Missing Mercenary Mystery (3) by Maureen Wynn Maureen was muttering. She had been muttering for a while. Although she didn't realize it yet, she was going to have a whopper of a sore throat tomorrow, between the muttering and the snarling (you wouldn't *believe* what snarling on a regular basis does to the average human throat). "%$#@*&^% car rental company! No cruise control, no tape deck, and now the *radio* is on the fritz! Friggin' AM radio- -what a waste! That's the *last* time I get a car from Rent- A-Wreck--not that I had much choice, since Hertz won't rent to me anymore. Gee--crash *one* car, and they get all bent out of shape! It's not like it wasn't covered by the insurance." Absently, she rubbed at her chest, where the worst bruising had been from her New Year's Day crash, and unconsciously started her mantra, "Thank Ford for seat belts, Thank Ford for air-bags, Thank Ford for seat belts, Thank Ford for air-bags..." She spotted a parking spot on Crawford, and pulled in. She turned off the car, and just sat for a minute, resting. It had been a long, hard, drive. She'd had the spooky feeling every now and then that she was being followed, but she had finally just put that down to her ever-present paranoia (not that paranoia is necessarily a *bad* thing for a Mercenary). She actually started to nod off, when she was awoken by a yowl from the back seat. "OK, cat-face, keep your fur on. You'll be out of the carrier in just a little while." Maureen got out of the car, and took the cat-carrier (containing one very annoyed cat) from the back seat. She collected a few more things from the back seat and the trunk, and juggling it all in her arms, headed up the front stairs of the house that was serving as Merc Central. She knocked on the door, then leaned against the wall, and, closing her eyes, waited to see if anyone was home tonight. The door suddenly flew open, slamming against the inside wall with a *BANG*, and Maureen jumped back from the wall, dropping everything she was holding. Against all hope (considering that her brain really wasn't awake), she landed in a reasonably balanced cat-stance, facing... ... her fellow mercenary, Dianne. They stared at each other for a moment, in shock. Then Dianne's lips twitched, and she started to giggle, which turned into helpless laughter at the look on Maureen's face, and then the two of them were leaning on each other, laughing like mad-women, unable to stop. The angry cat-howls emanating from the up-ended cat-carrier only made them laugh harder. "Oh, lord, Maureen, the next time you knock on a door in War- time, stand in front of the peep-hole, will you?" Dianne said, still laughing. "We aren't *nervous*, are we?" Maureen responded between giggles. "Not at all, not at all! That's how I *always* open the door, didn't you know?" "Oh, sure, it's a great way to scare away the Jehovah's Witnesses." Fighting back giggles, the two started to pick up the assorted things Maureen had dropped in her zeal to defend herself. Bringing them inside, Maureen opened the carrier and tried to sooth the tiger-striped tabby inside. Ophelia was not to be soothed so easily, however, and stalked away, tail high, to find a secluded spot in which to lick down her rumpled fur. Dianne looked after the departing cat and said "What is it with Mercenaries and cats, anyway?" Maureen replied, with more emotion than sense, "Well, they all have claws, don't they? Lots in common." She started to walk toward the living room, when she was stopped short by the sound of more cat-howls--*multiple* cat howls. She closed her eyes and sighed, "Speaking of claws..." Dianne said, "You knew there were cats here already, didn't you?" "Yeah, I did. That's why I brought Ophelia along--I figured they'd be able to keep each other company while I was out on assignments." Dianne looked uncertainly toward where the yowls had diminished to low, muttered rumblings, with the occasional meow. "I don't know if they all *want* company!" "Don't worry, cat-face has never permanently disabled another cat before--she just needs to go through the standard dominance/submissive setting up exercises with them. Once the head-cat has asserted herself, they'll settle down." The two mercenaries collapsed on chairs in the living room, and grinned at each other. "So, where the he... Heck have you been, Maureen? Jen was just about to sound a Red Alert!" "It's a long story," Maureen replied, frowning slightly. "And it may not be over yet. I'll fill everyone in tomorrow, as soon as I can get back on-line," she said, opening up her lap-top. "I also need to get some advertising out on the net. Now that my big job is kaput, I need to start drumming up some more business." She looked around vaguely, and asked "Where's a phone line that I can plug this thing into?" "We have computer central set up in the library. A temporary ethernet line that connects us directly to the internet through the University. There are also several phone lines, if you need to use your lap-top for special secure communications." Maureen's eyes widened at this news, and she asked "How did we get all *that*?" "Oh, one of our Guild members called in a few favors", Dianne replied smugly. "We have better computer communications than anyone... Except maybe the cousins." she added wryly. "After all, they have LaCroix to fund any expenditures they feel necessary." At the mention of the cousins, Maureen winced slightly. Dianne noticed, and raised one eyebrow in question. "Um, just so you know... I *may* be having a few problems with the cousins, so you might want to maintain that um, special door- opening technique that you've perfected." Dianne said "Are there open hostilities, or is this more the 'dagger in the dark' kind of problem?" "Well, there actually aren't *any* hostilities yet," Maureen weaseled, "But I wouldn't be surprised if some didn't start real soon, so watch your back." She got up off the oh-so-soft couch with a groan, and said "I've been in that danged car for the last three days - I'm going to take a hot bath... With bubbles... And then collapse for a day or two. Are there any open beds? Or do I need to get my sleeping bag out of the car?" "Up the stairs, turn right, second door on the left." Dianne looked around the living room for the orange and brown striped cat, but didn't see her. "Don't you want to find your cat before you go to bed?" "Oh, Ophelia's not *my* cat--we're equals, traveling together. If she wants me, she'll find me," Maureen murmured, heading up the stairs, toward the heaven of warm bubbles that awaited her, and the peaceful slumber... Safely behind a locked door. ************************************************************* A Larger Rock and a Harder Place by Sarah Welsh Sarah had never thought it would come to this. The idea of a War had sounded like such fun. Sure, she had no idea what she was doing, but when did she ever? LaCroix' visit had been a little spooky but exciting as well. And when she had received Jen's reply to her e-mail message, the prospect of a trip to Toronto had only made her more gung-ho about the whole adventure. She had arrived earlier that day and intended to get in touch with Jen as soon as possible, expecting that she could hang out with her Mercenary friend until she had some idea what to do with herself for the rest of the war. She hadn't expected that Jen would be "getting in touch" with her. Even when she noticed that Jen and her stolen-carload were headed for Hamilton, she hadn't suspected that they were on their way to attack Dawn Steele's apartment. She could kick herself for not realizing it. But she had never expected that she and her friend would end up on opposite sides in this War. Because it was Dawn Steele who had provided her FK tapes and to whom she had sworn her service. Sarah crouched farther back in her hiding place. She had gotten to the apartment a few hours before the Cousins and their Mercenaries had. She hadn't had to break in, of course; Dawn had mailed her the key. And she knew she should be doing something to stop the others from breaking in. But now that it came down to actual warfare, Sarah found out something about herself: she was a coward. She was badly outnumbered and didn't know what to do. If it came to the point, she wondered whether Jennifer would actually work against her. *A Mercenary in wartime?* she asked herself. *In a choice between personal friendship and the payment of the Cousins? Please. You'd be toast, Sarah.* Well, she didn't know for sure what they were up to yet. Maybe she could just stay hidden while they were there and clean up the mess later. Her instructions from Dawn were fairly clear. The Die-Hard had suspected that her apartment might be a target. Some things were allowed, and some... Well... She hoped it wouldn't come to that. As the intruders stepped inside, she asked herself, *What have you gotten yourself into, Sarah?* ************************************************************* Simple Tasks by Cousin Candice and Stefani Osborne Candice walked into the apartment and was shocked. *No One's* apartment should be this clean. They each scanned the seemingly spotless apartment with their flashlights, looking for the light switches. "Found em!" said James almost too cheerfully and she flipped on the lights. Everyone winced when the bright bulbs were turned on, after all, their eyes had just adjusted to the minimal light. Colleen growled in James' direction, who promptly blew her a kiss, saying "Just doin' my job, oh Cousin of mine." Before any more sparks could fly Candice started rolling off orders. "Alrighty then ladies. James--go see what you can find in the kitchen. Rummage through the garbage if you have to. I've got this nasty little feeling that something's gonna turn up where we least expect it. Colleen--go help James." Colleen glared at her as if to say 'I can't believe you're making me filter someone's garbage.' Before she could protest any further, Candice walked away, taking Steff by the elbow and sitting her down in front of Dawn's computer. "You know what to do. I want IN on her files. She knows something about this case. Dawn wouldn't leave the Die-Hards to flounder about without her unless she *did* know something. Hack it." Steff nodded and went to work. Candice walked over to the table where Jen was currently moping. There was a stack of neatly piled papers and envelopes on the far end. "Hmm... Let's go through these, shall we?" "What, go through Dawn's mail? How boring." "Well, you never know..." said Candice as she flipped through the pile haphazardly tossing the junk mail aside. "Take a look--I'm gonna go see how James and Caile are doing." Candice returned to Steff's side and peered over her shoulder watching intently. "Do you really think you can get into Dawn's files, Steff?" she said anxiously. Steff smiled "Of course ye of little faith," knowing the poor thing ahd no idea how easy breaking intoa system would be. Steff turned on the computer. The system asked for a prompt-- a typical program. Steff then pulled Jen's laptop from it's case. She would have used her own, but it was an archaic Radio Shack TRS-80 Model 100--while 15 years old, Steff was still attached to it. Dawn had a full keyboard, 32K of static memory (which meant she couldn't turn it off in mid-sentence without saving), and she didn't have one of those annoying flip-up screens. Unfortunately, there were several programs she couldn't run. she thought to herself. Steff plugged in a serial cable into Jen's computer (taken from the black duffle), and the other end into Dawn's. Then, she inserted a disk into the laptop and typed the start command. Fifty seconds later, she had the password. They were in. "Hey Candi, I did it." Steff grinned at her employer. "What? Already?" Candice was dumbfounded. Of course, most people didn't realize how incredible simple it was to decipher a password. If they knew, they'd be appalled. All the more reason to keep it a well-kept secret. "Yep. What do you want to look at?" Steff rose and offered Candi the chair." Have at it. If you run into problems, let me know." Steff sat down on the couch and lit a cigarette, taking a book from her backpack, deciding this could take a while. Jen sighed reluctantly and started on her task, cursing herself for ever taking this damned job. As she sorted through the junk and bills, she came across two _very different_ things. One was a hand written letter, and the other was a tax return. At the same time, Caile and James emerged from the kitchen bearing the wrappers from a popular souvlaki deli located in the heart of Toronto and a small blue book. Candice, oblivious to the goings-on about her called up the LaCeart Tax program in Dawn's account, beginning her search for information. And then someone sneezed in another room. *** Could that be... Sarah? ************************************************************* This Is Too Easy by darkangel "Do you really think you can get into Dawn's files, Steff?" Candice looked anxious. I smiled. "Of course, ye of little faith." Poor thing had no idea how easy this would be. I turned on the computer. The system asked for a password before you could get to a prompt- -a typical program. I pulled Jen's laptop from its case. I would use mine, but it was an archaic Radio Shack TRS-80 Model 100 - while fifteen years old, I loved the thing. Dave had a full keyboard, 32K of static memory (which meant I could turn it off in mid- sentence without saving), and he didn't have one of those annoying flip-up screens. Unfortunately, there were several programs he couldn't run. Poor baby. I plugged a serial cable into Jen's computer, and the other end into Dawn's. Then I inserted a disk into the laptop and typed the start command. Fifty seconds later, I had her password. I was in. "Hey, Candi, I did it." I grinned. "What? Already?" She was dumbfounded. Of course, most people didn't realize how incredibly simple it was to decipher a password. If they knew, they'd be appalled. All the more reason to keep it a well-kept secret. "Yep. What do you want to look at?" I stood and offered her the chair. "Have at it. If you run into problems, let me know." I sat down on the couch and lit a cigarette, and took a book from my backpack. This could be a while. ************************************************************* The Better Part of Valor by Sarah Welsh Sarah once again thanked God that