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All in the Mind 2

Episode 9 written by Janet
Original air date:

Disclaimer: The characters in the following fan fiction do not belong to me. They belong to CBS and Viacom and other powers that be. I am only using them for the purpose ofwriting this story. No money is being made from this writing it is for entertainment purposes only. And now on with the show...

PART II

Putting the phone down Jesse grinned. He knew how Steve got when a case wasn't going very well, and he wasn't at all offended by either the tone in his friends' voice or the fact that he had been cut off mid-sentence. Turning to the young woman who had recognised the picture he said, "Lieutenant Sloan is on his way and will be here very soon. Can I offer you another coffee while you are waiting?"

Emily Marshman, the young woman in question, smiled and said, "Thank you, that would be very nice. Tell me, how come you know the police officer so well?"

For a second Jesse was conscious of feeling surprised, he thought that everyone who came into BBQ Bob's knew about its owners and their alter egos. Then he remembered that Emily had only eaten there a couple of times.

"Steve and I co-own Bob's," he smiled, "we bought it a couple of years back and have been running it ever since."

"So you are here all the time?" Emily asked.

"No," Jesse answered, "I am a doctor at Community General and Steve is a police Lieutenant. We come here when we can, but we have a full time staff that run it for us."

By this time more customers had arrived and Jesse didn't get a further chance to talk.
A while later the door to the restaurant opened and Steve entered, spoke briefly to Jesse who pointed out where Emily was sitting and he walked over to her.

Emily had noticed Steve enter the restaurant and, when he went to speak to Jesse, figured out that this was Jesse's police lieutenant partner. She watched, as the two men briefly chatted and saw Steve walk in her direction. Putting down her coffee, Emily looked up and said, "Lieutenant Sloan, I presume?"

"Guilty as charged," Steve replied with a grin as he sat down in the empty seat on the opposite side of the table, "So, Miss.......?"

"Marshman," she replied, "Emily Marshman."

"Miss. Marshman," Steve said, "Jesse tells me that you recognised the picture that we have by the till. Can you tell me where you know this man from?"

"He looks like the guy who works at a dry cleaners I used to use," Emily began, "I had taken a few items of clothing in there to have cleaned and he started to hit on me. I didn't want to know but he wouldn't take no for an answer and began hassling me every time I went in there, so I changed dry cleaners."

"What is his name?"

"Malcolm Caldwell," Emily replied.

"Did you have any further problems with him?" Steve asked, looking up from where he was writing in his notebook.

"I have never seen him again," Emily replied, "not until I saw his picture next to your till."

"Can you tell me the name of the dry cleaners?"

"It's called 'Out Damned Spot," Emily grimaced as she saw Steve's face, "I know, it's awful isn't it? Literate, just awful."

"Thanks very much for your help Miss. Marshman," Steve said, closing his notebook.

Steve stood and he called out to Jesse, "See you late Jess."

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Back at the precinct Steve put the receiver back down onto its cradle a little frustrated with everything. Malcolm Caldwell had left his job and no one there knew where he had moved onto and two detectives had been despatched to stake out his apartment. Which meant, Steve thought to himself cheering up a little, that he was free this evening. He smiled and, picking up the phone again, began dialling.

Later that evening Leona felt a quiver of excitement as she drew up outside the Sloan's beach house. She had been really pleased when Steve had phoned earlier, asking her over for a meal that evening. Switching off the engine, Emily got out and made her way up the neat, red brick steps to the large, glass filled front door and knocked. There was a few seconds silence and then she heard footsteps echoing across the wooden floor inside. Instead of Steve, however, she saw a tall, silver haired man treading lightly down the steps inside towards her. Leaning forward slightly, he reached out and opened the door, smiling as he did so.

"Come in," the man said, "you must be Leona. I'm Mark Sloan, Steve's father."

Leona was a little taken aback, she hadn't taken Steve for someone who would be still living with his dad. Marks smile grew even broader as Leona's thoughts were very clearly transmitted to her face. Outsiders often found their living arrangements odd, until they got to know them a little better at least. Following Mark through the house Leona stopped dead when she stepped out onto the decking.

"Wow!" she exclaimed, "What a stunning view."

"We rather like it," Mark agreed.

Leona walked forward, leant on the railing and looked downwards.

