By Ashlee Farris ([email protected])

Story: This story takes place during the first season of Homicide, right after the episode
“Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.” This is a work of fan fiction, using the characters from the
NBC series, “Homicide: Life on the Street” and is not intended to make anyone sue me.
All rights belong to NBC and the creators of the series.

Bio: Ashlee is a long-time fan of the NBC show, "Homicide: Life on the Street."
She is employed in the education sector, married, and has one daughter.  She lives in
the Southern US, if Kyle Secor is interested.

___________________________________________________________________

Tim sat in the white Cavalier, tossing a cigarette pack from hand
to hand. Where is Frank?, he wondered. He looked plaintively at the
cellophane tongue of the package, just begging to be pulled. The feel of
the box, the scent of the tobacco…. Ah. Tim wrestled with his addiction,
debating endlessly with himself about opening the pack. A major emotional
drama, unfolding there in the Thames Street Garage.

You know you want a cigarette said his practical side. But you know it's
a filthy, disgusting habit. Your lungs will thank you if you toss that pack
in the trash, replied his health-conscious side. Funny how that side sounded
just like his mother.

“I should just decide, and be done with it,” Tim said to the empty car.

“Like… Kay Howard. Kay quit a month ago, and hasn't slipped yet. When Kay
makes a decision, Kay sticks with it. Not like me. I buckle.” Tim idly
turned the pack over and over in his hands. And waffled. Tim wavered like
heat coming off summer asphalt.

“Bayliss! What are you doing?”, Frank shouted.

“I'm waiting for you, Frank.” Tim spoke cautiously, and with some
confusion. Frank seemed a little strained, but that was normal for Frank.

“I have been waiting, Bayliss. For you. For more than ten minutes. Have
you forgotten that some trail grows ever cooler while you sit here, wasting
my time,” Frank thundered at him. “Come on,” Frank ground out, and turned
back the way he came.

Tim exited the car, and hurried after him. “You said that you were going to
meet me by the car, so that's where I was,” Tim puffed, jogging behind the
stalking Pembleton.

“Again, Bayliss, you have erred. I specifically told you that I was going to
*get keys for a car*. You, I had assumed, would remain at your desk until I
returned. You were supposed to be filling out the paperwork on the Bennett
case. “ Frank jabbed the keys into one of the many white Cavaliers. The
keys didn't seem to work. Frank looked at the tag on the keys.

“Did Felton switch these damn things again?” Frank grumbled as he fumbled
with the keys. He glared around, as if expecting Beau Felton to pop up,
Jack-in-the-Box style from behind another car, smiling impishly.

Bayliss felt relief as the keys slid home and Frank settled behind the
wheel. Trust me to have been in the wrong car, Tim thought. Please don't yell
at me, Tim pled silently as he fiddled with the cigarette package. He did not need
a harangue from Frank today about his lack of want of a partner.

“I thought it would be faster if I met you down here,” Tim ventured. And
immediately wished he hadn't. The look on Frank's face spoke volumes.
Encyclopedia Britannica-size volumes. Tim imagined that Frank's wife thought
he was either an idiot who was cashing in on his connections from the Mayor's
Security Detail, or the most inept greenhorn detective ever, and just Frank's
cross to bear. Hell, it might even be true, Tim thought.

Frank swerved suddenly, snatching Tim's worry-stone package of cigarettes out
of his hand. The car lurched to a halt, with Tim getting a close-up of the
windshield in the process. Frank tossed the cigarettes out of the now open
window and gunned the engine. The car careened back into traffic.

“Either you smoke or you don't. You dither, Bayliss. Old ladies and fussy
matrons who knit dither.” Frank ground out.

Tim stared, speechless, at Frank for a few seconds. Frank drove placidly on.
“I cannot believe you just did that, Frank,” Tim managed.

“Why? I was tired of seeing your MELTdown occur in front of me. This way, I
am not suffering for your lack of conVICtion.” It was amazing, Bayliss thought,
the way Frank enunciates when he's pissed off.