she had brought her ever- useful tape-recording of a sneeze with her. She had set it up in Dawn's closet when she first arrived, part of her contingency plan if she ever needed a distraction. She just hadn't expected to need it so soon. It worked like a charm, though. While the Cousins and Mercs ran back to find whomever was hiding in the bedroom, Sarah had her chance. According to Dawn's instructions, there was only one thing in her apartment that desperately needed to be protected against any intruders at all costs. She scooped up that one item and slipped out the front door. Anything else could be set right later. And it would be. But she had learned a valuable lesson: she couldn't do it by herself. Down the road in her motel room, Sarah flipped on her laptop and quickly telnetted to her college roommate's account. Time for another message to Jen. She knew that the Cousins would be able to identify the tape recorder as hers; her fingerprints were all over it, for one thing. LaCroix would not be pleased. Passive disaffiliation was one thing; actively working against the Cousins was something else entirely. If she was on her own, the word she was looking for would be "suicide." If, however, she took Jen up on her offer... ------------------------------------------------------------- From : jennifer lynn fields To : lackeyj@indiana.edu CC : Attachment: Subject : sign me up Jen- It's me, Sarah. You were saying something about a Merc charter? Forward me a copy of it, girl. I'm signing up. Sarah ------------------------------------------------------------- She hit ^X to send and sat back to wait for Jen to check her e-mail again. There were certain times and situations when independence was overrated. ************************************************************* One Long Night, er, Day by Tara LJC O'Shea Miklos hung up the phone, and met Janette's eyes from across the bar. "What has our little corbie gotten herself into now?" "Someone framed her." "What a novel idea. How?" "Her airline tickets and hotel receipts were stolen." "Well, then you'd best go talk to Aristotle, Larry Merlin is... Busy. And we can't let one of our own go to jail, now can we?" * * * Tara sank onto her bed, noticing absently that her hands were shaking. "Ms. Kaye, I presume?" Nat got up and walked towards the row of bars that separated them. She remembered her now, not as the lab coated intern, but a hazy memory of a girl in a black dress, quietly smoking in a bar in New York, watching everything. Her hair had been brown then, but the eyes, the face, was the same. "My name's Tara." "I'd say I'm pleased to meet you, but I'm not entirely sure what the proper greeting is to the person who framed you and had you thrown in jail." "I never meant it to go that far. It wouldn't have gotten that far, but someone else decided framing you was a good idea, and did a much better job of it than I had." Tara was earnest, she really did want Nat to believe her, not just because it was the truth, but because she really did like the Doctor. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?" "Doctor, I swear it was nothing personal. I needed a diversion, something to draw suspicion away from Janette, give us time to try and find out who wanted her framed for Stonetree's murder." "And you decided I made a good diversion?" "Well, you did! No one would ever believe you killed him, you had no motive." "Someone made sure I did." "It wasn't me. I know you have no reason to believe me, but it's the truth." "So, what are you in for?" "Det. Cross thought a night, pardon me, day, in jail might loosen my tongue." "And he excepts you to say... What?" "That I killed Joe." "Did you?" "No!" Tara snapped. "I didn't get here until the body had been found, Susan told me about it, I never even saw him, I'd never even met him..." "Then they can't hold you." "Sure they can, all my proof conveniently disappeared." "You have no motive, either." "I think someone is going to make sure I do, that's what scares me. I like being two steps ahead of everyone, and suddenly, I'm the one out of the loop." * * * "Oh, this is not good," Aristotle murmured, tapping away furiously. Miklos leaned against the table, arms crossed. "What?" "Someone has done a very nice job of making it look like the bossy little--" Careful." "--girl arrived the day before the murder. Here, look at this," he pointed to the screen, "she few stand-by, someone broke into the airline computers and changed her dates." "Can you change them back?" "Of course," Aristotle scoffed, and began tapping away again. "It's difficult, security is tight, but no one can keep me out if I want to get in." "You amaze me." "I'm quite amazing," he sent the job to the printer, and handed the printout to the bartender. "There you are, nice and official looking. I'll print her out a new ticket, and have it delivered to the club. We wouldn't want her to be stranded here, now would we?" * * * Tara balled up her sweater to use as a pillow, and curled up in a ball on the less than welcoming bed. She had slept for about eight hours, she wasn't sure, they had taken her watch. In any case, the last four hours had been pretty uneventful, except that she knew with each passing moment that she must be getting closer to sunset. "I'd sell my soul for a cigarette right about now." "Really?" A voice drawled from the hallway, and LaCroix stepped into sight. ************************************************************* Ravenette With A Mission by Susan M. Garrett It had been a late night. A late night. Or an early morning. Now that Janette was more or less in the clear, Susan had returned to her hotel, determined not to get involved any further in this murder mystery. She'd warned Janette, kept an eye on Scottie and Margaret as long as possible... And she'd even gotten to throw a drink in Nick's face. It was time to go back to the conference and forget that she'd ever heard of vampires. She wasn't, unfortunately, able to forget what a ringing phone could do to a person in a sound sleep. After she'd peeled herself off the ceiling and had fallen back to the floor, Susan managed to knock the phone out of the cradle and muttered a "Mmmrrff," into what might have been the correct end of the receiver. "Tara's being held by the police." Still half-tangled in blankets, her eyes closed, Susan recognized the voice as Janette. "What time is it?" There'd been a brief hesitation as Janette had checked her bearings. "Before--oh--um--noon." "Call me after four," said Susan, then blindly tried to put the phone back into the cradle. "Don't you --" . Susan crawled back into the bed, her eyes half-open by this point, then placed her hand over the phone receiver. As she expected, the phone rang almost immediately. She picked it up, but Janette had already begun talking. "--Going to pretend that didn't happen. Someone has gone to quite an effort to prove that Tara murdered this police captain--" "Couldn't have," yawned Susan, still wrapped in blankets. "Tara didn't arrive until after Stonetree was dead. I saw her." She half-opened her eyes again and noticed that someone had left a crack in the drapes. irresponsible. If there had been a vampire asleep, they would have been toast-- "--You'll have to speak with Nicola and his friends. Between your statement and the papers Aristotle has created, there should be--are you to me?" "Mmmmrrrfff," Susan managed again, closing her eyes and pulling the covers over her head. She started to drift off, but the words 'public transportation' made her shoot straight up in bed. "What?" "God only knows where Alma's parked my car, Miklos' Volvo is in the shop--" "Serves him right for buying a Volvo," grumbled Susan. "And his DeLorean--" "He has a DeLorean?" she asked, in horrified surprise. "Well, yes." Janette's voice lowered conspiratorially. "But you mustn't say anything--he's very sensitive it." "I can imagine." Yawning again, Susan leaned over and picked up her eyeglasses from the night table, bits and pieces of Janette's explanation fitting into place. "So all I have to do is a little fetch and carry--get the papers from Aristotle and Miklos, drop them off at the station, have a chat with the people in charge, and take Tara out of there, right?" "You been listening," noted Janette, somewhat surprised. "Can this wait until I've had some sleep?" "No." "I was afraid you were going to say that." Susan stared across the room, which was still somewhat fuzzy, even though she was wearing her eyeglasses. "You know what Tara's going to say when she finds out we're taking the bus back?" By then the line was dead. With a sigh, Susan hung up the phone and crashed back down on the bed. **************** With a flick of her fingers, Susan spread the documents out on the table of the interrogation room and stared up at a weary Detective Schanke and an annoyed Captain Cohen. "So you see--" she finished, "Tara have killed Captain Stonetree." Cohen picked up the plane tickets and looked at then suspiciously. "Someone went to a lot of trouble to 'frame' your friend. Fake tickets, tampering with reservations--" Schanke picked up the rest of the papers and met the Captain's eyes. "Nothing says these are the real McCoy, either." "But I am," promised Susan. She crossed her heart and held up three fingers on her right hand. "Scout's honor." Palms flat on the table, Schanke loomed over her. "You could be lying. What's your part in all this?" "An innocent tourist--" "Who happens to be staying in the room adjacent to the scene of a murder? Who happens to be friendly with the two witnesses who discover the body? And--hey--you were at the club when we picked up Janette for questioning." He turned toward Cohen. "She threw a drink in Nick's face." "Did she?" asked Cohen, an eyebrow raised slightly. "He deserved it." Susan blinked. "You aren't going to arrest me for that, are you?" "As far as I know, it's not even a misdemeanor, unless it comes under the category of 'interfering with an on-going police investigation.'" Before Cohen could pursue matter any further, Susan rose from her seat at the table. "Well, you have my hotel room number and my information. If you could get Tara out of the clink and up here, I'll stop bothering you and leave you guys to your investigation. Unless--" She paused, eyeing each of them in turn. "Unless you plan to Tara...?" Again, Schanke and Cohen exchanged glances, then Cohen gave an exasperated sigh. "Tell them to bring her up, Schanke. And warn her--" she looked back at Susan, "warn them not to leave town until we tell them they're free to do so. We may have more questions." Susan let out a breath as she watched Cohen leave. So much for making her flight home... Then Schanke turned toward her. "We'll have your friend up here in a few minutes. The nice officer at the door will keep you company in here until your friend arrives. Wouldn't want you roaming around the station. Lots of dangerous and savory characters." A glance at the female officer at the door and another at Schanke, and Susan decided to return to her seat. She didn't protested as Schanke gathered up all of Aristotle's lovely forgeries--and they nice--and exited. With a sigh, she leaned her chair back against the wall and stared at the mirrored glass opposite, knowing that there was a room beyond, where someone could watch the interrogation unseen. Not that it mattered. She'd told the truth... Or as much as she could. It had been easy, really. And now came the worse part. How on Earth was she going to tell Tara that she'd left most of her spare change at home and that they'd have to take the subway--or a bus--back to the Raven. After another sigh, she decided that it just wasn't worth thinking about. ************************************************************* Ev'rything I've Got... by Tara LJC O'Shea Tara balled up her sweater to use as a pillow, and curled up in a ball on the less than welcoming bed. She had slept for about eight hours, she wasn't sure, they had taken her watch. In any case, the last four hours had been pretty uneventful, except that she knew with each passing moment that she must be getting closer to sunset. "I'd sell my soul for a cigarette right about now." "Really?" A voice drawled from the hallway, and LaCroix stepped into sight. * * * LJC stood in the corner of the interrogation room, softly singing. "I have eyes for you, to give you dirty looks. I have words that do not come from children's books. There's a trick with a knife that I'm learning to do... And ev'rything I've got belongs to you..." "Do continue. I am so fond of music," LaCroix stepped inside the room view, and the song died in her throat. A uniform followed, a glazed look on his face, and stood, motionless and unseeing, against the wall. "You're in early. Are we still playing at being a Detective? I suppose you've come to see if my time in jail has made me more talkative." "You waste your time, your potential, following Janette." "I do not think of it so much as following as like- mindedness." She lifted her chin a fraction. "Do you always hold yourself in such high regard?" LaCroix's eyebrow climbed as she attempted to stare him down, and a fierce light came into her eye. "Yes. I have a tremendous ego. You know that I'll support your Nicholas, if it pleases me. I'll support you, if it pleases me. And I will play both of you against each other, if it suits me." "Ah, yes. You are the one who preaches the benefits of fence sitting, I remember you well now." "Should I be flattered that you remember me?" "Are you?" "A bit." She conceded that much, almost flippant, and despite himself, LaCroix chuckled, reaching out and tracing her jaw. Her throat went dry. "What a delightful mortal you are." "I think that if you took the time, you'd find that we are all delightful in our own little mortal ways. As a matter of fact, I think you do. Why else have your Cousins? Why else allow us to play our little war-games?" "You're quite right. I allow it, for now, because it amuses me." "I am not your jester, LaCroix, put here for your amusement." Her dark eyes burned, and he released her jaw. "Aren't you?" "I harbour no grand illusions that you actually think about me when I'm not here in front of you. We have met, what, three times? Should I be grateful then, *dear Oncle*, that you choose to let my existence continue out of your inexhaustible benevolence?" "My benevolence has limits. Do not test them." His blue eyes flashed amber. "Is that a warning?" "Merely a suggestion, take it as you will. You are playing with fire, little girl." "I've always liked to watch things burn." She repeated the words she had uttered to Janette oh so long ago, without thinking, then grew silent. "You do pay close attention, don't you." "I must do something with eternity. I am curious, if I was here to kill you now, here, what makes you think the world would miss your pretty words?" Something in his tone, not just the mocking, not just the arrogance, but something else, something that said more about his opinion of the world and her place in it, made her temper bristle, and without thinking, and most likely not particularly wisely, she lashed out. "Shall I put words in your mouth, shall I? After all, that is what I do, isn't it. Let's see... Oh, here's a good one. 