The New Age Fair

The first rays of dawn were brightening the skies when Obie and Brody set out for the convention center and the "New Millennium, New You" Alternative Medicine Fair. The wharves, despite the colorful banners adorning the street lamps, weren't much more hospitable looking in the light of morning. It reminded Obie of the summer he'd spent selling magnetic bracelets at San Francisco's Fisherman's Wharf. Tourists, vendors, street musicians, and panhandlers were beginning to wander along the piers of Cascade's water front, the former going about the business of sight-seeing and shopping, the latter three hoping for a small share of the tourists' money. Tour buses and boats were being cleaned and fueled in anticipation of another day's business. Obie watched the numbers on the passing piers until he spotted Pier 5 and the turn for the convention center directly across the street. A line of prospective customers was already forming, Obie noticed with satisfaction.

"An eager crowd, Brody, that's a good sign. Ready to look, ready to buy," he remarked.

Brody's growl was unimpressed.

"You doubt me now, but wait and see."

Obie had been half-right: ready to look they were. Ready to buy was a whole other story. Three hours and twenty-five explanations of the meditation kits later, the only thing at Obie's booth that had sparked interest was Brody.

"That's a dog." This from a bridling woman who, in Obie's humble opinion, wasn't one who should be pointing fingers.

"What, Brody?" Obie offered her his most winsome smile. "No, no, that's not a dog. Technically, he's a warm-blooded, four-legged, alternative anti-hypertension life-extension treatment."

The woman's glare could have frozen lava.

"Or 'dog'. 'Dog' is another way of putting it..." Obie shrugged.

"You can't have that animal in here! It's a violation of the Health Code to have pets in--"

"Right you are, ma'am, pets aren't allowed in here, with the exception of seeing-eye dogs, naturally. However, alternative medicines, medical devices, and therapeutic equipment is permitted for the duration of the Health Fair. And since scientific research has proven that animals--dogs, cats--reduce anxiety, tension, and lower blood pressure in their owners, that technically qualifies my friend, Brody here, to remain on the grounds as an 'alternative anti-hypertension treatment'."

The woman stared at Obie as if she was trying to decide if he was sarcastic or simply insane. "I'm going to complain to security." With that warning, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the crowd of customers and vendors.

"I understand. Have a nice day, ma'am," he called after her. Under his breath, Obie added, "Don't forget to visit the Custom Colonic booth, see what they can do to help you remove that stick..."

"Must be a cat person," a tall blond man commented as he thumbed the meditation kits with idle interest.

Obie indicated the retreating woman with a thumb. "The last person I saw who had that particular expression was my friend, Dugan Haperdash. We were in the Brazilian rainforest and I'd just told him that the rice in my rice pilaf wasn't really rice. He, at least, had cause to complain."

If there was one skill Obie had honed in his years of traveling from country to country, it was the ability to spot a person with a problem in one glance-over. A second glance usually told Obie whether that problem was emotional, physical, or other. It was a survival skill: The physically ill needed medicines, the emotionally hurting usually needed a friendly ear. In the case of 'other', it was usually someone disgruntled with Obie and his companions' presence and usually preceded an argument or a quick flight on Obie's part. One look at the young man standing at his table told Obie that the boy had problems. A second look told him it wasn't physical. That left 'emotional' or 'other'...

Obie leaned against the table, affecting a casual stance. "So, is it girls, school, money, or family?"

The boy blinked in confusion, "Huh?"

"Is it girls, school, money, or family?" Obie repeated. "Sorry, you're free to tell me to butt- out, it's just that you strike me as someone who's recently had the universe slap a cosmic whammy on his life. Usually, that means it's a problem with one of those four things."

The boy thumbed through the contents of an open meditation kit. "And, let me guess, whatever these gizmos are will solve all my problems for a modest fee?"

