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Summary: Sick and tired of Angel's secrets, Kate Lockley hires a private investigator named Dennis Booker to dig up some dirt. Soon, sparks fly between them and Booker finds out that Angel has darker secrets than they thought. Booker/Kate

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Television > 21 Jump StreetTDWidowFR131214,761194,4493 Feb 0912 Jun 09Yes

Chapter Five - No Information

AUTHOR’S NOTE Ioki and Booker refer to the last time they had seen each other, but don’t come out and say what it is. It’s a plot point in my New Jump Street Series, but it’s not important until the next story, so don’t worry about it for now.

DISCLAIMER I own no rights to either the 21 Jump Street or Angel characters.

Chapter Five

Angel sat brooding in his office. Something about Dennis Blackwood put him on edge, though he could not figure out exactly what it was. The man was just too smooth and jumpy at the same time. Angel had not spent over two hundred years among humans and not learned anything about reading them.

Cordelia poked her head in. “I’m going home,” she said. Angel merely nodded. She frowned. “Don’t you want to know why I’m going home at 9:00 in the evening?”

“Not really.”

Cordelia sighed in frustration and stormed into the office. “Well I’m going to tell you anyway.”

Angel looked up and raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Okay.”

“I’m going home in the middle of my bizarre work day because I have a date. With Phantom Dennis. To watch TV. Because nothing’s going on here!”

Angel looked at her blandly. “And you want me to do what?”

Dropping into a chair, Cordelia shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m bored.”

Angel chuckled. “How about an assignment?”

Cordelia perked up. “An assignment? Like what?”

He smirked. “You really are bored. Start looking for any information on Doug or Dennis Blackwood.”

She rolled her eyes. “Why are we even taking this case?”

“You’re usually the one pushing me to take normal cases,” Angel said.

“Yeah, but this one’s boring!” Cordelia complained. “There’s no demons or anything.”

“It’s kind of refreshing.”

Cordelia raised an eyebrow. “And yet you’re still all broody. What’s wrong?”

Angel stood up and paced restlessly around the office. “I don’t know. There’s something about Dennis Blackwood that bothers me.”

“There’s something about a lot of people that bothers you,” Cordelia said, smirking.

Angel did not acknowledge the joke. Cordelia sighed. “If you really think there’s something wrong, why don’t you check up on him instead of his brother? Call police lady. See if she knows anything about him.”

He looked thoughtful, although Cordelia mused that it was not much of a change. “You think it’s too late to call her?” he asked.

She stood up with a groan. “We’re still here, aren’t we?”

With an amused smile, Angel picked up the phone and dialed the station. “Can you connect me to Detective Lockley?” he asked when the dispatch picked up.

“Detective Lockley is unavailable,” the dispatcher said. “May I ask who is calling?”

“I’m a friend. Can you tell me when she’ll be in?”

“She’s out with a different friend,” was the snippy reply.

Had he any breath, Angel would have heaved a frustrated sigh. “I really need to speak with her.”

The dispatcher did sigh. “Detective Lockley and Mr. Booker are unavailable for the evening. I’m sorry.”

Angel frowned. “Mr. Booker?”

“I’m sorry, sir. Goodbye.”

He held the receiver, staring for a moment, then laid it back on the cradle. “Cordelia!” he called.

There was no answer, so he left his office and found Cordelia frowning scathingly at her computer. “Cordy?” he asked. “Anything wrong?”

“This is the information age, right?” she asked. “Why can’t I find any damn information?”

“What’s up?”

“There is no Doug Blackwood,” she cried. “None! Well, okay, that’s not true. There was a Doug Blackwood and Dennis Blackwood who played football for five minutes for Augustana High School up north. I’m willing to bet that that’s the one we’re looking for. But I can’t find any useful information for tracking this guy down if he doesn’t exist outside of having a good rushing record!”

Angel smiled. “Cordelia, maybe you should go home. Go watch TV with Phantom Dennis. We’ll worry about Doug Blackwood tomorrow.”

She shot one last scornful look at the computer, then shut it down and grabbed her bag. “Sounds good to me. Call me if you need anything?”


“Okay. Goodnight!” The echo of her heels faded as she headed for the outside of the building. Angel glanced at the computer, but decided to take his own advice and leave the case alone until later. He needed to be alone.

Booker returned home to find a note taped to his apartment door. “Stopped by with info for you. Wanna grab a drink? HTI” He grinned at Ioki’s old-fashioned methods of communication and pulled out his cell phone to call him.

“Lieutenant Ioki.”

“Hey there!” Booker said. “You still up for that drink?”

Ioki laughed. “Booker, it’s nearly eleven o’clock.”

As he unlocked his door and dropped the keys on the side table, Booker teased, “You can’t be finally getting old on me, can you Harry?”

“All right, all right, fine. Barney’s?”

Booker shook his head. “Harry, you are stuck in the 90s, my friend. Meet me there in twenty?”

“Sounds good,” Ioki said.

Twenty minutes later exactly, Harry Ioki came through the front entrance of Barney’s Beanery and spotted Booker sitting at a booth with a beer. He grinned and slid in across from him. “Dennis Booker.”

“H.T. Ioki!” Booker clasped Ioki’s hand across the table. “Long time no see.”

“It has been a while, hasn’t it?” Ioki’s face fell. “Not since…”

Booker cleared his throat. “Yeah. Not since then.” They sat in an awkward silence, Booker taking a long swig of his beer. Then he asked, “So what did you find for me?”

Ioki’s expression darkened. Booker frowned. “Oh no. I’ve seen that look before,” he said.

“It’s just that I didn’t find anything,” Ioki replied.

“You didn’t find anything?” Booker was confused. “But your note said you had information for me.”

Ioki shrugged. “That is the information. There isn’t anything. This Angel you’re investigating doesn’t exist. At least, not according to any public records. No investigation license, no Social Security number, no tax records, not even a speeding ticket.”

Booker glared darkly at his empty beer glass. “How is that even possible? How does one guy – ”

“What, slip through the cracks?” Ioki supplied. “Come on Booker, you should know better than anyone that people fall through the cracks in a lot of ways.”

Booker could scarcely meet his eyes. “Yeah. I know.” He sighed. “Well, thanks for the help Harry. I really appreciate you doing this for me.” He was quiet for a minute. “What about Kate? About, uh, Detective Lockley?”

“She’s a good cop. There was a minor incident about her father’s retirement party a couple weeks ago. Something about suspect liquor at the bar. Other than that, not much out of the ordinary.”

He looked on edge. Booker frowned. “What is it, Harry?”

Ioki looked innocent. “What?”

Booker smirked and rolled his eyes. “You were my partner for a year, Harry. Or did you forget?”

“No. I didn’t forget.” Ioki rolled his beer bottle around on the table. “She has a reputation for going outside the force. You know, going to questionable sources to help with her cases.”

“So what?” Booker asked. “We used to go to sources all the time.”

Ioki shook his head. “She shuts the other officers out. She isn’t a team player and you know what that means.”

With a sigh, Booker nodded. “A loose cannon. Great.”

The waitress brought around their bill and the men paid. “Thanks for meeting me,” Booker said as he shook Ioki’s hand. “And thanks for the favor.”

“No problem,” Ioki said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

Booker waved a hand. “Nah, don’t worry about it. We should do this more often.”


They parted in the parking lot. Booker climbed on his motorcycle and took off down Sunset Boulevard toward Beverly Hills. The open air helped him to think and he needed time to do it.
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