'What care I for human hearts? For mortal tears? Mortal death, and decay?' Yes, I like that, just the right kind of elevated, literate over the top line, I can see it. Ah! But you see, dear *Oncle* that won't work any more. You see, we know about Fleur, and it made us feel ever so... Sympathetic and sorry for you! Knowing that you could feel love for a *mere mortal* such as us has softened our attitudes considerably. Despite what I am sure you are thinking, I'm not mocking your love, no need to get all sharp toothed and angry with me. I believe that you believe it was love, as did Fleur, and so it was as real for you as it would have been for me. What I take umbrage at is your lying to yourself for 700 years, and trying to destroy Nicholas and Natalie rather than face the truth. I never thought of you as a coward until now." One second he was staring at their reflections in the 2-way glass, seemingly only half listening to her tirade, the next one of his cold hands had closed around her throat, and she gasped, licking her lips as she tried to draw breath. The uniformed thrall continued to stare blankly ahead, and she could expect no help from that quarter, obviously. But he did not crush her throat. "Are you afraid?" he whispered in her ear, his breath caressing her cheek. "Of course I am, I'd be a fool not to." He could feel her words vibrating against his hand, her pulse beating wildly beneath his palm. "You can kill me, without very much effort on your part, may I add. But what would that bring you? A moment of pleasure, and then... Then nothing. I will be dead, you will still be alive, and nothing will have changed." Despite her precarious position, she had not moved, her eyes locked with his and unwavering. It was more bravado than anything, but it was all she had to use against him. It was all he ever allowed her. "Perhaps that moment of pleasure would be worth it." "Perhaps." She continued not to resist, not to give him an inch, and this pleased him, despite the fact that he usually abhorred defiance from her kind, since it could never be backed up by actions. LaCroix laughed. It was a chilling sound. He removed his hand, and Tara's shoulders slumped as she touched her throat, shivering. She recovered, her eyes continuing to shine with fury, but she would do nothing foolish, not tonight. "You're so full of venom, I'd wager you saved all this up, just waiting for this night." "Perhaps. I may not have eternity, I must take my small pleasures when I can. Wars bring out the very worst in me." "Are you quite finished with my character assassination?" "Almost, I just have one last thing saved up, do let me say it, I've waited so long." "Be my guest." "I was under the impression there was no such thing as conditional love, LaCroix. No 'only if you do as I say, I will love, and if you do not do what I saw, I shall no longer love you' You love as you love, regardless of what your love does." "Have you ever been in love?" "No," she admitted freely. "Then hold your tongue." "Your wish is my command." She bowed, and he chuckled. "Sometimes I think I am a fool," she reflected, watching him, but he did not seem to hear her. Or at least did not mark her, his mind was on other things than whether or not she was a fool. "Join me." He clasped his hands behind his back and faced her, but it was not a command, though it was more than a request. LaCroix did not ask, he demanded. "What? Defect? I can't see myself as one of your pets." Tara made a face at the thought. Mortal or no, she was no one's pet. "You do them an injustice," LaCroix countered. "Do I? Karin and Jennise don't know me from Eve, we interacted almost not at all in the past, so perhaps I do. Yet you know John and I have had our differences. Tuna is so... Inelegant." "Nevertheless, he has served me well." "There's that word again. Serve." She began to pace. "What would you ask of me?" "Only to lend the cousins the use of your devious mind for the duration of this pitched battle." "'Neither a borrower nor a lender be.' If I lent it, would I get it back again?" "You have my word." "That and a quarter will buy me a gum ball," she snapped, and one hand curled into a fist. "Don't make me question the value of your word. It might make you angry, and make me dead." "Think on it." "Oh I will, believe me. In wartime we all seem to suffer from illusions of grandeur, but I hardly see myself as your favorite. What if my answer doesn't please you?" "Then... Then we shall see." LaCroix held out his open hands, and then dropped them as she continued to eye him warily. Then she took a deep breath, and all tension vanished from her form, a catlike trace of a smile crossing her face as she regarding him from beneath her lashes, shaking her auburn hair out of her eyes. "You could kill me. You could destroy me, and no matter what I could imagine, I know it would be a thousand times worse." She stated it as the fact it was, nothing more, nothing less, and then the smile returned. "It's not much fun when they don't fight back, is it?" "No," LaCroix admitted, but then a sparkle came into his blue eyes. "But I think you've still quite a bit of fight left in you." He signaled to the guard, who stepped forward and unlocked the door. Tara squeezed her eyes tightly shut, as if drowning out the sight could change where she was, what had happened to her. On the table in front of her was a crumpled packet of cigarettes, and matches. A gift, she supposed. She lit up and watched the smoke curl towards the ceiling. Her hand was shaking. She looked up as the door opened, and Det. Schanke entered. "Come to arrest me, Detective?" "Nope, to give you your walking papers, your friend is outside." "Huh?" "Your story checked out, you're free to go." "Tell me, does that IA guy know this?" "Not yet, why are you askin'?" "No reason." Tara dropped the cig to the floor and ground it out with her heel, leaving a black smudge on the linoleum. Schanke frowned, but didn't say anything, she knew however long since he'd quit, he was still wishing he could have one too. * * * Susan looked up as Schanke lead Tara out of an adjoining interrogation room. Despite getting some well-deserved sleep, her face was still a bit pasty, the skin around her eyes tight, and she had dark smudges beneath her eyes. "Sweetie, you look like shit," Susan hugged her, and didn't even say anything about the lingering smell of cigarette smoke in her clothes and hair. They started down the hallway to the main entrance, past pimps, pushers, ladies of the evening and tired cops. "You look like you could have used a bit more sleep yourself. Cab waiting downstairs?" "Not exactly." "What exactly do you mean, 'not exactly?'" Tara looked at her warily, and Susan put an arm around her. "Think of it as an adventure..." ************************************************************* You Should Have Seen His Face! by Cousin Candice The four, yes four, women walked into the Royal Constellation's lobby and promptly dumped their traveling bags on the nearest bellhop's cart. They walked over to the front desk to pick up the keys to the suite they'd arranged for two days ago when they'd first heard about the murder. "I know I should have left the Caddy after I left it in Nick's usual parking space, but I just couldn't help myself!" and Jen started laughing all over again. She had "volunteered" to return the Caddy. Jen had stayed behind when, after being tipped off by a pencil pusher (i.e. James in a pilfered uniform) that his car was back at the precinct and Nick had come running out into the parking lot to see if it was, in fact, there. Candice had left one last black box with a purple bow in the trunk of the car. When Nick had inspected the outside of the car, making sure there was no damage to the body of the car, he made a search of the inside. "He looked so... Brick-like--you know absolutely without a *clue* when he popped the trunk and pulled out the box! Oh, but when he pulled the Armor All(tm) out of the box... You should have seen his face!! It was _priceless_." "You know, I think the look on Steff's face must have matched the one on Nick's when James greeted us at the side door of the forensics' lab," Candice pitched in. "James, you never did tell us how you managed to get the uniform, *or* how you got access into forensics equipment. So do tell." Steff turned to James, expecting an answer as they waited for the elevator, trying not to feel guilty for putting the goldfish in the thermos she now carried. "Well, it was all part of what Uncle wanted Caile to do. The precinct was so swamped with people, that no one would notice if two of the lab technicians were 'replaced.' So while Caile ransacked the metro-police files for more information on the ex-captain of the hour, I waited for you guys to show up. Simple as that." The elevator arrived and they piled in, pushing the button for the appropriate floor. "So did she find anything?" Jen asked. "Well, no. As she searched the database, the information on him changed, and from what you told me you guys found, it's nothing useful or in keeping with what Dawn knew, or supposedly knew." Candice snickered and said "So someone else is one up on the cops," "At least we know it's not Sarah Welsh. She was with us." The bellhop held the door open for them as they exited the elevator and headed down the hall to their suite. Steff whistled appreciatively when they opened the double doors to the cream and rose colored decor of the main room of the suite. There were two rather comfortable looking couches and some cushy chairs. Off to the left was the bedroom with the adjoining bathroom. The bellhop set their bags next to the couches and told them if they needed it, there was a folding cot in the closet. "Is there anything going on later this evening in the hotel?" "There's Kareoke night in the Tiki bar a little later on in the evening, but other than that, nothing out of the ordinary." Candice thanked him and handed the guy a $10. Hey, it was Uncle who was paying--why not be generous? "Rest up girls," Candice said with a grin, "for tonight, we celebrate." ************************************************************* Wha? Who me? Why? (Why not?) by Croaker *Why am I in Toronto?* was the first thought that fizzled through the youth's mind as fingers tapped away at the laptop's keyboard. *And why am I sitting here in the Raven?* "Oh, I don't know..." came a rather surprising voice. "Perhaps it's the ambiance?" "That's what they all say, isn't it? Especially the Ravenettes." "Of course. But what is it you do all night with that toy, hm?" "Oh, lurk on a dozen or so mailing lists, especially the FK stuff - why else would I be here, hm? And MUSH a lot." A few minutes' discussion established that the second speaker had no idea what MUSHing was, and an explanation ensued. "Virtual improvisational acting" was the final summary of it all, along with description of the (many) worlds the typist was currently playing in. "It's fun... And it keeps me out of these wars of yours." "Oui, so it would. And yet here you are..." "That's what Lurkers do. Lurk. Sometimes we just have to speak up, make ourselves heard. Besides, they're very similar in principle." "But much more... Interactive, non?" "Oh yes. And much, much more detailed. But I must sound like some sort of silly propagandist, no?" "Only a little. Would you like a drink?" "Just Pepsi, thanks. I almost never drink alcohol, and the House Special... Isn't really to my taste. Yet. We'll see." "So we will, young one. So we will." "So, have you figured out why I'm here yet?" "You answered it yourself, non? 