Don't Mess with Jim

Don’t Mess Around with Jim

July 9, 2005

Lieutenant Tim Hobbs handed the file over to Captain Banks with a disappointed look on his face. “Sir, when the Governor asked me to audit your precinct’s expenses I thought she was crazy. I mean, you have the best solve record in the state.” He shook his head sadly. “But what I see here.” Hobbs sighed. “Do you realize that this precinct, and more specifically, your department receives more money for building and auto repair than any other in Washington?” He pointed at the report on Simon’s desk. “In just the last year you’ve personally signed off on repairs to your department vehicle, patching bullet holes in various parts of the hall and office areas, replacing a very expensive robot camera that got eaten by a crocodile?” Hobbs stopped for a second hoping for an answer.

Banks just shrugged, failing miserably at his attempt to look innocent.

Hobbs rolled his eyes. “And what was the need for two first class tickets to Peru a few months back? And just recently you practically had to remodel this entire floor when an assassin for hire came through with a pair of automatic weapons?”

Simon sat forward in his desk. “Sir, every one of those expenses was reviewed and approved by my supervisors. It’s not like I sit down and write the checks myself. All I do is turn in the expense reports for those things I feel the city should cover.” Banks sighed, meeting Hobbs perplexed gaze. “Believe you me, if I turned in every bit of damage, those expenses would triple.”

The auditor stared at him for a second then shook his head minutely. “Well, you are correct. The Governor wasn’t too concerned about the expense sheet. She just wanted me to verify the accuracy of the reports. However, there is another matter here, if you’ll take a look at page three.”

Simon opened the folder and suppressed a groan as he read the heading at the top of the page, “Medical Expenses.”

“I see you understand our dilemma,” Hobbs said unable to keep a slightly condescending tone out of his voice. “Your man, Detective Ellison has taken more medical leave than any two other officers in the department put together. And has more than exceeded his health insurance payment limits. But even that is understandable considering the dangerous cases he handles.”

Simon nodded warily, certain that the other shoe was about to drop.

“But why is the city of Cascade paying for the medical treatment of one Blair Sandburg?” Hobbs asked. Simon cast a quick look into the bullpen and sighed with relief when he saw Ellison was not present. Hobbs continued unaware of the potential danger. “As far as I can tell, he’s not even on the payroll, yet he’s been riding with Ellison for almost four years now?” Hobbs pinned Banks with a stare.

Simon rose from his chair, glancing at his watch as he moved toward the Lieutenant. “You know, it’s almost lunch time. Why don’t we go to this nice restaurant I know and I’ll tell you all about it?”

Hobbs had risen in automatic response to Banks’ body language and found himself being ushered through the bullpen and out into the hall. “I suppose… But I just need a few questions about Sandburg answered and then I’ll be through,” he said missing the glares aimed at his back by the detectives and staff in the bullpen.

Banks maneuvered himself and Hobbs around the painter’s scaffolding in the hall and increased his pace hoping to make it to the elevator. “It’s really quite an interesting story, Lieutenant,” he hedged. Simon knew Jim was in the building, and just knew he would hear anything relating to Sandburg.

They were about fifteen feet from the elevator when a pissed off Sentinel came stalking around the corner followed closely by a confused Guide.

“Geez, Jim, slow down,” Simon heard Blair say. “What’s wrong Jim?” Sandburg asked as Simon grabbed Hobbs by the arm and started to drag him toward the stairs.

“You know, those elevators have been really slow lately,” Simon obfuscated. “I think we should take the stairs.”

“Captain Banks!” Ellison growled.

Hobbs tripped along behind Banks trying to keep up and look over his shoulder at the same time. “Isn’t that Ellison?” he asked. “I think he wants to talk to you.”

“No he doesn’t,” Simon insisted sharply. He had to pause to let other people past the scaffolding then continued to haul the auditor toward the stairs and safety.

“Simon!” Jim shouted.

“Come on,” Simon urged Hobbs.

“Look out!” Ellison’s voice warned.

Simon suddenly fell forward as Hobbs lurched into him and both men tumbled to the floor.

“Jim!” Sandburg yelled.

Simon and Hobbs helped each other up and turned to see Ellison sitting on the floor holding one hand to his head. Light blue paint had soaked one half of his shirt and splattered the floor and opposite wall. An empty gallon paint can rocked slowly on the floor.

“Jim,” Blair said anxiously, “we need to get you to the hospital and get that cut looked at.”

Jim shook his head then grimaced in pain. “No, Chief. One more trip to the hospital this month and Nurse Baker will think I really do have a crush on her.”

Sandburg smirked as he gently moved Jim’s hand away from his head and applied a clean handkerchief donated by one of the nearby officers.

“Jim?” Simon said. “What happened?”

Ellison looked up at his captain. “Well, I was trying to catch up to you, sir,” he said wryly, darting a glare at Lt. Hobbs before he continued, “When I saw the paint can start to fall. Since I couldn’t get your attention I pushed you both out of the way.” He closed his eyes briefly against the obviously growing headache. “I just didn’t get myself out of the way in time.”

“Yeah,” Blair snorted sarcastically, “it’s amazing that you were able to get Simon and, uh, sorry, don’t know your name…”

“Hobbs,” the auditor replied dazedly.

“Glad to meet you,” Blair continued. “Anyway, I don’t know how you managed to move both of them Jim.” He glanced up at Simon apologetically. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but the two of you together outweigh Jim by quite a bit.” Sandburg looked back to Jim. “Guess playing football comes in handy sometimes, huh?” he asked with a grin.

“Yeah, whatever, Chief,” Jim grunted, not up to responding to Blair’s teasing. “Help me up here, would you?”

“Really, Ellison,” Hobbs said lending a hand. “I think you should get that looked at. You could have a concussion.”

Jim grinned. “Naw, a little antibiotic ointment and a butterfly Band-aid and I’ll be good as new.”

“And some aspirin and a hot shower,” Sandburg muttered under his breath.

Hobbs stared at the two unlikely partners for a moment then stuck out his hand to Ellison. “Thanks,” he said sincerely.

“You’re welcome,” Jim replied watching as the man turned and shook hands with Sandburg.

“It’s good to meet you,” Hobbs said to the observer.

“Uh, you too, man,” Blair said still uncertain why Jim seemed a bit antagonistic toward the guy.

“Come on Chief,” Jim said putting an arm around his partner’s shoulder. “I need to get home and get cleaned up.”

Sandburg pushed half-heartedly at Ellison’s arm. “Ah, man! Look what you did? Now I’ve got blue paint all over me too. Geez, Ellison!” he griped as he wrapped his own arm around Jim’s waist in case the bigger man needed help.

Jim’s chuckle was echoed by Simon and several of the other officers in the hall.

Hobbs watched them walk down the hall to the elevator. When the doors closed he shook his head and turned back to Banks. “I, uh, I see what you mean, Captain.”

Simon grinned. “I’m sure you do Lieutenant.” He put a friendly hand on the man’s shoulder. “Now, how about lunch?”

The end

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