Overdue
by Pho
Jim Ellison stared in disbelief at the newest folder on his desk. Grand theft - books? There *had* to be some mistake. Standing quickly, he strode stiffly across the bullpen to confront his boss. He knocked rapidly on the door, and proceeded to enter without an invitation - a sure sign of trouble to come. "Simon!"
"Don't you ever knock, Ellison?" The rough tones of Simon Banks intimidated just about everyone, excluding, of course, ex-rangers, small children and oblivious anthropologists.
Jim ignored the question and thrust the file folder under the captain's nose. "Books, Simon? *Library* books? Since when are having a few overdue books a crime?"
"You haven't read the report." It was not a question.
The detective had the good grace to look slightly embarrassed. "Well, not all the way through."
Simon leaned back, pursed his lips and templed his fingers. "First of all, before you protest an assignment I suggest you read it in its entirety. Since you haven't, I'll just take a moment to point out that there are two hundred and seventeen books that are overdue. Some for as long as five years."
"Two hundr--"
"And seventeen. You heard correctly. Approximate value at an average twenty-two dollars a pop is--"
"Four thousand seven hundred seventy four dollars. I can do the math." Jim sighed. "But, but books?"
"Not everything can be as exciting as a drug dealer, Ellison." The stoic captain managed, barely, to keep a straight face as his disgruntled detective reluctantly shrugged and returned to his desk, muttering something about 'bookworms'. Not for the first time, did Simon wish for at least Sentinel hearing.
******
"Uh, Jim," Blair Sandburg snugged his seatbelt a little tighter as his partner took a curve a little too sharply. "You've never said where we're going."
"To make an arrest, Chief; thought it would be obvious."
"O..k..ay." Blair frowned as he picked up on the older man's obvious ill-humor. Time to walk, and talk, carefully. "What kind of arrest?"
"Grand theft."
"Oh cool!" Blair's long hair jiggled as the anthropologist bounced with excitement. "Cars, jewelry, what?"
"B(*&." Jim replied softly.
Blair glared at him suspiciously. "*I* do not have Sentinel hearing, Jim, how about repeating that?"
"Books. Grand theft books."
"Books." Blair looked thoughtfully out the window. "Okay, I can go with that. Rare books are expensive in the--"
"Library."
"What?"
"Not rare. Library. Library books. Overdue."
The younger man gaped in astonishment. "We're arresting some poor geek--"
"I thought you didn't like that word."
"Only applied to me. As I was saying, we're arresting some poor geek because his *library* books are overdue? Of all the--"
"It's more than that, Sandburg. Some of them have been overdue for five years--"
"So the fine would be rather heavy. I can see that, but..."
Jim shook his head. "Well there is that, but the real problem is that he's got two hundred and seventeen books out on loan, checked out under thirty some-odd different names."
"Two hundred seventeen? Under different names?" Blair replied weakly.
"You got it, Chief."
"But, but, *how* did they find him?"
"The library decided to do a crackdown on overdue books and pulled a computer list of all books overdue more than thirty days. Then to make it easier on their staff, who was going door-to-door..."
"You're kidding. Door-to-door?"
"Nope, the new head of the local library decided that a personal approach would be best in retrieving their property. Anyhow, when the sort turned up the same address but all those different names, someone had the brains to call Major Crimes. The rest, as they say, is history."
"Terrific. We're going to arrest a bookworm."
"They can't all be drug dealers, Chief." Jim smirked as he parked the truck so that it blocked the driveway of a non-descript, but well-maintained little house. "We're here and no, you don't have to stay in the truck. As a matter of fact, I *insist* that you come with me. With that number of books, I might need an interpreter."
Blair tried to conceal his boredom as he followed his partner to the door, after all, one had to take the tedious with the thrilling in the world of closed societies. He sighed unconsciously as Jim rang the doorbell. This was one arrest where ...
All hell suddenly broke loose as the detective identified himself as Cascade PD. Within seconds, Blair found himself ducking for cover inside his partner's truck, screaming, "Officer needs assistance, shots fired," at the top of his lungs.
******
Simon Banks raced into the emergency room, barely missing a wheelchair, a gurney and two patients on crutches as he maneuvered his way to the desk. Flashing his badge, he huffed out a frantic, "Cascade PD. My men--"
"Treatment two, Captain, but..." The admitting nurse's voice trailed off as the man disappeared down the hall.
"Sandburg! Ellison!" Simon breathed a sigh of relief as two voices answered in unison.
"We're fine, Simon."
Pushing back the curtain, Simon frowned at the doctor who was putting the last stitch in Jim's head. "That doesn't *look* fine."
"Not a very big owie, but in just the right place. It bled like crazy," Sandburg's voice was calmer than he looked. "Scared me a little there for a minute."
"A little? Ha! They could hear you screaming in the next county." Jim punched his friend's arm good-naturedly to take the sting out of his words.
"Funny, real funny--"
"Excuse me, but what the *hell* happened?" Simon glared at his wayward team. "Another trip into the Sandburg zone?"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Blair raised his hands in an effort to ward off the accusation. "Blame this on the librarian, man!"
"What?"
The doctor interrupted. "Excuse me, but I'm through here. Detective, I'll order you a prescription for pain, then turn in my notes. You should be free in about thirty minutes." The older man smiled kindly as he left the treatment room.
"Now, as I was saying, I sent you to arrest a bookworm. What happened?"
Blair started to giggle in spite of his best efforts, and Jim barely suppressed a smile as he looked his captain in the eye. "Drug dealer. Narcotics has been after him for months, but couldn't find him."
"Excuse me?"
"Mr. Able Spencer alias Horace Able alias Kenny Wilson -- you get the picture -- had a meth lab in his basement."
"A...meth...lab?" Simon replied weakly.
"Yep."
"But, but all those books..."
Blair managed to get his laughter under control. "Books on carpentry, chemistry, chemical equipment, electricity, accounting, etc. Each category checked out under different names. He needed to know how to set up his meth lab - the instructions were on the Internet by the way - but didn't return the books because..." Blair paused for breath and stifled another fit of giggles. "because he was afraid of his finger prints being on the books."
"We did get to Mirandez him before his confession, Simon." Jim smiled openly now as the captain looked from one man to the other.
"Amazing." Simon shook his head in disbelief. "I send you to arrest a bookworm and you come back with a drug dealer." He glared at Jim a moment. "How'd you get hurt?"
The detective turned slightly red and coughed in embarrassment, "T%&%^$"
"What?" Simon was now in full glare mode.
Blair quickly came to his partner's aide. "Blame it on the library, Simon. After we finally subdued the ge..drug dealer, Jim tripped over a stack of library books. And sliced open his head on another stack."
Jim managed an embarrassed grin. "Sadly, the library will have to wait on the trial to get their books back. They're now officially evidence."
Blair looked thoughtful. "I don't know, guys, I'm not sure it's wise to mess with the library."