"These?" Obie shrugged, "Nah. I mean, they will give your immediate environment a pleasant smell--unless, of course, we're talking a gym locker or a high-traffic dorm bathroom. They'll play soothing sounds and cleanse whatever negative vibes are bugging you. In general, they'll give you a temporary non-pharmaceutical respite from life's little moments. To be honest, the only guaranteed problem-solver I know of is a human ear attached to a willing listener. I don't sell those myself, but I do have one to loan."

"That's a helluva sales pitch, man. You sell many of these with that kind of disclaimer?"

"No."

Now, the boy did laugh. "All right, then, let's have a look at these bad boys."

Obie grinned. "Sure thing. Do you know anything about crystals?"

The boy shook his head. "My knowledge leans more towards gems."

"Well, then, tell you what, I'll give you the crash course," Obie offered.

"Good enough... hey, what was in your rice pilaf, anyway?"

"Don't ask if you don't want to know."

Ellison's truck

Ellison stole another glance at his partner. Blair had been quiet since leaving headquarters. Too quiet, in Jim's opinion. As he waited for the light to turn green, the older detective finally ventured, "You didn't say your uncle was a doctor."

Blair shrugged. "Never came up."

After a pause and another red light, Jim made another attempt. "Doctors Without Borders, huh? Now that's a group that sees a lot of action."

Blair chuckled. "Obie doesn't usually talk about the action. But he sure has traveled to some interesting places." Fingering the cuff of his jacket, Blair dug into his memories. "That's what first sparked my interest in other cultures. He'd bring back all these fascinating objects from his trips, along with some of the wildest stories about the people he met and the things he'd seen." He turned towards his partner. "Even though we wouldn't see him for months at a time, Obie always treated me as someone special. He was the one who encouraged me with my school work, listened when I had a problem, and taught me how and when to fight. Hell, he's even the one who taught me how to shave. He's probably the closest thing I've ever had to a father."

Remembering his mentor Bud, Jim felt he could understand. "We'll figure this out, Chief."

"I know. I just worry about him, you know? Obie's a pacifist. I can't picture him involved in a murder."

"He probably isn't. It's probably just a case of the Feds getting over-anxious. You know how that goes, we've dealt with them before. And last time you taught them a thing or two about catching suspects."

As Jim had hoped, his partner chuckled. "Guess I should have filled my pockets with ball bearings, huh?"

Obie's booth, New Age Fair

So far, the morning was going more smoothly than Taylor Mallory had expected. Since awakening with a huge headache only to find Dein being placed in a body bag, everything had felt like it was spinning out of control. Waves of denial, anger, fear and guilt had slammed through him for most of the night. As the first rays of light peeked into the hotel room, his mind finally kicked into gear. Unable, for now, to claim his cousin without alerting the Feds to his whereabouts, the youngest Mallory had turned his attention to completing the job they'd accepted. Another family representative had arrived to replace Acampos and would still expect delivery of the Dawn. Dein and Taylor had never disappointed a client. Dein would expect Taylor to put aside his personal feelings and carry on, and that was what Taylor intended to do.

Tracking down the mysterious hippie-mobile had been a simple matter of hacking into the Department of Motor Vehicles mainframe and finding a name and address to go with the license plate numbers Dein had whispered. Their computer had put a name to the gray-haired flower child--Obediah Emerson Sandburg, M.D.--but the address was a general delivery to a post office in Scranton. Tracing the 'doctor's' whereabouts in Cascade had taken a bit longer, but Taylor had finally found the man registered with the New Millennium, New You medical freak-show.

Taylor had intended to simply find the van in the convention center's parking building, break in, and take the boxes. However, the cop patrolling the lot had a serious Nazi attitude and the nervous energy of someone just searching for a reason to use his gun. The young thief couldn't risk drawing attention to himself. Thwarted, Taylor had dared to venture into the fair itself. Still erring on the side of caution, not wanting to be cornered in the crowded convention hall, Taylor had paused long enough to deposit a special package in one of the food court's trash cans. From there, he had moved through the crowd of witch doctors and snake oil salesmen until he'd found the booth and the hippie doctor in question.