'Why not?'" The no-longer-lurking Lurker thought for a moment, and nodded. "Good point. Hey, isn't that..." but the other was gone. ************************************************************* Paper Chase (1) by Gaylin "Jasmine" Walli and Tami La Frank "Well would you look at that," Jasmine said as she surveyed the parking lot at the precinct. Tami followed her gaze and watched as a mint-green Cadillac pulled in to the parking lot. "Wait a minute? Who's that driving Nick's caddy?" "It looks like a woman. Not someone I know." "Well, she's obviously had a good time. Looks how she's smiling." Tami made a face. "Probably relieved to be out of the car. I love the classic look, but the color is atrocious. And besides, that kind of caddy drives like a warthog on wheels." Jasmine chuckled and raised an eyebrow. "And I suppose that VW of yours is any better?" "Don't mock my VW. The color and pinstriping are cool. Besides, I'd how many cars can do a wheelie, hmmm?" "And you complain about my driving?" As they continued watching the woman, they noticed that she wasn't leaving the vicinity. Instead she had taken up residence on a nearby bench, trying for casualness, but obviously waiting for someone or something. It wasn't fifteen minutes later that a rather relieved looking detective appeared at the entrance to the precinct and hurried across the lot to his car. "You'd think it was his lover," Tami remarked as they watched him carefully inspect the outside of the car, obviously looking for any damage. "Look at how he caresses the paint." "If he spent as much time on a woman as he does caressing that car, maybe he'd have a real love life. Wait," Jasmine paused, "what's he opening the trunk for?" "Looking for stowaways?" supplied Tami questioningly. "Odd, though. I'd be climbing into the car and checking to see if anyone had moved the seat around. It's a pain in the butt to adjust those bench seats." "Our mystery woman seems to paying attention to him now." Jasmine gestured with a nod of her head. "Look how she's trying to see what he's doing." Indeed, the woman was trying very hard not to fall off the bench she was occupying as she craned her neck to see past the lid of the trunk. "He's got something. Look." Tami pointed toward the caddy again. Nick had closed the lid and was opening a small black box. The two of them nearly laughed out loud when they saw the look on Nick's face as he lifted out a bottle of Armor All. "Oh, that's rich. Whoever did that has a true sense of humor." Tami tried valiantly, but failed to control her chuckles. "I really wish I had thought that one up." Jasmine muttered an oath. "Looks like our mystery woman has flown. We should have been paying better attention." She looked at her watch and then back up at the caddy. "What do you say we wait about five minutes after Nick gets back inside and then do a little recon, like good little investigators? Besides, I know your dying to check the car out more closely." She snorted. "You and your old cars!" "Yep. Me and my old cars." repeated Tami, gleefully rubbing her hands together at the thought of poking around not only a well-maintained classic caddy, but Nick's car to boot. she thought. ************************************************************* Paper Chase (2) by Tami LaFrank Mercenary for Janette Gaylin "Jasmine" Walli, Ravenette Tami kept glancing impatiently at her watch, waiting for Jasmine to signal an all-clear. She really wanted to take a look inside Nick's car. , she mused. If he was anything like her husband, she'd probably find a dirty t-shirt under the seat. she corrected with a mental smirk. A lull in activity after the change of watch at the precinct allowed the two women to carefully make there way to the caddy. With the top still down, it was easy to get inside. "Try not to look obvious," whispered Jasmine. She snickered. "And try not to drool. It'd be a shame to ruin that *fine* upholstery." Tami snorted. she thought and ran a hand over over the seat on the driver's side of the car. Jasmine's voice cut into her revery. "Leave a door a bit open, just in case," came Jasmine's careful whisper from the back seat. "He's never used these seatbelts. Can you believe it?" Then a short chuckle. "Well, at least you don't have to worry about finding half chewed gummi bears or stale french fries." "You got that right. Now, what are we looking for?" "Well, I'd be satisfied with just about anything that would help the Ravenette's right now." "Could you be more specific?" "Nope." "Great," she replied in frustration. There was an audible click from the front seat. "Well, there's absolutely nothing in this glove box," whispered Tami, dismayed. "You'd think he'd at least have a pen or some tissues or something. Or maybe parking tickets like the rest of us." Tami paused. "'Cept for you maybe. You'd horde speeding tickets." "For you're information I have *never* received a speeding ticket. I always seem to know when there's a cop getting ready to gun me with the radar detector." Tami's quiet sarcasm floated over the seat. "Well that makes me feel *so* much safer now." She smiled to herself. The friendly bickering about Jasmine's driving habits had become regular practice between the two. "Are you implying--" Jasmine started to protest and then stopped suddenly. "What?" "There's something under this seat." The rustle of plastic followed, but a sound not that far from the car attracted Tami's attention. "I think we're going to have company in a few seconds. Grab whatever it is and let's get out of here." Two off-duty officers, obviously leaving late from work, were walking in the general direction of the caddy. "Okay we're out of here," said Jasmine clutching a slightly lumpy bag bearing the name of an unfamiliar grocery store. "Go a few cars down until you reach that minivan. Then carefully pop up, act casual, and head for the truck." The two slipped out of the car and headed in the general direction of the alley from which they'd witnessed the return of the caddy. When they reached the truck, and were certain they weren't being followed, Tami remembered the bag. "You stole some one's lunch and I don't think it's Nick's," she said pointing to the logo on the bag. "Let's see what's inside." Jasmine had opened the back slightly. It was the hearty laughter that clued Tami into a really good find. "You're not going to believe this," said Jasmine. "Believe what?" "Oh, this is really good. Really good." Jasmine was wiping the tears from her eyes as she handed Tami a small, brown, furry lump. "It's a stuffed animal," said Tami curiously. "And it's wearing a t-shirt." "It's gets better. Read the bracelet." Her laughter had quieted into controllable chuckles, but resumed when Tami read the tag out loud. "Hi. My name is Geraint. If found, please return to Cousin Caile." Tami doubled over laughing. "Oh this is just rich. I can't wait to tell someone about this." Tears were rolling down her face. "Well, you may just get your chance," replied Jasmine between hiccups. "Look who's walking out of the precinct." She nodded toward the building. Tara and Susan were just walking towards the sidewalk. Starting the truck and pulling out into the street, Jasmine said "Ask them if they need a ride." ************************************************************* Aftermath by Tara LJC O'Shea The sky was a rich blue, the kind you get just after the sun sets, before the black of night. Tara stared up at it as she and Susan headed down the steps of the station to the sidewalk. "I hate getting the bus in the dark," Tara muttered. "Remind me to get a driver's license one of these days." "Hey, Tara?" "Yeah?" "Get a driver's license one of these days." "Gee thanks." Shoving her hands deep in the pockets of her jeans, Tara chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully. "Um, Susan? I did something really stupid today." "All by yourself?" "No. With, you know, Himself." "Big bad Uncle? What did you do?" Susan craned her neck, looking for the bus. Standing out here, what with all that had gone on, made her nervous. "I chewed him out." Tara calmly lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply. "You did WHAT?" Susan's head snapped around and she snatched the cig from Tara's hand, grinding it out with her shoe. "He took me up to an interrogation room to make me a proposition." "He propositioned you?" "No. He wants me to defect." Tara purposefully removed another cig from the crumpled pack, and flicked the lighter a few times until a flame appeared. "And?" "And I said I'd think about it." Susan chewed on this for a long moment, and finally Tara blurted out "Well, what the hell was I gonna say?" "Was this before or after you chewed him out?" "After. Sort of." Tara blew a plume of smoke over their heads. Susan waited. "He asked me to lend him my devious mind for the duration, and I asked if I would get it back again. He gave me his word, and I said 'that and a quarter will buy me a gum ball.'" "You really have no instinct for self-preservation, do you?" "I was tired, and I was angry." "It's a great wonder to me that you've survived this long." There was no sign of the bus, but a truck pulled up, the passenger side window rolled down. "Want a ride?" Tami smiled at them, and Susan could see Jasmine at the wheel. They got in, and the forest green Bronco pulled away from the curb, into traffic. "Where to?" "The hotel, I think we could all use some rest--" Susan began, but Tara cut her off. "No. The Raven. I want to find out who did this to me, who is trying to frame me." ************************************************************* Getting Our Bear-ings (1) by Tami LaFrank for Janette Gaylin "Jasmine" Walli Tami and Jasmine were sitting quietly in their booth at the Raven taking in the conversation between Tara and Susan. "What do you think Jasmine?" Tami queried. "Do you think LaCroix set this all up? I don't think Nick would have tried to implicate Janette much less kill Captain Stonetree. It's just not his style." A commotion at the entrance quickly derailed their conversation. An unidentified woman had burst into the bar and with little warning was now threatening to stake Miklos. While defending himself would have been a simple thing, Miklos obviously didn't have it in his heart to hurt this woman. "This is *not* the kind of situation we need right now," Tami said carefully as she exited the booth with Jasmine. "You want right or left?" "Right," responded Jasmine and the two friends began to make their way around behind the troublemaker. Alma's sudden appearance was quick enough that neither of the two approaching women had seen her move. As they prepared to grab the poor woman, Alma lunged at her and prepared to sink her fangs into her. Only Tara's piercing shout defused the situation. Crisis averted, they returned to their booth. Tami remembered Cousin Caile's bear sitting on the bench and with a frustrated sigh she picked it up and began to smooth it's rumpled fur. "You realize we totally forgot to tell Susan and Tara about this damn bear when we picked them up?" "Damn. You're right. I was thinking so hard about everything they had been talking about that the bear didn't even cross my mind." She reached across the table and tweaked the t- shirt back into place. "Now the question is, what do we do with it?" Miklos appeared at their table bearing two Tequila Sunrises. "I thought you two ladies might be thirsty. Thanks for trying to come to my rescue," he said placing the glasses on the table. "Just doing our job, Miklos." Jasmine smiled. She thought with an inward sigh. Spotting the bear, Miklos raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you a little old to be playing with stuffed animals?" Tami replied. "Oh that, we found him hiding in Nick's car. Check out his id bracelet," she giggled, handing him the bear. Miklos started chuckling as he read. "You really should turn this over to Nick." "Turn what over to Nick?" queried Janette as she came up behind Miklos. "Jasmine. Tami," she acknowledged both women with a little nod of the head. Taking the bear from Miklos, she began to read the id bracelet. Chuckling as she handed it back to Tami, she said, "Why would Nicolah be interested in a Cousin's teddy bear?" Tami quickly explained finding it in Nick's car. "Well, well", purred Janette, "I *do* think Nicolah will be pleased to have a lead on his car thieves. He does so love that car. Perhaps he'll come by later and you can give it to him." Looking back at Miklos, she said "I'm going out with Tara to take care of a little business. Until I return, you're in charge." Tami and Jasmine were nursing their third Tequila Sunrises when Janette returned from their outing. The two friends listened intently as Janette called Nick and related what they had learned from Selma. "I'm really confused now," began Jasmine. "Why would LaCroix hypnotize Heather to finger Tara when he already had Natalie in jail. With Natalie out of the way, he could manipulate Nick back into the fold." "I know, it just doesn't make sense." "Well, let's try logic." ************************************************************* Getting Our Bear-ings (2) by Tami LaFrank for Janette Gaylin "Jasmine" Walli Just as Tami and Jasmine were trying to decide if they should have a fourth drink or switch to something less toxic, Nick burst through the door of the Raven seeking out Janette. After a brief exchange, Nick started to leave. Her courage bolstered by the Tequila, Tami rose to intercept him, taking Geraint with her. "Nick, wait, there's something I need to show you," Tami called out. Nick stopped and turned to her, his eyes flashing angrily. Tami gulped and continued, "My friend, Jasmine, and I happened to be outside the precinct when we saw a woman drive up in your Cadillac. We watched her park it and sit on a bench nearby waiting. After you found your gift in the trunk," Tami grinned, remembering the look on his face, "she left. I'm kind of an old car buff, so, after you and she had left, I couldn't resist a peek inside myself." "You poked around inside my car too." Nick sighed wearily. "Well, you really shouldn't leave the top down if security is all that important to you," Tami huffed. "Geez. All we did was look inside. If you don't want help finding your car thieves, I've got better things to do. Frustrated, Tami turned and began to walk away. "Wait," Nick called, detaining her with a hand on her shoulder. A hand on his forehead made her realize how exhausting it must be to work for the police. "I'm sorry. I'm just a little touchy about my car. It's my baby, you know." Tami relaxed. "Yeah, I know. I love classic cars myself. Mind you, I'd prefer black to that turquoise-green-whatever color, but hey, it's yours not mine," she replied. "As I was saying before, my friend and I were looking inside and we spotted a bag sticking out at an odd angle from under the seat." Curiosity got the better of us and we decided to take a peek in the bag." She fiddled with the bear's jewelry and continued. "That's when everything got a little rushed. Someone was coming and so, without thinking, we took the bag and ran." Nick sighed. "When we stopped, we realized what we'd done but we couldn't take it back, soooo, we opened it. Here." Tami held out the bear in her hands, "This is what was in the bag. Read the ID bracelet." Nick took the bear and read the tag. He started to chuckle. Grabbing Tami in a quick hug, he kissed her quickly on the lips and said, "Thank you. I'll have to keep this as evidence. I *can't* wait to talk to Caile." But then he paused thoughtfully. "I don't suppose you could hold on to this for bit? I mean you aren't leaving anytime soon, right?" "No, we could keep it for you." "Good. It's not like I'll be pressing charges. This is a more personal matter." He grimaced. "With all the confusion going on, I'd probably just lose it myself." He pulled the bear's t-shirt down again and handed the creature back to Tami. "Thanks again. I'll be by to pick him up." Fortunately for Tami, Jasmine had come up behind her. As Nick turned to leave, Tami's alcohol-fortified courage left her and her knees began to give way. Jasmine caught her before hurt herself and they made their way back to their booth. "Too much excitement for you in one night. Maybe you should join the Knighties," she teased, a sly grin on her face. "No way!" Tami shot back. "But I've been thinking." She paused. "I do believe that I'll leave the Mercenaries for the Ravenettes though. Janette does have good taste in men. Nick, Miklos, and even LaCroix, not to mention the lady herself. Yep, I definitely think you have the right idea, Jas. It's the Ravenettes for me." Taking a sip of her drink, she said "Now, weren't we talking about logic?" ************************************************************* Getting Our Bear-ings (3) by Gaylin "Jasmine" Walli and Tami LaFrank "Logic it is then." Jasmine played absently with the swizzle stick in her almost empty drink. "What's the most pressing question on our minds right now?" "Is this a trick question?" asked Tami. "I think everyone wants to know who killed Cap'n Stonetree?" Swirling the ice cubes around in her glass, she debated the idea of another drink. She had been so busy in the aftermath of the attempt on Miklos's life and the subsequent arrival of Nick that she had forgotten to get them a fresh round of drinks. "Want another one?" she asked, gesturing with her empty glass. But Jasmine seemed to be off in her own world. She waved an empty hand in front of her compatriot's face. "Hello? Yoo hoo?" Jasmine's eyes came into focus on Tami's face. "Tami, I don't think the most pressing question *we* have is who killed Joe Stonetree. We're just minor players in this game. There's no way we can find that out. I think we need to find out who framed Janette and why." "So then what's the most pressing question?" asked Tami. "Who stole Janette's choker." "And the answer is?" asked Tami folding her arms across her chest. She watched Jasmine's eyes again as they started to glaze over but this time they quickly refocussed. "Susan Garrett," stated Jasmine with authority. Tami laughed uproariously. "Oh that's really logical, Jas. How could Susan have done it?" Jasmine waved her hands. "No no no. Susan Garrett didn't do it. We need to *think* like Susan would to *find* who did it. She does this little logical progression thing that always baffles the hell out of me until I get to the end and wonder 'Why the heck didn't I think of that first?'