"This is an enormous house," she said, "you must have the most humungous basement area."

"That isn't the basement," Mark corrected, "that's Steve's unit. He lives down there and I live up here."

"That's a novel arrangement," Leona said, slowly.

"It's not to everyone's taste but it suits us," Mark acknowledged.

At that moment footsteps were heard on the wooden steps coming up from the beach and a few seconds later Steve's head appeared round the bend. The first person he saw was Leona, his face broke into a smile and his voice, when he spoke, was almost a caress, "Hi there."

Leona blushed and flung a quick look at Mark to gauge his reaction, but he was busy pouring out three mugs of coffee and seemed to be taking no notice. Steve quickly closed the gap between them and pressed his lips briefly, but firmly, against Leona's.

Mark looked up just in time to catch Steve's kiss, saw Leona's reaction and decided that it would be politic to make himself scarce as soon as possible. Or, depending upon Steve's plans, give him and Leona a chance to disappear.

"So," he asked, "what plans do you have for this evening?"

"I've ordered a take-out from Bobs'," Steve replied, ignoring his fathers' 'gourmet delight' quip, before continuing, "and it should be here soon."

"I didn't know we did take-outs," Mark said.

"We don't," Steve said, "Jesse is dropping it off on his way home."

"Ooh, are you going to owe him!" Mark quipped.

"Tell me about it," Steve sounded rueful, "two extra shifts at Bobs and a ride-along in a black & white."

"Tough bargaining," chuckled Mark.

"And I wonder where he learnt it," Steve voice was heavy with irony.

All through this exchange Leona stood astonished, looking from one man to the other and back again. Luckily, at that moment, more footsteps were heard on the steps and Jesse appeared carrying a large box, which was giving off some very mouth-watering aromas.

"BBQ Bob's delivery service!" he announced putting the box, none too gently, on the table.

"Careful, Jess," Steve said, "you'll spill the sauce."

"Yeah, yeah," Jesse replied airily his gaze now firmly on Leona, a highly expectant look on his face.

Steve realised that the only way he would be able to get rid of his friend would be to introduce him. He put his arm around Jesse's shoulders and, with a slightly harder squeeze than was necessary, which was how Jesse explained it to Mark after they had left the deck, Steve began to smile..... "Leona, this is my friend and business partner, Dr. Jesse Travis. It's a shame he can't stay, he has something to do this evening."

"I do?" queried Jesse then, encountering Steve's eyes continued, "I do."

Taking pity on him, Mark stepped in and said, "Come on Jess, I'm sure that there is a movie we can find."

So saying, he shepherded Jesse through his lounge and out through the front door, picking up his jacket on the way. Steve turned to Leona and said, "Shall we eat?"

"Mmmmm, that box of goodies smells lovely," she said, sniffing the air appreciatively.

Picking up the box, Steve led her through the house and down into his unit. Whilst Steve rummaged in his cupboards for plates, glasses and cutlery, Leona emptied the contents of the box onto the table. Sitting down, she waited from Steve to come over.
He soon joined her and in a very short space of time the pile of food had diminished and their waistbands, or so Leona thought, had expanded.

Standing up, Steve held out a hand to Leona, before leading her over to the sofa.
Pulling her gently down next to him, Steve enveloped Leona in his arms, his mouth descending onto hers in a passionate kiss. They gradually moved from the vertical to the horizontal and Leona's world became a blur of kisses and caresses. Much later Leona lay stretched across Steve's lap her arms entwined around his back, which were gradually going numb, and her face nuzzled into his muscular chest. She could feel the feather light kisses that Steve was continually placing on the top of her head.
In the distance Leona heard a clock chime eleven and she struggled to sit up, a task which was made all the more difficult because Steve did not move to allow her to pull her arms out.

"Steve!" she said, "I have to go. I have an early start tomorrow."

Chuckling Steve swiftly flipped Leona so that she was lying on her back, still across his lap, dipped his head and kissed her until it didn't matter that she couldn't feel her arms.

"I still have to go," she murmured.

"I know," Steve agreed reluctantly, helping Leona to sit up.

At the front door another, lengthy, kiss helped Leona on her way to her car. Steve stood and watched as she drove off.