Now, Obediah himself was unknowingly cooperating by permitting Taylor to look through the various 'meditation kits' under the guise of looking at the different crystals. If it meant listening to a lecture on each crystal and its 'magical' properties, Mallory could deal with it. Besides, the old guy was actually kind of interesting, if a bit long-winded, and Taylor had to admit these 'meditation kits' weren't as odd as half the garbage being peddled around the hall.

"So, what kinds of tapes can you use with these?" Taylor kept the conversation going as he continued to work his way through the stacks of boxes. Just a few more to go--the diamond had to be here somewhere.

"Anything you like: rainforest, river, desert, wolves, drums... Jane's Addiction." Obie had to admit, he was beginning to wonder if the kid was sincerely interested or just a Looky Lou.

Taylor chuckled. "So, what does this crystal do?" He held up one of the kits.

"That one is for those of us still searching for romance. Like I said, specific stones for specific problems."

"I've got financial problems. What's the stone for that, a diamond?"

Obie laughed. "Actually, diamonds are more for love and amplifying your own personal characteristics. But if I had diamonds, trust me, I wouldn't be working a table in between 'Hot Dog on a Stick' and the 'Finding Yourself Through Astral-Projection' booths."

Taylor couldn't help but laugh at that. Turning to count how many boxes were left to search, he caught a flash of black out of the corner of his eye. He carefully glanced in that direction. Two Asian men in black suits walked through the crowds, looking very much out of place among the jeans and T-shirt crowd. There was no mistaking they were either Feds, Interpol, or mobsters.

Damn. So much for the subtle approach. Taylor reached into his pocket for the small box and the switch tucked inside. He glanced sidelong towards the food court, noting the thick plume of smoke beginning to rise from the trash barrel. People were beginning to jump from their seats in the court even before the plume reached the smoke alarm.

Rear entrance, New Age Fair

Blair and Jim had just pulled up to the rear entrance when the first surge of people burst from the convention hall in various stages of panic. With keen eyes, Jim could see past the crowd to the smoke that was filling the hall.

"Damn! Looks like a fire. Sandburg, get the trucks and paramedics down here." The truck had barely stopped before Jim was out of the vehicle and rushing for the building.

Obie's Booth

Obie was mid-way through his explanation on the powers of Amethyst when the alarm began to blare. What the--? He turned, searching for the source of the commotion, and spotted the smoke billowing in the food court. Those who had not noticed the smoke before then were galvanized to flee at the ring of the alarm. Immediately, vendors nervously started gathering up their wares while the crowd began to push towards the exits in a none-too-orderly fashion.

"Oh boy. I think that you should--" Obie was brought up short when he turned back to find the boy making a grab for the unopened meditation kits on the table. "Hey, what the h--"

Taylor had the grace to look apologetic. "I'm sorry, man." Obie didn't see the blow coming until the boy's fist connected with his right eye. He was unconscious before he hit the floor.

Then Taylor heard the growls. A small, furry streak shot from beneath the tables and, before Mallory could react, Brody's sharp teeth dug into his leg. Taylor let out a yelp of pain and tried to kick the beast away, but the dog held on all the tighter. The effort to dislodge Brody and hang onto the boxes threw Taylor off-balance. He stumbled backwards, tripped over the mutt, and lost his grip on the meditation kits. Boxes flew in all directions.

The commotion was enough to get the attention of the two Feds. With a sinking heart, Taylor saw the duo pushing their way through the sea of panicky bodies towards Obie's booth.