." "So we're back to logic." Tami supplied, uncrossing her arms and leaning forward on the table. Steepling her fingers under her chin, she asked "What kind of yahoo would want to steal Janette's choker?" "Exactly. What *kind* of person would?" asked Jasmine pointing her swizzle stick at Tami. "A bad person?" asked Tami sarcastically, raising her eyebrows. "Nope. A *non-human* person." Jasmine tapped the rim of her glass for emphasis. "You mean a vampire stole Janette's choker?" "Yep. Who else could have gotten in the back without Janette's permission? No human I know of." She shrugged her shoulders "Think about it, Tami. Security is just too tight. It would have taken a vampire to do it." "Okay, then what's the next question, which vampire?" "Let's go through them," she paused, ordering names in her head. "Assuming Janette wouldn't steal her own necklace for the privilege of being humiliated in a police station, the first is Nick." Tami snorted. "No motive. And too squeamish. Besides, if Stonetree had found anything out about him being a vampire Nick woulda whammied the Cap'n first thing." She popped a few pieces of ice in her mouth and sucked on it. "What about Jennise and whats-her-name?" she asked through her mouthful. "Karin. Nope, neither of them, I think. Too young. Too new to their powers. They'd never get past Miklos or Alma. And I would guess that fact would allow us to include just about any of the fledglings that hang out around here too." "Well, what about Miklos or Alma then?" "Didn't leave the floor all night. I asked about that one earlier. Busy night that night. They could barely keep the glasses clean." She paused going through her mental list. "The Baroness? Naw, toss that one. She liked Nick too much even when she left. It's too risky for her to be back. She'd be recognized by too many humans and that would too much of a risk to the rest of the community. How about Daniel?" "Possible," admitted Tami, "but I'd seriously wonder about a boy that small appearing in a bar that late at night. Wouldn't you wonder why he wasn't home in bed?" "You're right. Scratch him too." Jasmine paused, "Who else?" Tami began searching for names of the other vampires she knew of. "Feliks? Aristotle? Constantine?" Jasmine shook her head. "None of them want to mess with one of LaCroix's older children. Plus, it's bad for the businesses they all run. Anyone else?" "LaCroix." "Again a possibility. But ya know," asked Jasmine, gesturing with her swizzle stick again, "I think it would be hard for him to come in here without Janette feeling those little twangs that make her shiver. There may be other vampires who do that to her, but not as strongly as LaCroix does, I think. She would have known it was him." Tami exhaled heavily. "That doesn't leave us with anyone." "Nick. Miklos. Alma..." the litany continued as Jasmine counted vampires names on her fingers. "OHMIGOSH," she exploded slapping both palms on the table and standing up, "we forgot one very important person." "Who?" asked Tami excitedly. "Alexandra." ************************************************************* Getting Our Bear-ings (4) by Gaylin "Jasmine" Walli and Tami LaFrank "Alexandra," repeated Tami, a little deflated. She had expected something a little more spectacular than the Bimbo Barmaid. "Yes Alexandra." Jasmine was practically vibrating. "Oh *please* stay excited with me," she begged. "We may have just figured out an important piece of the puzzle. Don't you see?" Tami slowly shook her head. "I'm sorry, Jas. I just don't get the connection. Start me on the walk-through and we'll see if I can catch up." Jasmine practically dove back into her seat in the booth and scooted right up to Tami. "Okay, first is motive." Jasmine held up her index finger. "Alexandra has one. Probably a bigger one than anyone else. Who does she want dead more than anyone else in the world?" "Nick," stated Tami with certainty. "Good girl. Got it first try. Now, second." She held up a second finger. "She's already tried to kill Nick once and failed miserably. What's the next best thing to do?" "Uhm, really piss him off?" Tami squinted. "Two for two," she beamed proudly. "And how would you do that if you were her?" "Hurt someone he really cared for," Tami replied. Reality began to dawn in her eyes and her jaw dropped open. "She had to have know about Stonetree's murder too." Tami was bouncing in her seat now, forcing Jasmine to bounce with her. "She stole it! She stole it!" She's just old enough to have the skill. Young enough looking to not attract attention. What's one more vampire at the Raven, righ'? Oh, Jas, do you know what this means?" she asked grabbing her friend by the shoulders, "This means we have a piece of the puzzle!" The bouncing came to an abrupt halt. "How did she know about the choker? I mean..." Tami paused, running a hand over her short hair, "How would she have known where to look. Someone had to have told her." This time Jasmine started the bouncing. "But we do know! We know! Don't you see? Think, Tami! Think really hard." Bounce. Bounce. Bounce. And then a very wide smile. "LaCroix." With that, the two friends toasted with their empty glasses and bounced off to find Janette and tell her of their conclusions. ************************************************************* Something Smells Fishy... Or Is That Roasted Lamb? by Cousin Candice "That was definitely a sneeze" Candice said as she pushed her seat away from the computer terminal. She rose from her seat and motioned for everyone to stay quiet as they rushed to check the other rooms of the apartment. There were only two-- the bedroom and the bathroom. Jen and Steff went off on her own to check the closets while Caile stayed behind to guard the front door. Candice banged open the bathroom door, leaving a crack where her foot had connected with flimsy wood. She approached the shower curtain cautiously, just in case the person who sneezed was in there. Candice yanked back the curtain to find... Nothing but a shower. Candice leaned back against the wall thinking to herself At the same time Candice was rifling through the bathroom, Jen and Steff had made a discovery of their own. "Sarah? What the hell are you doing here?" Steff hissed. "Just doin' my job, I'm officially a Merc now, god help me, and I was tipped off--Dawn thought someone'd be here, so she hired me to do someth-" Sarah was cut off by Jen, covering her mouth when Candice shouted, "Nothing in here... I'm getting back to my work." As soon as they heard her footsteps echoing down the short hallway, the three Mercs heaved a sigh of relief. "Ok, I'd better get back to Candice, just so she doesn't think something's up. Steff, Get Her Out Of Here." Jen hugged Sarah, then said "Welcome to the Guild." as she headed out the door, Sarah's mini tape recorder in hand. Jen walked into the living room to see Candice sitting behind the terminal at the old fashioned black desk. Jen peered over her shoulder and pressed play on the tape recorder--a sneeze issued forth. Candice jumped out of her seat and turned to see Jen grinning at her. "Here's your sneeze." Jen snickered and tossed the contraption to Candice who caught it snarling. "Someone else was IN here You've got to be KIDDING ME!!!" Jen shook her head and flopped into the futon staring absently at the ink paintings and prints on the walls. "No, I kid you not. Someone else was in here at the same time as us, or possible before us. So either they *knew* we were coming, or had an agenda of their own." Candice was furious. *How* could ANYONE have known they'd be here. It wasn't like they'd broadcasted their plans to anyone, unless... "Did you tell any other Mercs that you were coming _here_, to Ontario? Did you?" Candice glared at Jen from across the room, her anger towards the Merc was almost palpable. "No. It's part of our charter that unless we're working together that our missions remain secretive and our employers have anonymity." Jen spat out her words at Candice, feeling her own temper quickly getting out of hand. Candice noticed the Merc's changing attitude and reigned herself in--no sense in creating more tension in an already tense atmosphere. "Alright, alright, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you, it's just that I think I've got something here and another person to deal with is NOT what we need right now. Come take a look." Just then Steff joined them in the living room. "Take a look at what? And where's Caile? I just looked out the front door and she's not there." Steff looked utterly perplexed then thought to herself Steff joined her fellow Merc and current employer behind the screen of the 486 It was an antique really, well compared to Uncle's Silicon Graphics system, Candice had mentioned earlier that LaCroix, contrary to popular belief, was up to date on his computer knowledge. (Candice had only glanced around his "office" briefly when she'd gone to visit Caile a while back.) Candice called up Dawn's Word Perfect 6.0, and clicked the mouse onto the JOURNAL.WPD. The window blinked and up came a listing of Dawn's journal entries from late January up until April first. "I have no idea where Caile is, she's probably just taking a cigarette break... Okay, look at this. It seems Dawn was keeping a journal in her hard drive." Jen walked over to the kitchen table where she'd left the letter and tax return, thinking that maybe they'd tie in to what Candice was looking up. "And the last entry was made March 31st, but that's not really important. It's all the other entries she made." Candice clicked up to a week prior to the murder of Stonetree in Dawn's files. What they all read made their jaws come unhinged. Journal entry: #73 I went to the souvlaiki place again today for lunch. I know it's stupid, just sitting there with my bag lunch watching that man write, but what can I say. He's so pensive, he's totally preoccupied with his blue book. All consumed. He keeps turning over his shoulder, as if he expects to see someone watching him. Journal entry: #74 Aside from avoiding filing my tax return today, I went and wasted more time at The Happy Souvlaiki Deli. Though something was different today. The owner(?) of the deli called him by his first name--Joe, she'd said, but he didn't respond. Either he was out in orbit, or she was mistaken. Maybe Joe *wasn't* his first name. Other than that it was business as usual. I sat there with my untouched souvlaiki (being a vegetarian and a snoop has it's deterrents), watching Joe(?) write in his diary, eating his Chinese chicken salad--hold the chicken(why anyone would that in a place known all over Toronto for it's souvlaiki is beyond me...) Yes, I've come to the conclusion he's writing in a diary--possibly his memoirs... Before Candice could go any further into the files, Jen cleared her throat and decided to put her two or more cents in on the hypothesizing. She grabbed one of the folding chairs, straddled it and tossed the two items on top of the keyboard. "The letter has some kind of instructions for Dawn to go to Tibet, for some reason or another. It doesn't seem likely that this trip was expected, that would explain the fact that there was no entry in the journal for April 1st." Steff picked up the tax return and started thumbing through the pages. looking for any reason as to why Dawn would up and leave like she did. A small piece of paper fell to the floor at Candi's feet. She picked it up and cursed loudly in Greek for at least five minutes. "What's wrong?" Steff asked, almost timidly. "THIS is what's wrong, Caile's gone. She and James took off for Uncle's place--Caile called him while we were searching and he said he needed her back at his place pronto for some 'research'..." Candice held her head in her hands, leaning on the desk. "Well," Jen said in her most firm voice "we can either go after them, or get on with our work here, but I doubt we'd be able to convince them to come back... Knowing how devoted Caile is to LaCroix." "Ahh... You're right Jen... Let's get on with this," and with that, Candice went back to work. While Jen and Steff talked out the various reasons Dawn may have left, Candice closed the Journal window and clicked to the e-mail address book. She didn't find anything suspicious- -no undefined email