Frank made a right turn, and pulled to the curb. There was a young female officer,
standing in front of what was obviously the location they were seeking.

”Where's…..” Frank began to demand, but the young, and slightly queasy
looking, officer mutely pointed toward the staircase. Frank and Tim clomp up
the stairs to find Scheiner over a prone woman in a shabby apartment. A lab
technician knelt near the body, wrapping plastic bags around the hands.
Frank looked at Scheiner, and jerked his thumb at the vic.

“What's her problem?” Frank asked.

“Other than bein' dead?” Scheiner quipped. “No gaping wounds, and since
her pantyhose are where they should be, and not around her neck….I don't
know. We'll have to check the toxicology. Bet it's a drug murder.”

“Everything's a drug murder to you, Scheiner.” Frank ventured.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Crosetti sat on his desk, talking to his partner.

“See -that's the problem. Aliens probably *have* contacted us, but with
them bein' so much more advanced, we just didn't understand them. What if
they were trying to contact us by radio wave, but before we had thought of
radio?”

“Either that, or they were turned off by Big Band and swing,” Munch cracked
from across the squadroom.

Lewis turns to Crosetti. “Get off the Hergenrader file, salami-brain. I need those for court.”

Lewis shuffled through the papers on the desktop. “Where'd my pen go?

Anybody seen my pen?”

“Here. Take this one,” Crosetti said.

Tim and Frank enter the squadroom. Munch spies them, and calls out:

“There's a message here from Scheiner-the labs are back on that Dawson
woman.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Scheiner was bent over a table with his back to the door when Tim walked in.
Scheiner turned, chewing a mouthful of food. Tim blanched slightly.

“How can you eat in here?” Tim asked.

Scheiner looked at Tim and snorted. Frank entered through the double doors.

“Is green your lucky color?” Scheiner directed his comments to Frank. Frank
looked puzzled, and Scheiner smiled. “Your greenhorn partner was lookin'
slightly green here. Thought it might be a pattern.”

“Do you have the toxicology on Caroline Dawson?” Frank asked Scheiner.

“Mmm-hmm,” mumbled Scheiner around another mouthful of sandwich. “Seems like
it *wasn't* a drug murder. 'Least not the way I thought.”

“Don't act so disappointed, Scheiner,” Frank said absently.

“She's got lots of track marks. 'Swhy I thought it was drug-related. Mosta this stuff
alone coulda killed her, or least make her real sick,” Scheiner began. “I found traces
of arsenic, bleach, lye, and a few other lovely things. What killed her this time was not an
injection, though. All these punctures you see here,” Scheiner said as he
threw back the sheet and gestured, “all these are old. What killed her was a
plant. Oleander. Don't know how she ingested it, but I assume orally.”

“Do you think it was self-inflicted, or homicide?” Tim asked.

Scheiner snapped, “You're the detective, Bayliss. *You* figure that out.”

Frank shot a look at Bayliss that promised grievous bodily harm if he uttered
another syllable. He turned to Scheiner. “When was the time of death?”

“Is that important?” Scheiner grumbled.

“Isn't it always?” Frank countered. “You know Giardello - leave no stone
unturned while the Board is red. If that's not in my report, that will be
the one question that is foremost in his mind.”

Scheiner groused, “That man's gonna be the death of me.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lewis tossed the football from hand to hand as he waited for the results on a
print check for Kay. Felton, as usual, was nowhere to be seen.
Goldbricking again, thought Lewis.

Crosetti hove into view, like a stout galleon pulling into berth.

“Salami-brain!” shouted Meldrick. “Just the little round man I was looking
for!”

Crosetti stopped short. “I ain't taking any more of your shifts, ya lazy
bum. No way, no how.”

“Aw, I'm hurt. Truly I am,” Lewis assumed an injured air. “And here, I
was gonna let you in on my good fortune.”

