminded him of why they were there.

"Charles, those are the detectives Chief Laferty called about. Don't you remember?" A tiny, blue-haired woman moved next to her husband and smiled up at them. "Won't you come in?" She raised her glasses up to take a better look at them. "Now which one are you?"

Blair smiled and offered her his arm. "I'm Detective Sandburg. Why don't you sit down and tell us exactly what happened." Jim smiled and held the door open for Mr. Palmer, then followed him inside.

Once they were settled in the formal living room, Jim repeated Sandburg's question. "Mrs. Palmer, could you tell what happened when your necklace disappeared?" Mrs. Palmer smiled sweetly at him and rang a small silver bell. Moments later, a middle age Hispanic woman appeared.

"Rosa, dear, would you bring us some tea?" The maid nodded and without a word retreated back into the kitchen. The third repeat of the question was handled by Blair.

"The necklace?"

"My wife has plenty of jewelry, young man. She doesn't need to buy any more." The elderly man reached up to brush his hair back only to discover he was still holding his cane. After a moment's struggle, he handed the offending object to Jim and proceeded to smooth his hair back into place.

Jim looked between the Palmers, the cane and his partner, wondering when he had lost control of the situation or if he'd ever had it at all. Before he could say anything the maid quietly re-entered the room, this time carrying a large silver tray. She set it down on the gild table in front of them. Jim thrust the cane into her hand before she could move away. She just gave a knowing smile and took it back into the kitchen with her.

Mrs. Palmer clucked at her husband as she poured the tea. "Not a new one, Charles, the one I lost. These are the police officers that are helping Chief Laferty."

Mr. Palmer seemed to understand, "Chief Laferty -- a good man. You boys work for him?" or maybe not.

"Not exactly." Jim pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to ward off the headache that was threatening to take over. "Why don't you just tell us what happened."

"What happened? To Chief Laferty? Last I heard he was as fit as a fiddle." Mr. Palmer turned to his wife in confusion.

"It's all right, dear. Chief Laferty is fine; these boys are here about the necklace I lost." She patted her husband's knee.

"It's your necklace, what are they asking me for?" He turned away with his arms crossed. "Ask her."

"Yes, sir." The side of Jim's jaw twitched as he turned to the woman he was trying to interview in the first place. Before he could gather his thoughts again, she thrust a dainty teacup into his hand. The handle was too small for his finger to fit through, so he carefully held the rim as he glared at his partner who was having entirely too much fun watching the exchange. "Now Mrs. Palmer, if you could tell us, in your own words, exactly what happened when your necklace disappeared.

"Of course." She seemed inordinately pleased to have two men waiting for her words. "It was a Saturday, so Charles and I had been out to the symphony, it was a fundraiser you know, and then we had dinner at one of those charming places on the waterfront. I can't remember the name of it now, but they served the best..."

"The necklace, ma'am." Ellison was rapidly losing his patience.

"I'm getting to that, young man." She reached over and laid her hand on Jim's knee much as she had done to her husband earlier, but this time she squeezed his leg. Jim jumped, sloshing his tea. "Oh, my, what wonderful muscles. I really must introduce you to our granddaughter; she needs a big strapping man like yourself."

Jim grabbed the roaming hand and returned it to her lap, setting the teacup on the tray as he did. This time his voice bode no room for discussion. "The necklace, Mrs. Palmer?"

Chastised, the woman settled back into her seat. "Rosa had already left for the evening by the time we returned home, so I left the necklace on top of my dresser."

"Excuse me, ma'am," Sandburg interrupted, a puzzled look on his face. "Why does that have to do with putting your necklace away?"

The elderly woman blushed, much to their surprise. "I haven't been able to see those tiny numbers on the dial of the safe for ages. Rosa always opens it for us; she's been with us for years. In the morning I'm afraid we were a bit rushed getting to church and I forgot to put it back on. You see, I was wearing my black silk dress and the necklace looks so good with it." She turned back to Jim and smiled.

"Of course." Ellison didn't know what else to say that wouldn't derail the woman's story. He gave her his best smile in return and waited for her to continue.

"We were in the car before I realized that I didn't have my necklace on, and Charles wouldn't go back for it." She turned a sour look at her husband who had fallen asleep in his chair. Jim found himself envious of the elderly man.

"What time did you realize the necklace was gone?" Blair took pity on his partner and leaned into the woman's view.

"Well, let's see," she began counting her day off on her fingers. "After services we had lunch with the Reverend, then we went to see the new shelter the church is building for those poor homeless teenagers." She leaned forward and whispered, "We're funding it, you know, Charles and I."