addresses, but she *did* find a useful address. One for a Tracy Clarke--the nickname defined was Cousin. thought Candice as she transcribed the address into her little black book. And then she burst out laughing. Steff and Jen both turned to her, equally as confused as to why Candice was laughing. "Well, what is it?" they asked in unison. "Guys, think about it. When was the last entry dated?" "March 31st. But I don't see... Ohmygoddess" and Jen started to laugh with Candice, finding the coincidence just as funny. Steff just stared at the two women puzzled, and then it hit her... Like a ton of bricks. "Some one's played an April fools joke on Dawn! *That's* why she's in Tibet! She's on a wild goose chase!!" Steff's exclamation just sent them off into another round of laughter--nothing like stating the obvious. "Well we can't let her come home to such a neat apartment, now can we? C'mon guys, let's begin..." After she closed all the programs and shut down Dawn's system, Candice grabbed the big black duffel and started unloading it's contents onto the kitchen table. Jen grabbed the three sizable bags of sparkle dust and set them aside for the finishing touches. Candice took the red candles and lit the wicks, letting them melt along the wooden separation between the kitchen and living room... Steff got the green gummy-tack and went to work on the VCRs in Dawn's entertainment system. By the time she was done, no tape would ever be played in *either* of them again. Candice wandered over to Steff's side and nearly fainted--there was a veritable plethora of video cassettes, all with either FK or HL labeled on the sides. "Heh heh,... Jackpot" Candice whispered and shoved the tapes into the almost empty duffle bag. Jen grabbed the Terpeniod (non-flammable) from the duffle and grinned. She dumped a small pool of it on the futon cushion and watched as the colors bled together in a hideous fashion. She spattered some of it on the posters in the apartment, deciding that ruining the prints would be too much, and worked her way around the rooms. "Ugh, this stuff smells *awful*!" Jen grimaced as she returned to the kitchen table. "That's the point," Candice smiled maliciously "It's even worse than grape juice and garlic, speaking of which, I think I'll leave this in the refrigerator..." Candice pulled out the huge, black, plastic cooler from the duffle which was filled, not by chance, with just that concoction. Candice also pulled out a large purple bow, and taped it artfully on the cooler. "Anything else here you think Dawn would miss?" "Oh can we kidnap the goldfish?" Steff pleaded. "And what about _this_ shelf of books?" Jen pointed to the middle shelf, which upon inspection, were all vampire related. "Go for it..." Candice replied, very happy with her particular find. "Hey, what's in this box?" Steff asked, pulling out a foot long, six inch high black box with the trademark purple bow. Steff snickered to herself. "What else? A Dust Buster(tm)!" Candice laughed, bordering on cackling. And with that, they broke open the three bags of sparkles, scattering their contents all over everything. With the amount of junk all over the apartment, excessive wiping would have to be done, even *if* someone called the police, trying to find their finger prints on any surfaces would prove to be futile. The candles had gone out in the over flow of red wax and the three women stepped back to admire their handy work, each donning their black leather gloves once again. "Well ladies, I think our work here is done. Shall we?" "Where to?" Jen, walked towards the patio door with Candice and Steff in tow. "Toronto Police Department, Forensics to be exact--I want to know who else was with us in the apartment, and I have a feeling we have a friend in that department... Besides, we need to return the Caddy." ************************************************************* Harried and Hopeless by Sarah Welsh Sarah sat back in her motel room in Hamilton with a sigh and virtually "leafed" through the messages that had accumulated over the past several days. An offer of help from a fellow Merc, a possible commission from another faction, an invitation to the Die-Hard's safe house, not to mention innumerable war posts recording this group's deceptions here and that group's disasters there. Episode story lines, screening story lines, filming story lines. So much to keep track of. "Of which to keep track," her overly grammatical English-major mind corrected her. Oh, shut up, she told herself as she reached for the open can of Diet Coke by the laptop. It had been a difficult week. There was, of course, the fact that she had assignments due in Fort Worth nearly every day while she was in Canada. It had been difficult to persuade her professors to allow her to fax her work in. "A death in the family," she explained. After all, there might well be if she got on the wrong side of LaCroix. Or whoever killed Stonetree. If they weren't one and the same person. On top of that had come the realization that all the time she thought she was a real person she was really only a character in an FK episode. Although on this list people who couldn't tell the difference between TV and reality should feel right at home, she grinned and virtually ducked the virtual flames that could virtually be thrown her way if she virtually made her virtual comment virtually public. In a hypothetical sort of way. And then, of course, there had been the ordeal of cleaning up Dawn's apartment. Realizing that being a character in a Forever Knight episode had its advantages, she allowed herself to drift into a flashback. ************************************************************* Looking around the mess the Cousins and Mercs (Jen is your friend, remember, your friend!) had made of Dawn's apartment, she picked halfheartedly at the glittery stuff that covered just about everything before she gave up. Susie Homemaker she wasn't. Reaching for the phone book, she looked up housecleaning services and dialed the first number under the category. An hour later, a very unhappy looking woman surveyed the damage and turned a disapproving eye on Sarah. "Hey, I had nothing to do with it. This isn't my apartment." The woman looked even more suspicious. "I mean, it's my friend's apartment." "Uh-huh," the woman replied. "And what was your friend doing to get this place in such a mess?" Sarah eyed the glittery mess and thought quickly. "Um, she had a party. There was a lot of confetti. That's it, a going- away party. She's in Tibet, you know." A spark of interest lit the woman's eyes. "Oh, really. That's in Kentucky, right? I have an aunt there." Sarah just smiled as the cleaner walked over to examine the wax melted into the wood. "And what's with the candles?" "Birthday cake." The cleaner narrowed her eyes at the hapless Merc. "I thought you said it was a going away party." "It was. It was sort of a combination going away/birthday party. Wellgottagobye." Sarah was out the door before the woman could ask any more questions. She didn't want to try to explain what had happened to the posters. She had decided to just write them off as a total loss and hope that none of them were irreplaceable. A new cover was being made for the futon, and she had the VCRs in her rental car to take in to be repaired. She doubted very much whether they could be fixed, but she had forged warranty papers for them entitling her to brand new replacements in case of fire, flood, or act of Cousins. It was the kind of insurance policy she might be wise to take out on everything. Especially if she could get the fine print to include havoc wreaked by angry vampires. That ought to about cover everything. ************************************************************* Sarah hazed back to reality (such as it was) and shook her head. The one bright spot in the week had been her successful retrieval of Dawn's goldfish from her apartment before Candice and her Mercenaries could get their collective hands on it. She smiled at its little fishy face looking at her through the glass of its bowl and briefly considered giving it some more food until she remembered reading "A Fish Out of Water" when she was a child. "Sorry, little guy," she told it. "No more food until dinner time tomorrow. You ought to be grateful to me. Who knows what your poor third cousin twice removed is going through in the Cousins' clutches? Dawn was afraid they'd put you in with LaCroix' goldfish. His pet is probably part barracuda. Of course, considering I got that replacement fish at Walmart, he probably went belly-up days ago." She returned her attention to the computer screen and decided to refuse all other commissions and/or invitations to join this or that particular battle. It had already been proven that she could hardly handle the one responsibility she had right now. The glowing column of dates on the war posts attracted her attention. Today was April 12. She frowned to herself. Something was supposed to happen around April 12. Of course! Easter weekend was coming up! She thought for a moment and then grabbed up the goldfish bowl before she could change her mind. "Hang on tight, fella," she murmured as she hit C to compose a message. In the To: line, she typed "home." The body of the letter she left blank, but under attachments, she listed "Sarah, goldfish." "We're going home for Easter, fishface. The war can rage on without us for a few days." And with that she hit ^X to send. ************************************************************* Family Troubles (2) by Diane Echelbarger As Nick walked through the processing area, on the way to see this mysterious suspect in the cells, a young girl in stretch pants and an oversized green sweatshirt grabbed his arm. "Please," she gasped, "you've got to help me!" Nick looked into her tear-streaked face, framed by long, straight hair, and remembered... <> "Please, please, you *must* help me!" Isabelle begs, clutching Nick's arm. Janette takes a step closer to the pair. "What is your name, _ma petite_?" she asks. "Isabelle," she stammers. "Isabelle du Brabant." Nick's head snaps up in shock. He stares an Janette, who gives him a "what-now?" look. "Please, milord, milady, don't make me go back," the girl sobs. Nick forces himself to speak casually. "And where will you go, child, if not to your guardian?" "My--my mother's aunt," Isabelle replies. "She is abbess at the Convent de la Sacre-Couer, in the Isle-de-la-Citie. She would take me in, I know she would." "My dear child," Janette says, amused, "I understand why you might not want to marry this Comte your guardian has chosen for you, but is a *convent* a better option? Either way, you are a prisoner, -n'est-ce pas-?" "Oh, I would not be a *nun*, lady," Isabelle says, shocked. "But the abbess will take me in, and she will not make me marry a man I despise, as Lord Henri would." She smiles shyly. "It is not that I do not wish to marry at all; only that I do not wish to marry the Count. He only wants me because my lands border on his, you see." Nick is relieved. Seeing the girl to the convent gates is something he can do easily. "Then by all means, let us see you safely to your kinswoman," he says, tucking her arm under his. Isabelle smiles back at him. "Oh, thank you!" She hesitates. "If I may know milord's name?" "Nicolas," he says. "And the lady is Janette." "-Mon cher-," Janette says through clenched teeth. "A word, in private, if you please?" Nick smiles reassuringly at Isabelle, releases her arm, and steps aside with Janette. "Are you *quite* mad?" she hisses, too soft for the mortal to hear. "She is going to a *convent*, -ma vie-! Hardly somewhere you or I would be welcomed. Let her find her own way; her mortal problems are no concern of ours." "She is family, Janette," he insists. "*I* am your family, and LaCroix," she snaps. "That *mortal* child is not. You left all that behind you two centuries ago. Do not interfere now, Nicolas. LaCroix would not like it." Nick scowls. "He will never know unless *you* tell him," he says. Then, seeing her still scowling at him, he wheedles, "Please, Janette, it will only take an hour, at most, to see the child safely to the gates. Is it so much to ask?" She frowns, thinking about it. "And when she is there, we will hunt where *I* chose?" she asks. He smiles, and caresses her cheek. "Wherever and *whoever* you wish, -ma belle-," he promises. She smiles, and licks her lips slowly. "Very well," she agrees. "An hour, no more." Nick returns the smile, and kisses her hand... <> Nick blinked back to reality as a policewoman pried the girl from his arm. "Sorry, Detective," she said. "She got away from me." "What's she here for?" he asked. "Shoplifting. Her folks have been called." He nodded, and continued on. ************************************************************* Calling All Canadian Cousins & Mercs, eh by Michelle D. Noel and Cousin Craig Hello all. _Frank_ magazine has, from what inside sources tell me, uncovered startling connections between CERK and the CRTC, Nick and the Bloc Quebecois, and you wouldn't believe what dirt they've found about Preston Manning and his Reform party. If you want to know more, or want in on the action resulting from these discoveries, or if you always say "zed" despite the fact that you were born south of the border, please e- mail me or Craig Gilmore (who has finally admitted that he's a Cousin). A special note to Mercs: we are prepared to pay in Molson's, maple sugar chocolate, beaver tails, back-bacon, Stanley Cup finals tickets, GST rebates, or Spanish fishing trawlers. ************************************************************* Random Acts (6) by Diane Echelbarger Schanke yawned and stretched on his way to the kitchen. He scratched his stubbly chin and briefly considering shaving before breakfast. His stomach growled at the idea, and he discarded it. Maybe, if Myra was busy in the yard, he could even manage to have some *real* food... He pushed open the door to the kitchen, and Myra looked up at him, her expression a mixture of ecstasy and guilt. "Oh, Don, honey," she said, "you shouldn't have, but *thank you*! They're *wonderful"! Better than Godiva's!" "Huh?" Schanke began, then sniffed. "Is that chocolate?" He stared suspiciously at the burgundy box on the table. If Myra'd made him eat tofu for dinner when he got home, and then bought chocolate to gorge on while he was asleep... "The ones you had