“Geez, Meldrick. I told you that I wasn't interested in that diaper thing.”

Lewis hurried around his desk toward Crosetti. “Nah, man. I got me an idea
for a portable cart that sells crabcakes. I figure Bawlmer's famous for
'em…..tourists would grab 'em up. My Grandmoms could cook 'em.”

Crosetti hung his head.

“And, if it's successful, we could open a restaurant,” Lewis continued.

“So, whaddya say? Partner?”

“Like I *need* salmonella poisoning.” Crosetti grumbled.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kay Howard loped to her desk, looking through a file. She rummaged for a
pen in the shambles of her desk. “Gotta clean this up…” she mumbled.

Kay thumbed through the report in the file, wondering if Felton had ever gotten
hold of that suspect that he supposedly gone searching for this morning. Huh,
thought Kay. Maybe they're doing that Neutron Test thingie again. Felton would
stick around for that.

Kay asked to the room at large, and without much success, “Anybody seen Beau?”

“Was on the crapper, last I saw,” Crosetti finally said.

Great, thought Kay. And they say we're always the ones in the john.
She turned to Crosetti. “Lewis ever get a hold of that print check for me?”

Crosetti shrugged. “Why don'tcha ask him?” As Crosetti turned back to his desk,

Kay muttered “Charm City, all right.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Oleander. Oleander is a plant that grows in warmer regions, and often as
a houseplant. Oleander is similar to digitalis,” Bayliss read, around the pencil
he was currently chewing and mangling. He turned to Frank. “Did you know,
Frank, that the plant is highly toxic, but is used as landscaping? The report here
says that about 30 or 40 leaves could kill an adult horse. Wonder how much
Caroline Dawson had in her system?”

Frank looked at Tim. “Why don't we concentrate on who killed her, and then
we'll ask the guy how many leaves he stuffed down her. Have you located the
husband yet, by the way?”

“No. Still trying to track him down. There's no man named Dawson on a rent
agreement anywhere in the building. I set a uniform to wait for him.” Tim looked
down at the report on oleander in his hand. “Hey, Frank? It says here that oleander
has a real nasty bitter taste to it. Wonder how he got her to take it? Assuming it's
the husband.”

Frank took a drag on his cigarette. “Love begins at home.”

-----------------------------------------------------

Scheiner pointed to the scale where some of Caroline Dawson's remains now rested.
“Liver was what I called you about. Your girl here was a diabetic. Guess that's why
all the track marks. She woulda been insulin dependent. But, as you see here by the
size of this here liver, she wasn't gettin' too much of it. Something was interfering with
the process. Most likely all that other crap I told you I found.”

“How come you didn't notice the liver before?”

“Bayliss, you wanna take a look in there, and see if you can tell me what end's up?
'Cause when you can, maybe then you can gripe to me about stuff I might not catch
right away. Or, are you gonna puke all over her? That ain't gonna go down too well
with the family.”

Tim turned on his heel and walked through the double doors. Where in hell are
cigarettes when you need them, he thought.

-------------------------------------------------------

“Man's name is Joseph Tau,” said Officer Salerno. “Said he was out at work,
and wants to know why there's cops all over, and he can't get into his apartment.”

“Thanks,” said Pembleton. “Mr. Tau, do you know a Caroline Dawson?”

The thin man's face paled. “Yes, she's my wife. Has something happened to her?
Is she okay? Where's Caro?”

“I'm sorry to tell you, sir, but Ms. Dawson's down at our medical examiner's office.
She was found dead here earlier. We're really very sorry. Could you accompany us
to make an identification?” Pembleton moved to the door of the car. “Sir, we really
need your help in finding out what happened to your wife.”

“I don't understand,” the man wailed. “She was fine this morning!
What happened to her?”

“Let's make sure it's her first, sir.”

---------------------------------------------------------------

Lewis waved something under Crosetti's nose. “Hey! Salami-brain! Wake up! Taste this!

