“Huh? What do you mean?”
“I mean you’re married to a detective, honey. Your ‘adoptive’ parents are high-ranking police officers. All your closest friends are investigators at various levels. All you have to do is ask. We’ll be there for you. We’ll help you conduct background checks, or recommend good people to bring on board, or whatever you need. We’re there. All of us.”
“Well, you are, anyway.”
“NO! I mean all of us. We already talked last week! Me, an’ Colonel Peterson, an’ Stefan an’ Gene an’ Pete an’ Roger an’ Tim, Darrell, Rich, Johnny, Hugo, an’ Alan! We had a damn division meeting about it! Hell, Maia even pinged Amundsen and Haptman – who are finally almost through with that away case, by the way – and even they said they’d do what they could to help you! And glad of it, every last damn one of us, if for no other reason than we get a new, uncorrupt IPD Headquarters to deal with!” she exclaimed. “Then, when you add in the fact that it’s you doing it? Nick, sweetie, there’s almost nothing The Team wouldn’t do for you. You oughta know that by now. Because there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for them. And we all know it. Every last damn one of us. We. Know.”
“Oh,” Nick said softly. “Oh.”
“So now I want you to just relax about all that,” Cally told him. “You can worry about it once we get back home and settled into the new place. No more shop talk until we do get back home! For right now, we’re on our wedding trip.”
And she kissed him, slowly and thoroughly, arching so that soft, naked breasts pressed against his bare chest.
When she finally broke the kiss, his arm tightened around her, and he grunted once.
“Mmph. Well, that changes things…” he muttered.
“Changes what? How you’re looking at the job?”
“No. I was gonna agree with you – enough shop talk, let’s get some sleep,” Nick explained. “But after that kiss, now I got other ideas…”
And he pulled her close, as she giggled.
Rebuilding
A week later, newly-minted IPD head Lee Carter and his wife, Imperial City Police Colonel Maia Peterson, Deputy Chief of Investigations, had joined IPD Investigations lead Detective Dominick Ashton and his bride, recently promoted ICPD Detective Cally Ames, at their new place for dinner.
“Wow,” Maia said, as Nick let the older couple in. “Nick, you have got a helluva tan, baby boy ours. You’re almost as dark as I am!” She laughed; unlike her husband, who was medium-skinned with brown hair going gray, Maia’s complexion was a rich mahogany, with eyes so dark they were almost black.
“Heh,” Nick chuckled. “You should see Cal. Talk about your blonde bombshells, I’m married to a golden girl.”
“And loving every minute of it, I bet,” Lee grinned.
“No argument there. C’mon, Cal’s in the kitchen.”
Cally, who was an amazing French chef in her off hours – thanks to her father’s passing on his heritage and the family recipes – was making dinner, while the others sat around the bar overlooking her workspace in the kitchen of their new home – which was not the apartment either of them had been living in during their courtship. Promotions, as Nick had noted, combined with double incomes and a temporarily-enhanced salary on his part, meant an upgrade was possible, and they were now the owners of a very nice middle-income, three-bedroom-suite condominium. This allowed for overnight visits from family and friends who lived farther away, and they were pleased to have gotten it for an excellent price.
“So how is the chieftainship going, Lee?” Ashton asked. “I can report in that Investigations is getting there, slowly but surely. I even talked my old roommate, Peter Stone, into coming back and signing on.”
“I dunno, Nick,” Carter said, shaking his head. “I’m thinking that there’s several things that need to be done…”
“Do you need a sounding board, Lee?” Cally wondered, as she sautéed a pan of mushrooms in olive oil with copious quantities of garlic; a delicious fragrance wafted through the room. “You have three more rather experienced police types sitting right here to provide advice and ideas, you know. Nick has been making use of The Team, as it is. You’re welcome to pick as many brains as you like.”
“Yeah,” Ashton agreed. “Everything Cal said. We’re more than happy to help you, if you need recommendations or suggestions, or whatever.”
“Eh, I dunno,” Carter sighed. “You guys have more than enough on your plates as it is. I hate to load you with my stuff, too…”
“Nuh-uh, Lee. That won’t do. We’re all here, and we’re all willing. Spill it, honey,” Peterson said, elbowing her husband.
“Okay, okay. Maybe you’re right; I do need to bounce the stuff off somebody. See, I’m just thinking that we need to distance ourselves, in an obvious fashion, from what came before,” Carter noted. “Both in nomenclature and in structure. And frankly, from what I can tell, Emperor Trajan agrees. Or at least likes the idea.”
“For instance?” Ashton asked.
“Okay, lessee. Well, in structure, I was thinking we needed a flatter hierarchy. It was the top-heavy big shots that were the main source of the problem, and it filtered down from there. If we have fewer management types and more get-out-there-and-do’ers, I think we stand less danger. Not none, but less.”
“I can see that,” Peterson said. “ICPD has a flatter structure, and always has had, and we do pretty well in that regard. Whenever somebody gets his snoot in the air, we take ‘im down a few pegs – or replace ‘em – and we move on.”
“Exactly,” Carter said. “So I’ve been thinking something more like that. In fact, that ability in ICPD is what gave me the