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Mark stood, the next morning, whistling happily to himself as he stood by the cooker. He had woken up feeling very hungry and decided to have a cooked breakfast. On the griddle in front of him lay cooking, a sausage, two rashers of bacon, a couple of sliced mushrooms and a tomato. On the counter behind him a coffee percolator stood making a gentle plop-plop noise as the water ran through the filter into the smoked glass pot underneath.

He heard footsteps behind him and, without turning, said, "Good morning son. Did you have a good evening?"

Steve responded with a resigned smile in his voice, "Yes thanks dad. How about you?"

"Jesse and I ended up going to see that Harry Potter film people have been going on about. It was actually very, very good." Mark responded.

"Is that the one about the boy wizard?" Steve asked, pouring himself a mug of coffee and taking a long drink.

"Yes." Mark said, he picked up a plate and continued, "Do you want some breakfast?"

"No thanks, dad, coffee will be fine. I'm still full after last night," Steve said, looking at his watch, "Gotta get going. I really need to make some headway on the Hamilton case today."

"Okay son," muttered Mark through a mouthful of cooked mushroom, "see you later."

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Arriving at the precinct, sometime later, Steve spent some time reading through the Hamilton case file, reviewing statements; perusing photographs. He sighed in frustration, nothing seemed to be making sense. He flicked, one last time, through the file and suddenly stopped. In front of him was a statement from a Jenny Harker, one of Fiona Hamilton's friends, taken by Detective Miller. For some reason Steve hadn't been shown it before it had been placed in the file.

Halfway down the first page was the sentence that had caught Steve's attention. It said, 'Fiona had started taking an evening class a few weeks back. She had decided that she wanted to take an extra IT qualification, thought it would help her in her job.'

Clicking his tongue in irritation Steve pulled the statement from the file and got up from his desk. Pausing only to check where Jenny Harker might be found he left the precinct and left the office with a degree of urgency. Driving through the post rush-hour traffic Steve was conscious of feeling very cross with himself. He felt that he should have thought to check through the file before that morning. He certainly should have made it clear to Detective Miller, a new and inexperienced detective, that he ought to pass on any relevant pieces of information.

After checking the sheet of paper on the seat next to him, Steve looked out of his driver's window and pulled up outside a tall apartment block. Locking his door Steve strode in through the main entrance and, after checking on the post boxes in the foyer, continued on his way up the staircase to the second floor. Walking along the corridor he stopped outside a brightly painted door and knocked. For a long while there was no sound from inside and Steve was just about to leave a note under the door when he heard slow, heavy footsteps. The door opened a fraction and a head poked around the crack, hair looking like the owners fingers had just been stuck in an electric socket and eyes barely larger than slits.

"Mmmmmm?" the voice muttered.

Holding his identification badge close enough to the, almost closed, eyes for it to be easily seen Steve spoke at the same time, "Lieutenant Steve Sloan, LAPD. Are you Jenny Harker?"

"Mmmmm," the voice responded, this time in affirmation rather than a question.

"I need to talk to you about Fiona Hamilton," Steve continued, hoping that his voice would eventually get through the haze of sleep.

Jenny Harker was trying desperately to get her brain to work and the mention of Fiona's name was the catalyst that she needed. Opening her eyes as far as she was able, Jenny opened the door fully and said, "Come in."

As Steve passed the figure behind the door he caught a glimpse of a floppy t-shirt and jog pants.

"Take a seat in the lounge Lieutenant," Jenny Harker said, "I just need to put some clothes on."

Walking through to the lounge Steve sat down on a large, comfy sofa and waited.
A few minutes later Jenny returned, dressed and more or less awake. She sat down on a chair opposite asking, "What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"

"I have a couple of questions to ask you about your statement," Steve began, " I notice that you mention Fiona Hamilton had been taking some classes in IT. Can you tell me a bit more about that?"

" Fiona had got as far as she could in our company with the qualifications that she had. But she was ambitious and wanted to go further. Someone had mentioned to her that extra IT qualifications may well help her."

"Do you have any idea of where she went for those classes?" Steve asked in the silence that ensued, due to Jenny yawning widely.

"Em......sorry," she apologised, "I have just come off of a night shift and I'm really tired."

"I'm sorry," Steve apologised as well, "I won't keep you long but I need to ask you these questions today."