“What? Huh? What the hell is this, Lewis, and why'd you shove it into my mouth?
What you tryin' to do, kill me?”

“It's a crabcake! 'Member, I told you I was thinking about makin' 'em to sell
to tourists? How are they? Good, right? I told you my Grandmoms could cook.
Good enough to make you slap your Mama!” Lewis chuckled at the sight of
Crosetti with cheeks full of crabcake, like a squirrel storing nuts for winter.

“Man! Way too much pepper!” Crosetti hurried to the water fountain. “Damn!
Tell her to lighten up, and they won't kill nobody.”

“Maybe that's the I-talian in you, Crosetti. You don't like it unless it's got lotsa garlic.”

“Okay, Lewis,” growled Crosetti. “That's another memo to Gee. Is crabcake hyphenated?”

“I dunno. Is jerk-face?” Meldrick Lewis smiled and sailed out the door.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Joseph Tau sat in the Box. He was hot, tired, and run through the emotional wringer.
“I just identified my wife in the morgue,” he said to the two detectives across from him,
“And you think I killed her?”

“Well, Mr. Tau. It does look suspicious, “ said the taller of the two, Detective Bayliss.

“Do you really think I could kill my own wife?” Tau looked stricken by the thought.

Pembleton looked mildly at the man across from him on the hard metal chair.
“Sir, we've seen people killed for a lot less. Wives, kids, husbands, parents.”

“Strangers. And for stupid reasons, but ones that matter to the killer,”
Bayliss said. “To start with, where were you today?”

“I was down at the bakery, where I work,” said Tau.

Frank asked, “What bakery? Where? From when to when?”

“Gottleib's. It's my family's. I work from eleven a.m. to about seven p.m.
I'm a baker. My family has owned the place since I was small.”

Bayliss broke in. “Do you know anyone who would want to kill your wife?
Did you have expensive things in your apartment? Was anyone angry with her?
Did she have any enemies?”

“No! Everyone loved Caro. I couldn't imagine who would want to kill her.”

“Are you having problems in your marriage? Could she be seeing someone
else?” Frank tapped his pen on the legal pad in front of him.

“No. We've only been married two years. We met at the bakery. She likes
my mother's butterhorns. I just don't understand all this.”

Bayliss looked thoughtful. “Mr. Tau, why didn't your wife use your name?
I mean, isn't that sort of an insult?”

Tau looked sheepish. “No, Caro wasn't like that. She just hadn't gotten
around to changing everything over. Most people called her Mrs. Tau,
but we just didn't have enough money to get everything changed over just yet.
I don't make all that much, and Caro was looking for work.”

“Mr. Tau, our records indicate that your wife was poisoned. With a lot of
different solutions. And, we think you are the one responsible. Do you have
any large insurance policies out on her?” Bayliss paced restlessly around Tau's chair.

“No! No! I couldn't hurt my wife! I loved her! Everyone did! How on earth
was she poisoned? I just don't understand!”

“Well, she ingested a plant called oleander,” Frank began.

Bayliss continued, “Along with bleach, lye, and something like Mister Clean.
You musta really wanted her dead.”

“Do you have any oleander in your apartment?” Frank asked. “Green plant,
with long, leathery feeling leaves?”

Tau blanched, and then looked down at the scarred table. “No. We don't have plants.
I can't seem to take care of them. They all die on me.”

“Yeah, well, so did your wife,” said Bayliss.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Crosetti banged on the stall door. Gee better do something about those
damn slack-ass custodians! “Hey! Anybody out there,” he yelled. “I need
some paper!” Meldrick Lewis is a dead man. And I'm gonna hurt Grandmoms, too.

Detective DeSilva wandered in, looking for the source of the noise.
“Whoo! Light a match!”

“DeSilva? That you? Hey, man! Hand me some paper, willya? The damn
custodians don't keep this place stocked!”