delivered," Myra agreed, and licked her fingers. She smiled ruefully "I only had two, though. I *couldn't* eat any more; they're too rich." She walked around the table and hugged him. "Oh, Don, you shouldn't have! And did Tino Armiros tell you about Chocolate Caper? The flyer in the box says it's somewhere in *Wisconsin*!" He hugged her back, automatically, but then pushed her away. "Myra," he asked, "what do you mean? I didn't have anything delivered." "What?" She frowned. "But, the UPS man said it was paid for, and I was sure it was you, even if you didn't sign the card..." "Didn't..." Schanke stopped, remembering his 'midnight buffet.' "Where's the card? Did you save it?" "It's on the table..." Myra said, puzzled. Schanke pushed her gently out of the way, and picked up the small card carefully by the edges. It was gold foil, embossed with roses. He tipped it sideways, and it fell open. There was nothing written inside. Just like the other one. He picked up the flyer that sat next to the box. "The Chocolate Caper" it proclaimed. "Chocolate so good, it shouldn't be legal!" The cover had a picture of a shop window, with a dog, a cat, and a goose looking in at a display of chocolates. Inside, there were description of Swiss pralines, hand made truffles, and assorted other calorie-laden treats. The box on the table was full of solid blocks of multi-layer chocolate, two inches long, one wide, and one thick. That made them pralines, then. Two were missing from the top layer, but the rest were intact. "Don, what's wrong?" Myra asked, worriedly. He tried to smile reassuringly. "Probably nothing, honey." After all, they'd all eaten the Chinese, and nothing had happened. "I just wondered who sent it. Did you save the box?" "It's in the recycling bin," Myra told him. He pushed open the door to the mud room, and picked the cardboard mailing box out of the bin. The UPS label said it had been shipped from Oregon, WI. That was the address on the catalog, too. It was somewhere near Madison, he thought. So, unless he was dealing with someone so obsessed they'd drive 13 hours to ship a package to Toronto, the chocolates were probably safe. And Tino might have sent them, but Schanke doubted it. He used the scissors they kept by the recycling bin to cut the shipping label free, and tucked it in his shirt pocket. He could probably get the local office to tell him who had really shipped it. If it *was* that place in Oregon, he'd be able to relax. Lots of people knew about Myra's fatal weakness for chocolate; anyone visiting the States *might* have sent it. But he was still going to check it out. It was probably unnecessary, but two anonymous gifts to his family in 24 hours made the cop in him nervous. His stomach growled again, and he went back to the kitchen. He figured he had a pretty good chance of talking Myra into a real breakfast. After all, chocolates weren't on *her* diet, either. (The Chocolate Caper, their literature, logo, and slogan, used with permission of the owners. Details on request. :) ) ************************************************************* Storm Warnings Shadow's War (5) by L. Bruce Gray It was another dark and stormy night. The shadow crept out of the parking lot and headed for a nearby telephone pole. He reached into the folds of his shadow and placed some grippers on the bottoms of his shoes. Then up the telephone pole he went. He used an instrument to search through the wiring on the nearby generator and finally selected a specific outgoing power trunk line. He reached into his cloak and got out another item. Placing it on the wire he had selected, he tied it directly into the generator and threw a small switch. He then got down from the pole and pressed a button on another control. ZZZZZAAAAAPPPPP!!!!! KKKKRRRRZZZZRRRRTTT! Inside the nearby police station the lights all went: Sputterrrrr-PPPPPPoooff! He knew he had only a small amount of time. He went back up the pole and removed the controls he had placed there. Inside the police station there was total chaos. "Find out what happened! And get those lights back on!" yelled Cohen. The shadow slipped quickly back down the pole and raced for the nearby alley. Inside the police station, people were running around trying to get the lights back on. "Must have been hit by lightning!" said Schanke when he looked out the window at the still smoking generator on the telephone pole. "Check everywhere!" yelled Cohen above the din. The custodian came in from the back and brought with him some light bulbs, flashlights, and candles. He began to replace light bulbs and pass out the flashlights and candles. A few minutes later, the power came back after the secondary generators had cut in. But the damage had already been done. "My computer!" was the cry from several voices in the precinct house, as the people began to discover that the electrical surge had blown every circuit in the place, including the ones on sensitive computer data drives. "It'll take days to do the backups and get us back to where we were--and some of today's reports will have to be done over," Schanke said as he began to retrieve some of the paperwork he thought he had already entered once. The shadow went through several back roads and alleys before stopping at an out-of-the-way phone booth. He waited only for the connection to be made before he said, "Home Plate is covered." Then he hung up and disappeared into a nearby manhole. ************************************************************* Knight Dreams by Heather Parks kindly edited by Tara O'Shea Heather woke up in a dark room. Tucked into an old-fashioned canopy bed with white sheets, a white down comforter, and several white pillows. The bed sat in the middle of the room, and in one corner there was a dresser, and a full length mirror. Atop the dresser sat a silver hair bush, two wine glasses and a picture of something. In the opposite corner was red crushed velvet chair with a high back. Nick stood up from the chair and sat the ham sandwich he was eating down, and came to her. "We were worried about you." "Thanks but I--" "Where are the two detectives?" Nick interrupted her, motioning for her to look around. "Are they here?" Her night-gown was lace, also white, matching the bed. Nick grabbed her arm and slowly pulled her to her feet. As she walked down to the dresser Nick followed her, as if worrying that she might fall. She lift the glass and Nick pulled her beside him. She watched her reflection in the mirror as Nick took the pin that held her hair up. Her brown hair fell down to her shoulders as the pin dropped to the floor. As she reached to the dresser Nick tried to tickle her. Looking at Nick again the world seemed spin, until she was on the other side of the mirror watching Nick pulling her toward him and unpinning her hair in slow motion. All she could do was stand there and watch. Coming up beside now her was officer Lucas Cross. All in black with a simple sword pin a on his collar. "Well, wasn't that a wonderful little fantasy," he hissed. The Heather and Nick on the other side stood and looked at her. "But it was that, a fantasy." With that, he broke the mirror. He picked up a piece of glass and started to cut her wrist, til a tall man, who she recognized from the Raven, also in black stopped him. For a brief second she thought he saved her til he she saw his fangs. "LaCroix, you really must share," with that he plunged is fangs into her neck. Beside him was a girl with auburn hair and black suede boots and a gray trench coat, who simply watched. LaCroix looked at the glass, threw it down and said, "Miklos, hasn't Janette taught you any thing about being dramatic?" with that he grabbed her wrist and bit in with a glance at Heather's horror stricken face... And then she woke up. ************************************************************* Cardiac Arrest by Jennie Hayes, Di Sudduth, and Amy Hull Nat sat in the interrogation room, tracing a finger back and forth along the edge of the table while wondering what was going to get broken and how long it would take her to clean up after the search. She sighed and imagined Sydney's reaction to the intrusion. He'd probably hidden when everyone barged in, and she'd be lucky if she didn't come home to find he'd clawed his distress out on the furniture. Leaning her head against her fingertips, she pulled one of the notepads she'd been allowed to keep toward her and began jotting notes on it about things she should double check when she got back to the lab, and trying to come up with something new to check out about Stonetree. This was so ridiculous. How could anyone suspect her? That salesgirl from Darkangels's recognized her? Not possible! "Well, it'll all be over soon," Nat sighed. Her head snapped up when Nick pushed his way into the room, and her hand slowly lowered to the table. Anger and worry were so evident on his features they seemed to radiate from him in waves. He stood next to the door, arms crossed just staring at her, while Schanke followed him into the room at a slightly slower pace, apologizing to someone outside the door. Schanke's face mirrored the worry on Nick's, and there was a great deal of the anger as well. He carried a sheet of paper in one hand. "What is it? What's happened?" Nat's voice took on a rough edge of worry and agitation. "Look at this," Schanke showed her the paper. "I jotted that down--it's the content of some notes we found partially burned in your fireplace. Do you know what that's about?" Nat scanned the paper rapidly. Her eyes widened slightly, and she flickered a look at Nick, whose eyes caught hers for a moment and read the near-panic there, then looked back at Schanke. "My fireplace? I haven't lit a fire in there for weeks, and it was clean last time I saw it," she said, shaking her head. "OK, but what about the notes? Do you recognize any of them?" Schanke persisted. Natalie looked down at Schanke's notes. The first was virtually intact. "Dear Natalie, Thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me this evening. We have a lot of details to work out, but I know if we can sit and talk everything will work out just fine. Thanks for being so understanding. Joe." The second was just a fragment, "I can't begin to tell you how lovely... ... me so happy. If I can... " The third read, "I'm sorry, but his just isn't going to work out. We're going to have to stop..." "Um, let me see," Nat held up the paper and pointed to the bottom. "Well, this last one is from a case Stonetree was asking about a week ago. We were trying out a new system of reporting, but we kept running into glitches. And this first one..." She turned a look of appeal on Nick, who nodded slightly. "Schanke, I think Nat could use some coffee, and tell Cohen before she gets wind of it on her own, please," Nick commented, tearing his eyes away from Nat's face to look at Schanke. "We'll wait for you to get back." Schanke blinked, then looked from Nat to Nick, nodded without a comment, and left the room. As the door closed, Nick sat on the edge of the table. "Who's framing you Nat? And how did they fake these notes?" "The notes are real," replied Nat. "They must have been stolen from my office. The third one really *is* about a new reporting system. But this first one... Stonetree wanted to talk to me about *you*, Nick. Something or someone led him to start asking questions about you, your background... He's on your side, Nick, but something made him suspicious enough to ask. "And this one?" Nick asked, indicating the second message. "This one I'm not really sure of... Let me think," Nat paused in thought then a look of sadness crossed her face. Her voice trembled as she explained, "I... I'm not sure, but maybe. Remember Cynthia? You know how hard her death was for me. Joe was so nice and supportive. We exchanged several notes and a few phone calls. At one point I'd sent him a small gift and a letter to thank him for being so supportive. I think this was his reply. We corresponded a long time with little notes. He was such a *caring* man. I don't know what I'd have done without the two of you..." Nat's voice broke and she brushed away the tears that had formed at remembering her god daughter. "Nat, hey, Natalie," Nick comforted her, "we all know this is a set-up. Don't worry; everything will be just fine." Schanke returned with Captain Cohen and Nat's coffee. "Dr. Lambert," Cohen began, "we're going to need to take a statement from you. We've found additional evidence at your apartment." Nick sprang up from the table suddenly and turned to Cohen with a stern "*What* additional evidence?" "Let's get this on tape, Detective," she replied and gestured to the officer coming in the door. "Wha... What's this about, Captain?" Nat asked, looking rather stunned. "Gentlemen," began Cohen, "please remain, but let me ask the questions." She turned to Nat, "What was your relationship with Joseph Stonetree?" "Captain Stonetree and I were friends. We worked together closely on cases. You know, Captain, much the same as my relationship with you." "And where where you on the night of the Captain's murder?" "Working at the lab." "You weren't there when his body was discovered; we had to page you." "I... I was on dinner break. I know I normally eat in but I went out that night. Errands to run." "What errands?" "I picked up a few groceries and my dry cleaning and was grabbing food to bring back to the lab." "You arrived on the scene almost immediately, Doctor." "I told you I was running errands on dinner break. I was in the neighborhood." Nat shot a scared look at Nick, who was trying to be unobtrusive as he leaned up against the mirror. "And these fragments of letters found in your fireplace?" continued Cohen. "Can you explain these, Doctor?" Nat looked at the photocopies placed in front of her. With a sigh and another glance at Nick she began, "Captain Stonetree and I were working on a new reporting system recently, trying to smooth the paperwork flow. The first note is a request to meet to continue discussing the problem. The third is after we decided the new technique wasn't going to work." "And the second note?" Nat stared at the photocopy in her hands and quickly laid it on the table, hoping no one had noticed the tremor of her fingers. She could not keep her voice totally steady as she explained, "This one I'm not sure of. It might have been the thank you note he sent me for a gift some