"That's okay." Jenny said, "Now you wanted to know where Fiona went for her classes? I'm not totally sure, but I do know that it was fairly close to the office because Fiona said that she could walk there from work and catch a cab home after the class finished."

"Thanks," Steve replied, writing all the information down, "Did Fiona ever mention anyone that she met there? A tutor or a fellow student?"

Jenny sat deep in thought for a moment and then spoke, " There was one name that seemed to come up fairly often, Malcolm."

"Malcolm what?" Steve asked.

"I don't recall her ever mentioning his surname," Jenny asked, " Why, do you think he murdered Fiona?"

"It is simply a name that has come up in the course of our investigation," Steve said,
"and I would like to talk to him. Are you sure that you don't know exactly where Fiona went for her classes?"

"I'm afraid not," Jenny replied apologetically, "but if anything else springs to mind I'll let you know."

"I appreciate your help," Steve said, closed his notebook and stood up, "I'll let you go back to bed."

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Returning to the precinct, Steve set about the task of making a list of establishments which taught IT courses and were within walking distance of Fiona Hamilton's office building. Mercifully there were very few of them, four to be precise. Steve looked at the list on his computer screen: IT for All, Bits and Bytes, Computer Courses, Don't Ignore; Study Computing.

Steve smiled, as he appreciated the humour in the acronym made by the last one - DISC. He printed off the list and again left his desk to make his way out to the car. There were days, he reflected to himself that he would have welcomed the opportunity to just sit behind a desk for more than a few minutes at a time. Hard on the heels of that thought came another, more realistic one - he'd hate it! Despite his occasional frustrations with the demands of his chosen profession, Steve knew that he would hate being desk jockey. That was part of the reason he hadn't gone for Captain. That and the fact that his somewhat maverick attitude on occasions would not endear him to any interview panel.

Pulling up outside his first venue - IT for All - Steve entered the building. He exited through the same door roughly thirty minutes later no closer to finding Malcolm Caldwell than when he walked in. The same fate befell him at Bites and Bytes and just as he pulled up outside the third name on his list his phone rang.

Pulling it from his jacket pocket he spoke, "Sloan here."

"Steve, it's Leona," came a voice in his ear.

"Leona, Honey, can I talk to you later?" Steve responded, "I've finally got a break in the Fiona Hamilton case and I'm in the middle of following up a strong lead."

"I'm ringing you about the case," Leona replied, "I've had another 'flash'."

"What did you see?" Steve had, by this time, lost any doubts he may have had about Leona's abilities.

"I saw a logo on a computer screen. It was a circle set in a square and around the edge of the circle were four letters - D C S I."

Slowly repeating the letters to himself Steve exclaimed, "DISC! Leona you are a treasure! You have saved me some time and may have found out where Fiona met her killer. I could kiss you!"

"Well Lieutenant," she replied and Steve could clearly hear the smile and invitation in her voice, "you know where I live."

"I certainly do Miss. Gray," he said grinning, "and I will be round later to take another statement from you."

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Steve started his car up again and drove onto the final destination on his list. Turning a corner he spotted the building straight away for hanging outside was a bright neon sign. It was a yellow square with a blue circle inside and red lettering. Drawing his car to a halt as close to the main entrance as he was able, Steve drew the photofit picture from the file balanced on the passenger seat and stepped out of his car. The entrance to the building was as brightly lit as the neon sign advertising the building and Steve had to screw his eyes up a little until they got used to the light. At the far end of the foyer behind a floor-to-ceiling glass petition Steve could see ten rows of computer workstations. At each one was a student, hunched over the screen totally oblivious to anyone else around them. Looking around Steve walked up to the reception desk which, like the rows of computers he had just seen, had a brightly coloured computer sitting on top. Working at the computer was a young woman and she was busily tapping away at the keyboard. He stopped in front of her and she looked up, smiling, "Good evening sir. What can I do for you? Is there a particular course you are interested in?"

"I'm not here to sign up for a course," Steve replied, showing his ID, "I would like to see the owner please."

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No I don't," Steve replied, " I am here as part of a murder investigation."

Picking up the telephone by her right hand the young woman pressed a couple of buttons, waited a few seconds and then spoke, "Nigel? There is a police officer here and he wants to speak to you about a murder. Pardon? I forgot to ask, hang on....."