Rear entrance

It was like running into the sensory equivalent of a brick wall. Jim's senses assaulted him the moment he stepped into the center. Dozens of different smells--perfumes, after-shaves, pungent herbs, aromatherapy oils, incense, flowers, and smoke--burned at his lungs and stung his eyes. The fire bell, the music pulsing from the overhead speakers, and people's shouts were deafening. He was blinded momentarily by strobes from the stage, by laser displays at a half-dozen different booths, and the smoke. The stimuli crashed over him like a wave, nearly overwhelming his Sentinel senses.

He had no idea how long he had stood there before Blair's voice cut through the din. "Jim!" A hand came down on his shoulder, gripping hard. "Are you all right? C'mon, man, concentrate. Dial it down!"

Jim focused, shutting out the stimuli one-by-one until he could bring his senses back under control. Concentrating on his sense of sight, he searched the room. Through the thinning smoke, he spotted Okuma and Keane. Their attention was focused on something--someone--at the far end of the hall. Jim followed their gaze, piggybacking his hearing with his sight. The first thing he heard was familiar barking. He traced the noise to the corner by the food court. Brody was nipping at the heels of a young blond man. Obie's boxes were scattered across the floor near the struggling young man. Obie himself was slumped unconscious nearby. The young man was gazing from the dog to the two Feds to the boxes. He kicked at Brody, trying to drive the dog away, but finally gave up and fled for the exit. Okuma and Keane were hot on the boy's heels.

"There!" Jim pointed Blair in the direction of Obie's booth.

"What?" Blair shouted above the din, struggling to see through the smoke.

"Someone attacked your uncle, but Brody drove him away. I'm going after him." Jim split off to intercept the thief while Blair raced towards Obie's booth.

Taylor dodged through the crowd, trying to ignore his throbbing ankle. When a collision with a large, panicked vendor spun him around, he spotted the Feds still close behind him. Damn, I can't let them catch me. Up ahead, he spotted a booth demonstrating motorized service carts. Nearby, a boy dropped the controls to one of the carts as his mother grabbed his arm, dragging him to an exit. With an extra burst of speed, Taylor reached the cart, scooped up the controls, then swiftly spun around. Expertly, he flipped a couple of switches, then tossed the controls into a nearby trash can. He darted through the exit as the cart crashed into the Feds.

As Taylor entered the crowds standing outside the hall, a stern voice shouted, "Freeze! Cascade PD!" Turning, he spotted Ellison pointing a gun at him.

So did everyone else. Instead of standing still or dropping to the ground, the already overwrought crowd began to stampede. Jim was pushed back as bodies glanced off him. Then someone reeking like a flower shop was shoved up tight against his body. The fragile control that Blair had helped Jim gain earlier was shattered, sending the sentinel into a sneezing fit. By the time Jim had gained control and was no longer buffeted by the crowd, the perp was gone.

Half hour later

"I told you, I don't know the kid. I thought he looked upset, I was being friendly. Then the alarms went off and the next thing I knew, the guy clocked me."

Obie had ignored Blair's concerned efforts to get him to sit down, preferring to help with those hurt in the melee that followed the smoke alarm. It hadn't been until the paramedics arrived that he'd allowed his nephew to coax him to a chair in the food court. Blair had allowed the newly arrived officers Buxton and Crowder to take charge of interviewing the various witnesses to the ruckus while he cleaned the small cut over Obie's right eye.

Now Agent Keane sat across the table from the elder Sandburg, using the same annoyingly insincere, friendly routine he'd tried on Blair as he questioned Obie. It was a toss up as to who was annoying who more--Keane with his repetitious interrogation or Obie with his inability to offer the Fed useful answers. Keane's friendly facade was fading quickly.

"You're sure you haven't seen the kid before?" Keane asked.

Outwardly, Obie was calm, but Blair could see the subtle squaring of Obie's shoulders that betrayed his irritation. "I'm sure."

"He wasn't on the wharf last night?"

"Maybe, but I didn't see him if he was."

With a frustrated sigh, Keane rose from the table. He paced for a moment, then crossed the room to join Okuma, who was talking with the fire marshal. Jim could easily keep an ear on their conversation from where he stood near the table.

