The Ides Plus Two

by Swellison

Jim Ellison slammed the door of his truck shut. His hard gaze took in Sandburg's Volvo, parked in its customary spot. So he's home after all - and safe. 'Till I get my hands on him... Blair Sandburg was AWOL from his planned afternoon meeting with Jim. They were supposed to have rendezvoused at Jim's desk three hours ago and worked on the Rosotti case. When Blair had failed to materialize at the station, Ellison had tried to reach him at his university office with no luck. A call to the Anthropology Department had only produced the information that Sandburg had left the University after teaching his one o'clock class. Worried, Ellison had called his partner's friends and colleagues, but most of them had been teaching classes. No one had seen the missing anthropology fellow since his last class ended at two. Ellison had called the loft twice, but the only response had been the answering machine.

Jim stepped briskly over to the Volvo and laid a hand on the hood. Not even warm... he's been here for hours. Ellison strode across the street towards their home. Opening the street-level door, Jim cast his senses upward, toward the loft. He easily picked up Sandburg's heartbeat, but it was off. Fast. It's beating much too fast - the Kid's practically hyperventilating, too.

Ellison raced up the stairs, pausing momentarily at the door. Since he had only detected Blair's heartbeat, he ignored his weapon and reached for his door keys instead. He unlocked the front door and stepped into the loft - and utter chaos.

Someone had rifled through every scrap of paper in the loft and left clumps of letters, magazines, old newspapers - even recipe cards - scattered all over the front rooms and kitchen. Ellison tried to absorb the magnitude of the mess as he crossed the room and entered the open door to his roommate's bedroom. It was even more of a disaster area than the living room, with papers, letters, documents and books of all sorts strewn about the floor. Blair sat on the floor, frantically going through a pile of letters and muttering, "It's got to be here somewhere!"

"Sandburg!" Jim yelled, more angry than relieved now that he had found his partner and roommate safe and sound.

"Ack!" Blair jerked in surprise, sending the pile of letters flying. Guiltily, his eyes swept up to meet the older man's accusing gaze. "Jim! You startled me, man."

"Start talking, Sandburg - and make it quick," Jim growled. "Where've you been all afternoon? You were supposed to be at the station over three hours ago. And what the hell did you do to my loft?"

Blair stuttered uncharacteristically, ""I-I uh...".

"And for God's sake, breathe!" Jim commanded sternly. "I could hear you hyperventilating from the truck."

Sandburg took a deep breath and held it, then exhaled slowly. He took another one and tried to center himself.

'You can catch more flies with honey, Jimmy' Ellison heard his grandmother's oft-repeated words echo in his mind. He took a deep breath of his own, letting go of his anger as he exhaled. He continued in a normal tone of voice. "All right, Chief what happened? And start at the beginning."

Blair looked for a place to start. "Everything was going fine, 'till I overheard a couple of my students grousing when I left my last class. They were complaining about figuring out how much tip money they needed to report to the IRS. And that's when I realized -"

"That it's April fifteenth?" Jim finished. "So what? You filed months ago, and got your refund back in February."

"Hey, this is my catastrophe, here, okay? Let me do the talking." He took another deep breath then continued. "I realized that I'd completely forgotten to include my stipend from Cascade PD in my taxes."

"How could - ?"

"Give me a break. Last year was the first year that the department started paying me for my consulting work. I'm used to filing forms with just my scholarships and fellowships as income - I've been doing that for years. So when I filled out this year's form, it just - slipped my mind, y'know?

"I drove like a maniac down to the main post office and snatched the last 1040X form - I had to fight off this crazy lady to get it. We almost came to blows, I swear!" Blair sighed. "Fat lot of good it's gonna do me, though. I can't find the Department's W-2, and I've looked all over the place for it. It's worse than looking for a needle in a haystack. I called records and Vera says she mailed it out with the rest of the forms at the end of January. I'm sunk, man. The IRS is going to eat me alive with penalties, they might even get me for income tax evasion." Blair's voice became more and more agitated as he imagined the worst-case scenario.

"Relax, Chief. That isn't going to happen," Jim said confidently, motioning Sandburg to get to his feet.

Blair stood up and stretched, glad to work the kinks out of his legs from sitting on the floor for so long. "How do you know that?"

"Because finding needles in haystacks is my specialty." Jim gently chucked the younger man's chin. "You know that better than anyone." He slowly scrutinized the bedroom, letting his vision

sharpen, taking in all the little details.

Blair lightly smacked his temple, in the classic 'V8' gesture. "That's right. Do you see it?"

"No," Jim said seconds later. "I think I've got a better chance of smelling it."

"What? You're gonna sniff out the paper and ink that the W-2's made out of? How d'you know it smells any different from any other piece of paper?" Sandburg's wide gesture indicated the paper-strewn floor.

"You're right. But you said Vera handled the form, remember? And Vera always douses herself in White Shoulders perfume."

"The W-2 was mailed months ago. Smelling the perfume after all this time is a tall order, even for you."

Jim shrugged. "Think of it as one of your tests." He closed his eyes and concentrated on his sense of smell, cranking it up to maximum. Eyes still closed, he moved his feet a quarter turn and sniffed another section of the room. Minutes later, he shifted again still searching for the well-remembered scent of Grandma Ellison's favorite perfume. Then his eyes snapped open and he took two steps over to Blair's student desk. Crouching, he dug through a cluster of circulars and junk mail on the floor under the furniture. He triumphantly scooped up an envelope, straightened and held it out to Blair.

Sandburg eagerly plucked the odd-sized sealed envelope out of Jim's hands and looked at the address:

BLAIR SANDBURG

852 PROSPECT AVE

CASCADE, WA 98222

IMPORTANT - TAX DOCUMENTS ENCLOSED was stamped above the mailing address and the Cascade Police Department's central office occupied the return address portion of the envelope.

He grinned. "Thanks, Jim! You're a life-saver! Now, where'd I put that 1040X?"

Jim closed his eyes in exasperation, but then Blair whooped in victory and pounced on the errant form, which had been lying atop the futon.

His hand clamped down on Sandburg's shoulder. "Sit down and refigure your taxes. I'll drive you down to the main post office and you can mail the damned thing - probably just in time to make the Channel 2 News as the last idiot in Cascade to get an April 15th postmark. Sure hope the guys aren't watching the news tonight."

"I'm going, I'm going." Blair ducked out from under his partner's grip and settled into the chair at his desk. He opened the 1040X instruction booklet and began to read. Innocently, he added, "Jim, can I borrow a couple hundred bucks 'til payday, if I need to?"

Jim sighed, having expected the request from the moment he'd heard his roommate's plight. "Sure, and when we get back from the post office, we're going to clean up this mess. While we're at it, we'll discuss House Rule Number 9 at length: a place for everything and everything in its place."

the end

Author's note: The title is for Mysti, who pointed out that while the Ides of March is the fifteenth, the Ides of April is the thirteenth.