DeSilva grunted, “Man, after you been in here, I don't wonder! Nobody
brave enough to take this for long.” He threw a roll over the stall and beat
a hasty retreat.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Howard looked through the one-way mirror at Frank, working his magic
in the box with Joseph Tau. Bayliss leaned his forehead against the cool glass.

“I don't know.”

“Know what, Bayliss?” She looked at Bayliss, worried. He's been keeping
late nights, worrying about Adena Watson. I hope he doesn't crack.

“I don't know if he's the killer. I thought he was, thought we had him.
But, I just don't know anymore. Maybe I'm not the thinking cop I thought
I was.” Bayliss stared blankly through the mirror, seeing nothing.

“Bayliss. It's not just you in there, hmm? Frank's in there, too.” Howard
pointed at Frank, who was talking in low tones to Tau, gesturing with a
hand. “It'll come. All of it. The Watson case, too.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Frank narrowed his eyes at the slim, slightly scruffy looking man. “You
know more than you're telling us. I can see it in your eyes. We'll find out
what it is. We always do. Why don't you just tell us now? Why'd you kill
her? Love? Money. It's hard to be young and married. There's not much,
and never anything left over. Can't imagine you get paid much, even if you
do work for kin.”

“It's not like that,” Tau said. “We got along okay. We didn't do much extra
stuff, but Mom fed us a lot, and we were happy. Caro was looking for work.”

“So, why'd you look so spooked when I said oleander?” Frank looked
him full in the face. “Huh? Didn't think we'd find that? You'd be surprised
at what science can do.”

“No,” Tau began. “It's just that….”

“It's what, Joseph? That you thought all the other chemicals would cover
the real cause of death up?”

“No! No. It's just this old legend my Mom told me.”

“Oh, a legend. One of those Hansel and Gretel type things?” Frank shifted
in his chair.

“I'd better not say anymore,” the young man mumbled. “I don't want to….
say… anything else right now.”

Bayliss sauntered into the room.

“Looks like we're taking a break, Detective,” Frank tossed over his
shoulder at Tim. “Mr. Tau has said that he doesn't wish to say anymore.”

“Oh, that's too bad, “Tim began. “Just when I was beginning to feel that
we had collared us the wrong guy. I'll just go call the D.A's office, and
we can escort him to a cell.”

“A cell? You mean I'm under arrest? Even though I told you that I didn't
kill her?” Tau backed toward the wall. “I don't like the idea of being in a
cell! I didn't do it, you have to believe me!”

“I'm sorry, but you haven't given us any reason to believe you, and it's
not like your Mom is gonna give you up if we ask her if you were working
this morning.” Bayliss moved toward the door. “Frank, do you think I
should call Danvers, ask him to prioritize this case? We can't have a mad
poisoner loose.”

“Naw, Bayliss. Why don't we see if Mr. Tau has decided to tell us what
he knows? Maybe he didn't kill his wife after all.” Frank paused, and
looked at Joseph Tau. The man looked drained.

“It's not possible. It's not possible. She couldn't have. She said she loved
her, too.” Big tears welled up in Tau's eyes. “Please, no.” The tears spilled
over, and made tracks down his cheeks.

“What? What is it?” Bayliss leaned forward “You know who hurt Caroline?”

“She couldn't have. She wouldn't have. She's my mother for God's sake!”

Frank snapped to attention. “Your mother? She killed your wife? Why?”

Tau looked up, startled. He didn't seem to realize that he'd said that part
out loud. “Mother was always talking about fattening Caro up. Said that
the diabetes had left her too thin to make healthy children. She made her
special treats, no sugar, she said. They would help build her up. Do you
think she was putting stuff in the treats that hurt Caro?”

“Why would your mother do that?” Bayliss looked at Joseph Tau, and
wondered if he was the son of a killer.

“Mother thought I was too young to get married. She was angry that Caro
wasn't German. She wanted to find me a nice young German girl, one who
could help in the bakery, but Caro couldn't even boil water.” Tau smiled
through his tears. “We met in the bakery because she used to stop in to
get pastry for breakfast. She said if she didn't eat breakfast, she wouldn't
eat at all.”