"--no fire, but we found a smoke canister in one of the trash barrels," Okuma filled in Keane. "It had what looks like a homemade remote trigger attached."

"Definitely our boy's handiwork then "

Officer Crowder was helping to gather the boxes that Obie's attacker had left strewn across the floor. She waited until Keane had left the group before bringing the meditation kits to the table. "This is the last of them, Blair."

"Thanks, Lynn."

Jim pulled the rookie officer aside. "Hey, Crowder, do me a favor? Run one of these boxes down to the station and see if you can pull a print off it--and don't let Agents Jay and Kay over there see you."

"Not a problem," Crowder agreed.

Watching the pretty brunette walk away, Obie nudged his nephew. "Lynn, eh? Very cute. You ask her out yet?"

"She's a friend, Obie," Blair said.

"Turned you down, huh?"

"Yeah."

Jim interrupted, "Heads up." Keane and Okuma were returning to the table.

"Dr. Sandburg, we need to ask you some more questions. If you'll accompany us back to our office..."

Blair opened his mouth to protest, but it was Jim who stepped between Obie and the two agents first. "Whoa, whoa, last time I checked, the doc isn't under arrest. Now, this alleged murder took place in Cascade and, unless you give me a good reason, it's not a Federal case. That puts the murder and this little incident under our jurisdiction, which makes Dr. Sandburg our witness. At least until someone informs our boss otherwise. So if you want to take Dr. Sandburg into your custody, either tell us who your John Doe is, who that kid was, or why he would start a stampede just to steal some boxes of crystal and incense?"

Keane and Okuma were pointedly silent.

"That's what I thought. In that case, we are taking Dr. Sandburg to our station to get his statement and if you want him to answer any more questions, you can ask him there." Jim waved Obie and Blair towards the exit.

Okuma warned, "You're treading a very thin line, Detective."

Jim grinned, "See you at the station, boys."

Obie gave them a wave. "You know, for the first time, I actually prefer going to the police station."

Major Crimes

"So this is where you work," Obie commented as Blair and Jim led him into the bullpen. Ice pack on one eye, he studied the busy area.

"And right over here is my desk," Blair pointed as he directed his uncle to the chair beside it.

Jim covertly studied the older man. He had noticed that the slight limp from the night before had grown more pronounced after the robbery incident. Whether it was due to fatigue or stress, Jim wasn't sure. However, his instincts were telling him there was much more to the Feds' interest than a simple murder, and somehow the elder Sandburg was innocently in the middle of it.

"So, is this the holy terror that stole your bed, Jim?" Brown asked with a wide grin. He indicated Brody with his hand, who was in the process of sniffing the corner of Taggart's desk.

"Yep," Jim replied straight-faced. He scooped up the mutt and dropped him into Brown's arms.

Undaunted, the cheerful detective caught the dog and held him up for inspection. Brody made an attempt to lick his nose. "Hey, he's a cutie."

"So, do me a favor and take the 'cutie' for a walk," Jim suggested.

With a grin, Henri tucked the wiggling dog under his arm. "No problem."

Jim smirked and took one more step towards his desk before another voice interrupted, "Good day, Jim. Anything interesting happening?"

Jim turned to find Inspector Megan Connor standing behind him. "Just double vision in the Sandburg Zone," he replied.

Before Megan could ask him what he meant, Simon stepped out of his office. "I just heard about the smoke bomb and the attempted robbery at that New Age Fair. Tell me Blair's uncle wasn't in the middle of it."

"As a matter of fact, sir, he was," Jim replied with resignation, waving a hand in the Sandburgs' direction.

"Does this have anything to do with the Feds asking about him?"

"Yes, it does."

"Damn." Simon shook his head. "Isn't one of them enough?"

"What Feds?" Megan asked, feeling like she was a couple of steps behind.