She put her hand over the mouthpiece and said "I'm sorry, can you tell me your name?"

"Lieutenant Steve Sloan."

Giving the unseen person Steve's name she finished, "Okay. I'll tell him."

Placing the receiver back on its cradle she looked at Steve and said, "Nigel will be with you in a moment."

"Thank you," he replied.

A couple of minutes later a small, bespectacled man entered the foyer through an orange door behind the reception desk. He made his way across to Steve, hand outstretched.

"Lieutenant Sloan?" Steve nodded, "I am Nigel Compton, the principal of this establishment."

"Good evening Mr. Compton," Steve replied, taking the outstretched hand and shaking it, "Is there somewhere we can go to talk?"

"Certainly Lieutenant, this way," Nigel gestured for Steve to precede him back through the door he had just used.

They walked in silence until they reached the end of the corridor and walked through a door marked 'Principal'. Both men settled themselves into chairs either side of the desk. Nigel Compton was the first to speak, "So, Lieutenant, how can I help you?

"I am investigating the murder of a young woman who, I think, was a student here."

"What was her name?"

"Fiona Hamilton."

"One second," turning to his computer Nigel brought up the student names on his screen, " Fiona Hamilton. Ah yes, she enrolled on a course to improve her spreadsheet and database skills. According to my records she only attended four sessions and then never came back."

"And you don't check up on any student that drops out?" Steve asked, somewhat incredulously.

"I run a business Lieutenant, not a Kindergarten. People pay for the course and it is up to them whether or not they attend."

Swallowing his distaste at the man's rather cavalier attitude Steve pushed the picture of Malcolm Caldwell across the desk saying, "Do you recognise this man?"

Looking at the face staring up from the desk top Nigel frowned, a look of distaste crossing his face, "Malcolm Caldwell."

"May I ask how it is that you recognise him so easily?" Steve asked curiously.

"I know him because I have had a number of complaints about him from some of the women in the class."

"So have you thrown him out?"

"No," Nigel replied, looking a little uncomfortable.

"May I ask why?" Steve queried.

"If I followed my inclinations Lieutenant I would have. However the complaints were more about his attitude rather than anything he had actually done," Nigel's eyes were drawn back to his computer screen and he said, "Caldwell is in the same class that Fiona Hamilton was on."

"Has he still been attending?" Steve questioned, hoping that his luck would hold and the answer would be affirmative.

"Yes," Nigel replied and Steve gave a silent sigh of relief.

"When is the next class for that group?" Steve wanted to know.

"Tomorrow evening at seven," Nigel replied.

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The next evening Steve was sitting outside DISC in his car, waiting for Malcolm Caldwell. Out of sight, in a nearby alley, sat a black and white awaiting Steve's call.
Steve hated stakeouts, they were so unpredictable. You planned, organised and then the bad guy did something that no one expected and all the planning went out of the window. He drained his Styrofoam cup of it's coffee and placed it carefully in the cup holder on the dashboard. Looking at his watch Steve saw that it was nearly seven. The minutes passed and just as Steve was beginning to think the evening was a bust, Malcolm Caldwell walked past his car. Steve waited until he had entered the building before he opened his car door. Radioing to the hidden black and white that he was going in Steve made his way along the sidewalk and entered the same door as he had done the previous day. Nigel Compton was hovering in the foyer looking distinctly shifty. Steve sighed to himself, he hoped that Caldwell hadn't seen that look otherwise he may well be suspicious.

Looking through the window into the large tutor room Steve easily picked out Malcolm Caldwell. He walked into the room and straight up to where Caldwell had sat down.

Holding his ID up Steve said, "Malcolm Caldwell?"

Malcolm Caldwell looked up and paled as he saw the badge but he tried to brazen it out, "What can I do for you officer?"

"Can we speak outside?" Steve requested, gesturing towards the foyer.

Once outside Steve turned to Malcolm Caldwell and said, "Malcolm Caldwell, I am arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Fiona Hamilton..........."

The rest of the caution was lost as Malcolm Caldwell flung himself at Steve, knocking him flying as he made a run for the door. He was through it before Steve could get back on his feet. Grabbing his radio from his jacket pocket Steve called, "He's on the move, get after him!"