Both Jim and Sandburg made the appropriate noises and waited for the story to continue. "After that we did some shopping then we stopped at the club. We were back home in time for Masterpiece Theater -- it's Charles' favorite show. I went in the bedroom to put things away and to get my necklace so I could put it on before the Hales came over; they always watch with us. It wasn't on the dresser, so someone must have stolen it while we were at Church. What kind of person steals from someone who is at church?"

It took Jim a minute to realize that there was a question at the end of her ramblings. "Most criminals don't care about things like that ma'am. Now, I have a few questions, if that is all right?" At her nod he continued. "How many people have a key to your condominium?"

"Charles and I, of course... and our wonderful Chief Laferty." She paused, pursing her lips in thought.

Blair tried prompting her. "What about Rosa?"

"Rosa? Of course not! We trust her implicitly, but the building has its rules."

"Rules?" Blair cut in before Jim could ask.

"All domestic workers are escorted in and out of the building at all times. We let Chief Laferty or his men know her schedule and they bring her right up to our door. At the end of her day, one of his officers walks her out to the bus stop. It's really wonderful knowing that Rosa is safe out there on the street at night."

"Yes, I'm sure it is." Blair grimaced behind the woman's back, increasingly uncomfortable with this building and it's rules. Jim just shrugged in response. As much as he hated it, policing attitudes was outside their jurisdiction. A reflection caught his attention and he focused on the elderly woman's ear.

"Mrs. Palmer, do you wear a hearing aid?"

"At our age? Of course, both my husband and I have hearing aids. Is that important?"

"We just want a complete report, ma'am." Jim neatly deflected her question as he stood up. He didn't need to enter the bedroom to know that there was a large sliding door that led to the balcony. "We'll let you know if we have any further questions."

"You do that, young man." She tugged on Ellison's sleeve, pulling him down to her height. "You need to get her some more hot tea with honey."

"Excuse me?" For not the first time on this case he was lost.

Mrs. Palmer discreetly pointed at Blair. "Her voice is so hoarse, she must have a horrible cold. You really should take care of her."

Jim bit the inside of his lip and ignored the glare he was getting from his partner. "Yes ma'am, I'll do that."

Before they made it to the door, Mr. Palmer woke up again and demanded to know who was in his home. This time Jim just shook the man's hand and introduced himself with a smile. "Jim Ellison, sir; we were just leaving."

"Ellison? I only know a William Ellison. Wild hellion, that one was." Still muttering, the old man wandered off and the two detectives escaped to the elevator.

Neither man said a word until the elevator was almost to the lobby. Blair looked straight ahead as he spoke. "I won't say a word if you don't."

Jim didn't hesitate. "Deal."

Once back at the upper lobby, they circled back around until they got to the elevator for the Tranquility tower and proceeded up. Blair glanced at the file again. "Mitchell Edmund Hawthorne III, I wonder if he's as stuffy as his name sounds?" His words were soft enough to only reach the ears of a Sentinel.

Jim just grinned at his partner, in deference to the man operating the elevator controls, but he was able to relax before they reached level 8. Once they stepped out onto the small landing between elevator and front door, they stopped and looked around for a minute. They were beginning to realize that each landing was decorated according to the taste of the owner of the condo on that floor. Ms. Erickson's had been sparse and modern, while the Palmer's had been filled with old-world antiques. This one was stark and cold. Rather than the carpet that they had seen earlier, this landing was floored in pure white marble. No area rugs softened the walk and the bright white walls glared harshly. The smell of harsh cleaning chemicals even burned Sandburg's nose.

"Dial it down, Jim. We must have just missed the cleaning crew."

"No kidding." Ellison blinked his burning eyes. "Let's get this over." He rapped on the door impatiently. When he heard a muffled voice from inside he didn't waste any time identifying them. "Mr. Hawthorne, we're here about the break-in. I'm Detective Ellison and this..." The door swung open and he lowered his voice, "is Detective Sandburg."

"Your badges, please." The short balding man held out his hand, unconsciously recreating the welcome they had had the day before. Jim forced himself not to roll his eyes as he and Sandburg showed him their identification.

Satisfied, he handed the leather cases back to their owners. "The building's management reimbursed me for my loss when it happened. Why are you gentlemen here?"

"Well, we'd like to catch whoever's responsible. There's been several burglaries in the building, and they may be connected." Jim was proud of how diplomatic he was being.

"Well, if you must," Hawthorne appeared bored by the entire thing, "but I insist that you remove your shoes."

"Our shoes?" That was not what Jim was expecting. He gave the man a better look and sure enough, he was wearing slippers. The two detectives exchanged glances and then toed off their shoes. Jim almost laughed out loud at Hawthorne's expression when he looked down at their feet. For once it wasn't his white socks that were drawing attention, it was Blair's striped ones. Eventually they were let into the condo; the plush white carpet was soft under their feet.

"I don't know what you expect to find; goblins stole my coins because they were cursed." Hawthorne carefully smoothed the white sofa before sitting down.