"Oh, some Feds claim Blair's uncle was in the area of a murder last night," Jim explained. "We don't know what murder they're talking about, or why it would be a federal case."

"We might be able to narrow down the possibilities," Simon pointed out.

Jim nodded. "True. We know Obie made only two stops in Cascade before he arrived at my place--the gas station and the wharf. The murder had to have been at one of those two places, most likely the wharf from the questions."

Looking thoughtful, Megan glanced back at Blair's desk. "I wonder if it's the murders down by the wharves that has Interpol breathing down Homicides' necks."

Both Jim and Simon turned to stare at Megan in disbelief. "Interpol?" Simon repeated. "Just who on earth got whacked last night?"

"And what's the connection to a guy trying to rip off Obie's homemade wares?" Jim added.

Simon leaned towards Megan. "Connor, do a little digging down in Homicide and see what you can find out."

"Yes, sir," Megan replied.

"Hey, Megan!" Blair waved her over. "Could you do me a favor and find the sketch artist?"

"No worries, Sandy," Megan replied, stepping closer to the two Sandburgs. She smiled at the older man who bore a noticeable resemblance to Blair.

After a nudge from Obie, Blair add, "Oh, Megan, this is my uncle, Obediah Sandburg. Obie, this is Inspector Megan Connor. She's an exchange officer from Australia."

Obie bounced to his feet, dropping the ice pack on Blair's desk. "An honor to meet you," he greeted with a bow as he took her hand.

Megan smiled, charmed in spite of herself. "Nice to meet you too, Mr. Sandburg."

"Just Obie, please."

"Obie." Megan nodded and turned to search for the artist.

As soon as he judged her far enough away, Blair punched Obie in the arm. "Hey, back off."

Obie was still watching her. "Oh, so you've gone out?"

"NO!" Blair rolled his eyes. "She's a friend and a colleague."

"Ah, so you haven't gotten up the nerve to ask her yet."

"Obediah!" Blair hissed. At Obie's raised eyebrow, Blair confessed, "Okay, no, I haven't asked her out yet. I have to work with her, you know."

"Too bad," Obie sighed. "I bet that one's a great kisser."

Blair blushed. "I'm not telling."

"OOOOOOoooo."

Before the elder Sandburg could pry out any details, Jim and Simon walked over. "Obie, this is our Captain, Simon Banks. Sir, this is Obediah Sandburg."

Simon and Obediah quickly appraised each other as they shook hands. Then Simon gestured to his office. "Dr. Sandburg, why don't we discuss all this in private."

A few minutes later, Obie had told Blair and his co-workers everything that had happened. Thoughtfully, Jim asked, "You said he struck you, pardon the expression, as looking upset. Did he say anything that might give us an idea why?"

Slightly surprised that a cop would ask such an intelligent question, Obie paused a moment. "Well, he did ask if there was a crystal that would help with financial problems, like diamonds."

"I thought you only sold semi-precious stones?" Blair questioned.

"I do. I told him if I were selling diamonds, I certainly wouldn't be at that fair. We laughed, and continued talking. He seemed to me a nice, yet troubled, young man."

"Yeah, a nice young man who punched you," Blair pointed out sternly.

"But he did apologize first," Obie replied unperturbed.

"So, was the diamond comment just idle conversation, or something more," Jim thought out loud.

"And what does it have to do with Feds and a murder last night," Simon added. He glanced up. "Speaking of whom..."

Okuma and Keane had entered Major Crimes and were heading their way. Knocking sharply, they entered the captain's office without waiting for a response. As Ellison and Banks glared at them, they focused on Dr. Sandburg. The older Fed stood by the wall, fixing Obie with a burning stare. The younger Fed had taken a seat across from Obie uninvited. Keane ignored the detectives and the waiting doctor for several minutes, taking great interest in whatever was written on his own notepad. Finally, he chuckled, amused at something in the notes. "I will say, Dr. Sandburg, you brightened our lab tech's afternoon. There's certainly a, shall we say, colorful variety of items in your--what do you call them?"