By the time Steve had got to his feet and out onto the sidewalk however, Caldwell was on the floor in front of the black and white and one of the uniformed officers was standing over him. Running up, Steve asked, "What happened?"

"He ran straight into the car Lieutenant," the young officer's voice was a little shaky, "There was nothing I could do."

Guessing that this was probably the first time something like this had happened to the young man Steve said, "I'm sure you couldn't help it. Is he still alive?"

On receiving an affirmative answer Steve continued, "Call 911. Let's get this one to Community General as soon as possible."

Later that evening Steve entered the ER to see Jesse coming out from Trauma 1. He smiled as he saw his friend and said, " Hi Steve, how's your day been?"

"I've had better," Steve replied, "Can you tell me how Malcolm Caldwell is? He was brought in a couple of hours ago."

"He's got a broken leg Steve," Jesse replied, "We've set it, admitted him and there is a guard on his door."

"Thanks Jesse," responded a very relieved Steve.

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The next morning Steve awoke early and, after a quick breakfast, drove to the hospital in order to question Malcolm Caldwell. After his attempted escape of the previous evening Steve wasn't sure how easy the interview was likely to be. However, the escape had been Caldwell's last gasp effort at avoiding responsibility for what he had done. Sometime during the long hours of the night he had come to a realisation that he could no longer hide from the consequences of his actions. By the time Steve arrived at the hospital Caldwell was ready to give him a full confession.

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"It was like someone had turned a tap on dad," Steve said the next day, as he sat in the doctors lounge along with Jesse and Amanda, "Caldwell couldn't stop talking. According to him he didn't mean to kill Fiona. They went back to his apartment after their date at Bob's, things got out of hand and she fell and hit her head. He panicked, dumped her body in the boot of her car and took it to the car crushing yard."

"He didn't mean to kill her!" Jesse snorted, "We've all heard that one before."

"It's not for us to judge Jess," admonished Mark, "that's what the justice system is there for."

"Mmmmmm," Jesse did not sound convinced.

"How did he get into the car yard, son?" asked Mark.

"It belongs to his brother-in-law and Caldwell is a registered key holder in case of an emergency," Steve replied.

"Did the brother-in-law know?" Amanda queried.

"No," Steve smiled at the memory, "he had absolutely no idea and from the language he used I suspect that Caldwell should be very grateful he is already in custody."

"So what will happen now?" Jesse wanted to know.

"Caldwell will be charged and, when he is fit enough, he will be moved to the secure hospital wing at the prison."

Mark silently stood and walked across to the window.

"Dad?" Steve was concerned.

Mark sighed, "I was just thinking about Fiona's parents. They've got the dubious satisfaction of knowing who murdered their daughter but they have still got to come to terms with that loss. That is going to be hard."

A silence fell over the room as everyone remembered the time when Carol, Mark's only daughter, had been murdered. It had taken all of them a long time to get over it.
Mark turned and smiled, "It's going to be hard for them but, if they have the support that we had, I know they will get through it."

Steve walked across to his dad and tenderly laid a hand on his shoulder.

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A few nights later Leona was curled up on her sofa, watching a slushy romance and tucking into a large bowl of popcorn when her phone rang. Placing the bowl on the seat next to her, she reached over the back of the sofa and picked up the phone.

"Leona Gray."

"Hi, Honey," Steve's voice slid down the phone into her ready waiting ear, "What are you doing this evening?"

"I'm snuggled up on the sofa, watching a movie and eating popcorn."

"Sounds fun," Steve replied, "Is there room on the sofa for another one?"

"Of course there is, come on over."

At that moment her doorbell rang.

"Hang on, Steve," Leona said, "there's someone at the door."

Leona stood and padded across the floor to answer the door. She opened it and found herself looking up into a pair of smiling blue eyes. For a second she stood, looking from the phone in her hand to the man towering in her doorway. Then she smiled and, lifting the phone to her ear, said, "Come in, Steve."

Steve smiled too as he stepped through the door. He took the phone from Leona's hand and enveloped her in his arms carrying her across to the sofa.

The film carried on playing and popcorn sat, uneaten, in the bowl.

Neither Steve nor Leona took any notice.

THE END

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