"Goblins?"

"Cursed?"

It was a toss-up as to which detective was more surprised, but it was Ellison that recovered first. "What makes you believe it was goblins?"

Hawthorne responded as if he were talking to a child. "It's the only explanation; after all, they never stepped on my carpet."

Jim started rubbing his forehead. "They never stepped on your carpet?"

"If you don't mind my asking, how can you tell?" Part of Blair was sure he really didn't want to know the answer, but the question was out before he could stop it.

In response, Hawthorne rolled his eyes as he spoke. "I rake my carpet every day, north to south, against the nap of course."

"Of course..." Jim glanced over at Sandburg who just shrugged his shoulders.

Hawthorne continued on, oblivious to the reaction of his interviewers. "That day, I raked right after I put the coins in the safe; there were no footprints in the carpet the next day when I went back in there.

Jim decided not to go any further with the carpet issue. "May we see where you keep your safe?"

As they followed him into what appeared to be a home office, Sandburg skimmed the files again. "Do you know if building security dusted for prints?"

Hawthorne tapped his lip as he thought over the question. "I don't think so; after all, it was Thursday."

"Thursday?" Blair decided that he really needed to get a handle of that side of his brain that was asking for answers that he didn't want to know.

"Of course; Tuesday and Thursday mornings are when I polish all the metal. Doorknobs, hinges, the safe, they were all polished that morning. I guarantee you, I didn't miss anything."

Ellison believed him. "What about the windows?"

"I clean the glass every morning." Hawthorne was obviously insulted by the question. "Doesn't everybody?"

"Not a word, Ellison." Blair's words were too soft for normal hearing to pick up, but they relaxed the stressed Sentinel.

Jim took a deep breath. "Of course sir, but we'd still like to look around."

Once inside the office the most noticeable feature, not surprisingly, was the large sliding glass door that opened onto the balcony. Jim studied the wall opposite it, paying close attention to the area nearest the safe. Undetectable to even sentinel vision until the light hit it just right was a circle where the wall had an unusual shine. Once he pointed it out, the other men could see it. Blair was proud of his partner, Hawthorne was upset that he had missed seeing it before. "You're good detective, but how does that get them into my office?"

"Simple." Jim walked over to the balcony door. "They gained access through the balcony and crawled along a rope suction-cupped to the wall. There were no footprints because they never left the rope."

By now Hawthorne seemed impressed. "Wow, you're very good, Detective."

Ellison couldn't quite keep the smug smile off his face. "Who knew about the safe?"

Hawthorne thought for a moment. "Well, let's see... Damien Vanderhorn, my business partner, of course. There's Andrew, my handyman, and Inga, the woman who comes in to do the heavy cleaning for me."

"How often is that?" Blair couldn't believe that any dirt had the chance to even land, let alone build up to require heavy cleaning. One look at his partner showed he was thinking the same thing.

Hawthorne didn't find anything unusual about the question. "Twice a week, three times if I'm going to be entertaining."

Jim shook his head and pointed out to the balcony. "Chief, let's take a look at the balcony while we're here." He turned to Hawthorne. "I suppose that's been cleaned a dozen times since the burglary too?"

"Well of course, I'm no slob."

To keep Ellison safe, Sandburg broke in. "Did you happen to notice anything out of place while you were cleaning out there?"

"Actually, yes." Hawthorne seemed lost in thought for a moment. "Now that you mention it, there were chips of paint under the railing."

This piqued the Sentinel's interest. "From your railing?"

"Of course not; I'd know if any paint was missing off my rail." Hawthorne was affronted at the thought that his property might have an imperfection.

After promising to keep him informed, the two detectives moved back to the door. Before they could leave, Hawthorne pulled a pair of tweezers out of his shirt pocket and bent down. Ellison stared in shock as a long curly hair was plucked off the white carpet and returned to Sandburg.

"I believe you dropped this."

Neither man said a word until the elevator deposited them back in the lobby. Sandburg dropped the hair on the lobby floor and began to laugh. "Man, I had it all wrong. All this time I thought I was living with Felix Unger -- turns out I've really been living with Oscar."

"Very funny." Jim tried to look insulted, but failed in the attempt. Before they made it safely outside, another resident of the building stopped them.

"You're the police officers that are here about the robberies?"

Both Sandburg and Ellison nodded, waiting for more information. The other man continued on.

"I'm Jack Wallace, I live in the Harmony tower." In a familiar gesture he stuck his hand out to Ellison.

Ellison shook the offered hand. "Harmony 1, right?" At the other man's confused look, Ellison continued. "We met your son last night. What can we do for you?"

"Well, I heard about the break-in last night and I started looking around my place -- you know?" When Ellison took out his notebook, he continued. "Part of my collection of antique snuffbottles is missing."