"Meditation kits. When you boys are done 'identifying my colorful items', I'd like them back."

"I'm told it will take a day just to identify them all. I'm curious, what were you doing peddling roots and crystals at a small-time fair? I was under the impression you lost your license?"

"Misunderstanding. I cleared it up." Obie crossed his arms. "But you'd know that already."

"So why aren't you practicing medicine at a nice hospital somewhere in the U.S.? It would certainly be safer, wouldn't it?"

"I like to travel."

"I can see that. And you certainly get around. Africa, South America, Russia..." Keane read from his notes. "Tell me, have you ever been to Vienna? France? Monte Carlo? Australia?"

Obie shook his head. "There's not a lot of call for humanitarian relief in those areas."

"No, I expect not. You must meet quite a few people, traveling as much as you do. But you say you've never seen the young man who tried to rob you before today? Last night on the wharf, maybe?"

"Nope. I told you. I saw Gene, I saw three guys off-loading lumber from a truck, I saw a security guard. If there was anyone else on the wharf, I didn't see them."

"No one around your van? On the other piers?"

"I think there might have been a homeless gentleman relieving himself on a stack of pallets three piers down, does that help you?"

Okuma glowered. Keane ignored the barb. "So, if you couldn't place the thief at the wharf and you hadn't met him before this morning, what do you think he wanted with your little boxes?"

"Beats me. He seemed like a nice, yet troubled, young man."

Okuma snorted in disbelief. "A 'nice young man' who is not only a thief but a murderer."

"He didn't strike me as a murderer," Obie insisted.

Okuma pounced on the opening. "And you can spot a murderer, Dr. Sandburg? Was part of your medical training in mind-reading?"

"I can usually read people."

Okuma gave the older man a sneer. Obie was beginning to think this Fed had only three facial expressions: sneer, glower, and smirk. "Right, just like you 'read' the rebels in Rwanda when they ruined your knee?" Jim noticed Blair shoot up straight in his chair, eyes wide. He could also hear the catch in Obie's breathing and the slight quickening of his pulse at the remark.

Obie, however, maintained a poker face for the Feds. "I couldn't leave until the baby was delivered and got caught--but I knew they were murderers."

Blair shifted in his chair, eyes troubled and focused inward. Jim spared him a glance, remembering Blair had mentioned a whole different story concerning Obie's knee injury. Apparently, obfuscating about what really happened on the job to the family was another Sandburg trait.

Wrapped up in his own thoughts, Jim nearly missed it as Obie continued, "I can 'read', for example, that you've been in the field so long you think everyone is a bad guy. You've been fanning that cynical little flame ever since you got your arm broken--let me guess, you were DEA before the FBI and were guest of some little drug czar for about three weeks? Enough time to be sure that bone knitted crooked. Sorry, I couldn't help but notice."

"Obediah..." Blair hissed a warning.

"You hate your work, you hate the pay, you hate the hours, but you believe in what you do enough to stay in the field. Now, sweet face over there..." Obie indicated Keane, but spoke to Okuma, "...he loves his work. Give him five years more and he'll be a director. Probably yours. Must drive you crazy knowing that. Under those circumstances, I'd be walking around looking like someone just stuck my hand in a bear trap and was trying hard not to scream, too."

Simon held his breath as Okuma's face went to white to red to white again. Now I know where Blair's tough talk comes from. Blair himself was pale as he exchanged stunned looks with Keane. Behind his own poker face, Jim's muscles tensed, prepared to physically intervene if the Fed tried to kill Blair's uncle.

Then a sound escaped from Okuma's lips. When more chuckles joined the first small sound, everyone else in the room relaxed.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Dr. Sandburg. If you remember anything more, I expect a phone call." Okuma nodded to Keane, who gave Obie a dirty look as they left.