“What about this legend you mentioned earlier,” Frank asked.

Shocked back into the present, Tau looked up at the detectives. “German
housewives keep oleander plants near the kitchen window. It's said to bring
good luck. It's tradition. I was surprised when you mentioned it. I asked her
to give one to Caro when we got married, but she said no, Caro isn't German,
and she wouldn't understand.

Bayliss looked at Frank. “Let's go see Mrs. Tau.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gottleib's Bakery was a homey little place, just near the Inner Harbor.
The place was warm, and smelled of delicious things, just taken out of
the oven. The shelves were lined with pastries lying on waxed paper.
When the two detectives entered, a young girl stepped out of the back room.

“Can I help you? We're running a special on day-old Pumpernickel.”
The girl smiled shyly at Bayliss.

Frank moved toward the counter, flashing his badge. “No, miss. We're
here to see the owner, Mrs. Tau.”

“Oh. Uh - she's in the kitchen. Let me get her for you.”

There were voices in the back room, and a stout woman with long braided
grey hair came into the front of the bakery.

“Yes? I am Elke Tau. I could help you? Something is wrong with Joseph?”

“No, ma'am. His wife. She's been found dead this afternoon in her apartment.”
Frank leaned closer to the counter. “We need to speak with you.”

Mrs. Tau took off her apron, and handed her keys to the young girl. “Alison,
you will have to close the store tonight. Make sure you sweep, and take home
a kugel for your mother.”

The girl, Alison, looked panicked, but said nothing. She nodded, and looked
down at her shoes. Mrs. Tau turned, and looked at the two men.

“Yes, I will come with you.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meldrick Lewis smiled. He loved it when a plan came together. After Crosetti's
reaction to his crabcake, Lewis had called his Grandmoms, and told her to make
three dozen. He was going to pass them around the station, and see what everyone
thought. He was on his way to pick them up now. He parked his Cavalier. Only on
the curb a little, he thought. He had finally found something to make him money, and
not even the lousy parking in Baltimore was going to make him cranky today.

“Grandmoms! You here?” Lewis swung open the storm door, and walked into
his Grandmoms' living room. “Huh. Where'd she go?” Lewis smelled the crabcakes,
o she couldn't be too far away.

“Meldrick, honey? That you? Oh, I'm hurting something awful,” came a voice
through the bathroom door. “I think maybe the crabmeat was bad. I'm having
terrible stomach pains. Lucky we hadn't fed them to nobody yet.”

Except the Salami-brain, Lewis thought. Oh, am I in deep now.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mrs. Tau sat at the same scarred table where her son had sat just an hour before.
She was calm, and looked around quietly at the room.

“Mrs. Tau? We have a few questions for you. About Caroline,” Bayliss looked
at the woman. She could be someone's grandmother. She looked like Mrs. Claus.
How could Mrs. Claus be a stone killer?

“I did it. I killed her. She was not good for my son. He should be with a good
girl. She was not like us. I'm sorry I had to hurt her, but my son would not let her go.”

Frank looked at the woman. “Mrs. Tau, you understand that you're confessing
to killing your daughter-in-law. Do you want a lawyer present? Are you sure
that you want to be saying this?

“Yes. I killed her. I put things in her food. Things I thought would make her sick.
Sick enough to go away, and leave my Joseph alone. But she did not get sick.
I did not want to wait. She might try to have a baby with my son.”

“And you didn't want that,” Bayliss said quietly.

“No. She was not good enough for my Joseph. Joseph needed a German girl.
One who is strong, not like this Caroline. This girl, this Caroline, she does not
even cook! How will my Joseph be with a wife like that? Her and her silly name.
Caro.” Mrs. Tau sniffed. “So, I put things in the treats, and told her they would
make her strong.” Elke Tau looked steadily at the detectives. “Mother does all
for her son. Love begins at home.”

********