Jim gave the man an odd look. "You didn't miss them earlier?"

"They're not out on display. I remarried a year ago and they don't fit with my wife's decorating scheme." Wallace shifted his briefcase to his other hand to glance at his watch.

"Is it possible that they were just misplaced?" The timing of the discovery seemed a little strange to Ellison.

Blair had questions of his own. "When was the last time you remember seeing them and how many are missing?"

Wallace answered Blair's questions first. "I had them out about six months ago. The insurance company sent over an appraiser to update my policy and," he turned back to Ellison, "no, three dozen of them were not misplaced."

Jim didn't bat an eye, just continued to take notes. "What is the name of your insurance company?"

"Cascade Mutual." Wallace looked at his watch again. "I've already called them and they're sending someone out this afternoon at 2:00."

"Very good sir, now if we could take a look at your..."

"I'm sorry, but I am really running late." Wallace apologetically pointed at his watch. I'm going to be late for a meeting if I don't hurry. Why don't you gentlemen come back with the insurance people? That would be more convenient."

Jim's jaw clenched once, twice before he opened his mouth, and Blair beat him to the punch. "We'll be back then, no problem." He would have been upset by his partner's interruption, but the tight smile on Sandburg's face told him that the younger man was just as annoyed -- but he was better at hiding it. Sandburg continued, "just tell us one thing for now. The room they were kept in -- did it have a balcony?"

"No, they were in our den. That's on the other side of the condo. Is that important?" Wallace didn't wait for an answer or any further questions as he turned to go.

Jim finally found his voice as the other man walked away from them. "Egotistical a..."

"Airhead, right? The word you're looking for is airhead." This time the smile from Sandburg was genuine.

"If you say so, Chief." Ellison couldn't help but smile back.

In the truck

They made it almost half way back to the station before Jim's shoulders started to shake. Blair turned to him in concern. "Hey man, are you all right? Is it something with your senses?" The truck swung sharply into the parking lot of a local coffee shop and Blair could see that it was laughter that was making his partner shake. After a valiant effort, he too succumbed.

"Oh man, did you ever meet a guy like Hawthorne?" Blair wiped his face as he continued to laugh. "He was unbelievable."

Jim agreed. "What was unbelievable was the look on your face when he handed back that hair. I thought I was going to lose it right then." He shook his head as he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "If we have to go back there, I'm raiding your sock drawer."

"I've got a pair with toes that would be great for you." There was something in his voice that made Jim look at him.

"You don't want to wear them?"

"Nah, I've got another pair that would be even better." Blair looked at the coffee shop as he continued, "Let's grab a late breakfast before we go back to the station."

Jim didn't say anything, just shut down the engine and climbed out of the cab. Blair followed suit, not noticing the limp until they were half way across the parking lot.

"What's wrong?"

The answer was unintelligible and Blair repeated the question. Finally Jim spoke up enough to be heard. "That old biddy bruised my leg."

His admission set off another round of laughter in his partner. "Oh, injured in the line of duty; do you want help filling out the incident report? We could bring her down to the station, question her, book her for assaulting an officer..."

"Sandburg..."

"Yes, Jim?"

"Breakfast is on me."

The mood lasted until after they ordered, then Blair took the opportunity to call David Phillips at his desk.

"David, it's Blair."

"Blair, how are you?"

"I think the better question would be how's Jeff?" Blair leaned back to give the waitress room as she set his plate in front of him. Through his cell phone he heard a deep sigh.

"It's not good, Blair. He's refused all visitors today, even me." There was a pause before Phillips continued, sounding very much like a broken man. "I don't know what to do to help him."

Jim watched the younger man settle in to listen to David spill his grief and worry, his breakfast growing cold in front of him. Jim picked up the fork by Blair's left hand and speared a chunk of pancake and shoved it at Sandburg's mouth. Blair rolled his eyes, but took both the hint and the fork.

By the time Phillips was done, Blair's plate was empty and the young Shaman set his phone down with a sigh. Before Jim could offer any sympathy, Blair had picked it up and began dialing. Jim signaled the waitress for more coffee as Blair launched into an all-out effort to get Jeff Phillips put on a suicide watch.

The Truck

"You can't save everybody, Chief." Jim looked over at his despondent partner. He knew just how hard Blair had fought for Jeff's added protection. The answering words were so soft he had to dial up to hear them.

"I know. I just want to save this one."

Jim thought for a second as how to answer his partner. "As the arresting officer, you've requested a suicide watch, right?" He waited for the younger man's nod before continuing. "They can drag their feet for a few hours, but that's it. They'll have to comply with your request and that will give the psychiatrist time to help him. I know you want to do more, but you've done all you can. Are you going to be all right with that?"

Blair was quiet for a long time before he answered. "Yeah, I'll be all right; I just hope the same can be said for Jeff."