Megan waited until after the FBI had left, then slipped into the room. "I have the information you wanted, Captain."

"What did you find out?" Simon asked as he leaned back in his chair and pulled out a cigar.

Megan slid two photos onto the table. "Two men were murdered last night on the wharves. One was Alberto Acampos. He worked for the Dante crime family in Chicago as an appraiser."

"That explains the FBI involvement," Blair pointed out as he studied the photo.

"The other was an Australian by the name of Dein Mallory. He and his American cousin are international high tech jewel thieves, which is why Interpol is interested. Apparently, they have made some impressive scores all over the world. Just that no one has been able to prove anything."

"Do either of these men look familiar?" Jim asked Obie.

The older man shook his head. "I've never seen them before."

"What about the cousin?" Simon asked.

"His name is Taylor Mallory. From what Rodgers in Homicide said, Dein brought him into the business due to his high tech and mechanical skills. He's suppose to be very good with gadgets." Megan caught Ellison's eye. "By the way, Jim, I ran into Lynn Crowder. They were able to pull some prints off the kit. On a hunch, I had them compare the younger Mallory's prints. They match." She slid another photo across the table.

"That's him," Obie exclaimed.

Jim agreed with a nod. "Yep, that's definitely our little pugilist."

Everyone gathered to study the photo. "But why would a jewel thief be interested in one of your meditation kits?" Blair questioned, turning to his uncle. "Those semi-precious stones wouldn't even be a blip on this guy's screen."

Obie looked thoughtful. "No wonder that kid looked upset, losing his cousin just last night. I wonder if he has any other family?"

"Uncle Obediah."

"Right." Obie blinked, then remembered, "You know, the whole time we were talking, we had been slowly working our way through each of the kits, discussing crystals and incense. And the kits he grabbed were the ones we hadn't reached yet."

"And your van was near where his cousin was killed." Blair snapped his fingers. "What if Dein Mallory managed to slip something inside before he died? You could easily hide something in those kits."

"Maybe something that was worth killing him and Acampos for?" Megan suggested.

"Diamonds," Jim inserted slowly, nodding his head. "Taylor asked you about diamonds, probably fishing to see if you had already found them."

"But why hit me?" Obie asked. "We probably would have looked through every one of those boxes if the smoke alarm hadn't gone off."

"Something spooked him," Jim pointed out. "He must have planted that smoke device just in case he needed a diversion."

"Okuma and Keane," Blair declared with a sweep of his hand. "They were on their way to the booth. No way Taylor could have mistaken them for anything BUT Feds."

"The records I saw did indicate that neither Mallory is known to carry guns," Megan interjected. "They seem to follow the old code of gentlemen thieves. So it's likely young Taylor would pick a non-lethal means to aid his escape."

"Using a high tech gadget," Blair nodded. "Definitely sounds like this guy's MO."

"So whatever everyone is looking for may still be in one of those boxes." Simon tapped his unlighted cigar against his finger. "Too bad the Feds have them."

"But if there were diamonds in them, you'd think the Feds would have found them already," Jim pointed out.

Obie shrugged. "True, but they don't have all of them." As the members of Major Crimes turned, the older man smiled. "I don't display every one I have. There are several in the van that are either half done, need fixing, or lack a coat of finish."

"All right," Blair exclaimed with a wide grin.

Banks held back his own smile and immediately took charge. "Okay, Sandburg, Connor, I want you to escort Dr. Sandburg back to the loft. It should be safe and comfortable enough for you to start looking through those kits." Simon, too, had noticed the fatigue on the elder Sandburg's face. "Ellison, go talk with your contacts in Interpol and the FBI, and see if you can dig up exactly what got the elder Mallory killed. More than likely, it's still spooking the younger one." The Captain leveled a stare at his people. "All we have so far is conjecture. I'd like facts as to why we have Feds up the wazoo by end of the day."