time ago." The Captain's eyes looked sympathetic, but her voice had a sharp edge. "And what can you tell us about this?" Cohen showed her another photocopy, this one of a receipt. "Darkangel's Dangerous Liaisons" was imprinted across the bottom, right next to what was undeniably Nat's own signature. "It looks like my signature, Captain, but I was never ever there. I've never *been* there. It's not mine." Natalie looked Cohen steadily in the eyes while she said this. "We'll investigate this further, and can you explain how this got under your bed, Doctor?" Cohen asked in the same sharp- edged voice as she produced an evidence bag containing Stonetree's trademark too-small hat. As one, Nat, Nick, and Schanke started. "What?" exclaimed Nat. "Under my *bed*? Captain Stonetree has never been to my apartment! I have no idea..." She was shocked and indignant. Whoever was trying to frame her was doing a pretty good job. She again glanced at Nick, who had resumed his stance leaning up against the mirror. His eyes looked haunted. Nat looked into the depths of the mirror, idly wondering who was behind it, watching her. A chill ran down her spine and she was suddenly filled with dread. * * * Behind the glass, Captain Cross had a huge smile on his face as the voice over the speaker said, "Dr. Lambert, I'm very sorry but you are under arrest. We'll call the Crown to arrange for an attorney and we will begin to check out your story." * * * Later, in Cohen's office, Nick paced. "Captain, you can't," Nick insisted. "I mean it, Knight. You're too involved. I'm assigning this investigation to another team." "But, Captain!" Nick protested "Drop it, Knight." The Captain was firm. "Fred Fielder is a good cop." Nick and Schanke exchanged dubious looks, but she continued, "He'll clear Dr. Lambert... If she can be cleared." Nick still looked skeptical. "One slip, and his ficus is out the window," Schanke threatened. ************************************************************* And For The Defense by Elaine Polemenakos Natalie was still fuming about her confrontation with Sheppard when she heard the guard announce that she had a visitor. Natalie stood, hopeful that Nick had found something that would help. "Nick?" "Sorry Dr. Lambert, It's just me, your friendly neighborhood public defender. How do you do?" "I've been better. So, what do you think of my case, Miss...?" "Polemenakos. But its a mouthful, so just call me Elaine, all right?" "Fine. You can call me Natalie, or Nat." "Good. Now that we've dispensed with the pleasantries, let's get down to business. Tell me what you know." Natalie related everything she knew about the evidence against her. Elaine listened quietly, letting her finish the whole story. When Nat was finished, she looked at the notes she had taken. "OK. Let me just clarify some things here. You've never been to Darkangel's boutique?" "No. I do have a teddy from there, but it was a birthday present, and I got it over a year ago." "Do you have an alibi for the time of death." "Just my cat, Sidney. I was home, asleep." "Well, I don't think Sidney can testify, so we'll need to look for people who may have seen you going home. Also we'll look into the purchase at Darkangel's." "Who is we?" "Even though I work for the Public Defenders office, I like having a private investigator look into things. Sometimes the police are to busy trying to make a case, they forget to look for exculpatory evidence, as well as incriminating evidence." "I don't think that will be the case this time." "Yes, I've heard about your friendship with Detective Knight. Personally, I'm surprised they haven't reassigned the case. Even he can use help, and Sharon is the best there is. She'll probably be in to see you soon, to ask you some questions. Be as honest and as detailed as you can with her. She has this uncanny ability to turn seemingly meaningless details into solid clues." "I'll remember that. Elaine, if you don't mind my asking, how many of these cases have you won?" "I don't mind, but you might not like the answer. This is my first murder case. I was surprised they assigned me to such a high-profile one, but Sheppard insisted that I would be the defense that you deserved." "I'm afraid given Sheppard's opinion of me, she didn't mean it as a compliment. We've had some unpleasant encounters." "I know. Don't worry. Everyone in the office was kicking themselves that they didn't smack her first. I wish I could have seen it." "Can you win this?" Natalie asked earnestly. "I have a lot of faith in this system. I don't think the innocent are ever found guilty, regardless of who their attorneys are. And you are definitely innocent. But yes, I believe I can." "Good. Now I do too." "Glad to hear it. Oh, by the way. I got a message for the de Brabant foundation saying that they would cover any expenses for your defense. Do you know what that's all about? Bless you Nick, Natalie thought. "No, I don't think so. Must just be a organization set up to provide for good defense." "I guess so. Don't worry Natalie. I think I know what I'm doing." With a conspiratorial wink, she was gone. Where have I heard that before, thought Natalie. ************************************************************* Random Acts (8) by Diane Echelbarger LaCroix picked up the small, brown paper parcel. Someone had left it at the door to his apartment. It had no postage, delivery label, or other identification on it. Just "LaCroix" block-printed across it in black felt pen. He ripped it open. Six CD cases had been taped into a solid block. He tilted them on end and read the titles. "Greatest Hits of 1720" by the Philharmonica Virtuosi of New York; "Hayden Cello Concertos in C major and D major" by Yo-Yo Ma; "Music for Harp--Middle Ages to 20th Century"; "Ancient Echoes" by Chorovaya Akademia; "On The Banks of Helicon--Early Music of Scotland" by The Baltimore Consort; "Dance Music of the High Renaissance". Intriguing. The corner of a small white envelope could be seen between two of the cases. LaCroix pulled it free. It was unsealed, and he slipped the card out. A fragment of musical notation adorned the front. He looked inside. It was blank. He frowned suspiciously at the silvery discs. After all, there *was* a war on. LaCroix entered his apartment and turned on his stereo. Inserting the first disc, he used the 'random sampling' feature on his remote to check its contents. When he was convinced it was labeled accurately, he inserted the next, and the next, until he had checked them all. They were exactly what they appeared. No polkas, no--he shuddered-- *Barney*. He returned the last disc to its case, frowning thoughtfully. ************************************************************* The Committee by Dirk Giles The room was dark. Nothing could be seen to human eyes, for no human eyes were present. To the individuals that were there only ghostly outlines could be seen, partly due to the dark and partly due to the thick smoke the filled the room like fog. One of the forms moved slightly and a small glow appeared as a lighter applied flame to the end of a cigarette in a thin holder. "I am worried; attention has now shifted away from *her*", a female voice said, the last word being spat out like a bad piece of souvlaki. "And *he* won't be held for long, as none of the evidence will implicate him". Another voice, this one male, joined in. "Their minions have been too quick to shift attention away. And Brabant has not been implicated at all." "Perhaps it is time to intensify our efforts," a third voice spoke, this one also female. "See to it!" The shadowy forms melted away. ************************************************************* Flatfoots (1) by Sharon Himmanen and Jennie Hayes "All right," Sharon said, coming into the office. "We've got a job." Jennie looked up from the romance novel she was reading. "A job?" "A job. You remember those. They pay the bills, that sort of thing." "Cool!" Jennie said. "What kind of job." "Working for my friend, the DA." "Elaine?" "Elaine." "Cool, a city contract!" "Yep. It seems as though the county coroner got herself arrested for killing a police captain." "You know," Jennie said, staring off into space for a second, "during my brief stint in medical school I knew someone who's a coroner up here. Natalie Lambert." Sharon raised her eyebrows and grinned at her partner. "Well, I won't judge you buy the company you keep," she said. "No way!" Jennie said emphatically. "Way!" Sharon replied with a small shake of her head. * * * * * "Now remember," Sharon said, stepping out of the car, "it's *your* week to be the associate. You're job is to make me look good." Jennie stopped dead in her tracks behind Sharon. "Wait a minute!" she protested. "*I* was the associate last week! It's your turn to play the associate." "And it's your turn to play bad cop,' too," Sharon added, continuing on as if she hadn't heard Jennie. "Again? I *always* have to play bad cop," Jennie continued. Sharon paused just in front of the shop and turned toward her partner. "*I* played bad cop last time, remember?" "No," Jennie corrected. "I did. You insisted on playing good cop then because the guy was really cute. It's *your* turn to play bad cop." "Too late," Sharon said. "I'm in that mindset right now. Just follow my lead." And with that she pushed open the door to Darkangel's Boutique, the jangle of the bell drowning out the sounds of Jennie's protestations. Inside, she paused only slightly, trying not to stare at the amazing collection of paraphernalia. She heard Jennie gasp slightly as she entered the store behind her. At just that moment, the young woman from behind the counter looked up from the book she was reading. "May I help you," Heather asked. Sharon turned and glanced at Jennie briefly. Jennie made a quick face at Sharon, then pushed past her, a congenial smile on her face. "Hello," she began, approaching the counter. Sharon glared at her from behind, but Jennie continued, holding out her hand and shaking Heather's hand warmly and handing her one of their cards.. "I'm Jennie Hayes and this is my associate, Sharon Himmanen," she said, ignoring the squawk of protest from behind her. "You're detectives?" Heather asked reading the card. "For who?" "Have you ever seen this woman?" Sharon asked instead, slipping forward and holding up a picture of Natalie. Her voice took on an edge of irritation. She figured that if she was going to get stuck playing bad cop she might as well enjoy it. Heather frowned at the picture. "Yeah..." she said hesitantly "Yeah?" Sharon asked. She held the picture up closer to Heather "Take a closer look. Be absolutely sure." "Take your time," Jennie said soothingly. "But not all day," Sharon added with a sharp smile. "When was she here?" "Ah, two days ago. I think?" Heather said, closing her eyes and rubbing her forehead. "You think," Sharon said sarcastically. "Come on! You can do better than that. You identified this woman at the police station just the other day! How hard can it be to tell us what you told them just a little while ago?" "This isn't going to get us anywhere," Jennie broke in, placing her hand on Heather's shoulder "Lets try this from the beginning. You're sure you recognize this woman?" This time Heather nodded emphatically, then winced sharply. "Do you have a headache? You want to take a minute to take something for it?" Jennie asked. "Where did you see this woman?" Sharon asked. Heather thought for a moment "It was... I think I saw her here." "You *think* again," Sharon snapped. "Either you saw her or-- ow!" She broke off suddenly when Jennie smacked her hard on the arm. "What'd you do that for?" Jennie didn't answer, but gestured toward Heather who had wandered slowly into the center of the room. She rubbed her temple hard. Sharon looked over at Jennie and raised her eyebrows in question. Jennie shrugged. "It's... So hard to remember exactly," Heather said. "I *know* I saw her at the police station, and I *think* I saw her before that, here, but..." "But what?" Jennie asked. "But... There was a man, dark-haired. He--" And before Heather could continue, the color drained from her face, and she slumped forward limply into Jennie's arms. The two woman stood mute for a few minutes staring down at the unconscious sales clerk before looking up wide-eyed at each other. "Now look what you did!" each accused the other simultaneously. * * * * * They'd turned the "closed" sign around in the window and dragged Heather's unconscious form by her ankles into the office in the back of the store. "Now, what do you suppose this is?" Sharon asked distractedly, holding up a large red leather harness. Several sets of chains clinked loudly. When Jennie cleared her throat pointedly, she added, "Think we should call an ambulance?" "Might not be a bad idea," Jennie said, lifting Heather's wrist and watching as it dropped like dead weight back onto the floor. "She's out cold." Sharon picked up the phone just as Heather stirred and opened her eyes. She moaned softly, then winced, sitting up slowly. Jennie helped her. "Are you all right?" "I'm not sure," Heather said, and Sharon rolled her eyes. "Not sure," she said under her breath. "Shush!" Jennie said, supporting Heather's shoulders. "I remember *everything*," Heather said suddenly, struggling to stand. "Everything." "Good," Sharon said, reaching down to help her up. "What do you remember?" "I *only* saw the woman in the picture at the police station," she said. "There was another woman... And a man, tall, dark, with sad eyes, kinda cute." "The woman, what did she look like?" "Medium height, short hair, green trench coat." "Why did you say that Doctor Lambert bought the teddy and choker?" Jennie asked. "Because..." Heather's voice trailed off and she shook her head. "Because the dark haired man told me to." "He told you to," Sharon said disbelievingly. "If he'd told you to jump off a bridge you'd have done that too?" Heather nodded slowly. "I know it sounds crazy, and it's more than a little frightening," she said, rubbing her arms as if she felt a sudden chill, "but yeah, if he'd told me to jump off a bridge, I think I would have. I wanted to... No, *had* to obey him. Then he told me not to remember." Sharon and Jennie exchanged looks. "And there was another man, too!" Heather exclaimed. "He was tall, short hair, very pale. He... Ordered me to remember." "So you told him everything?" "Yeah. I *had* to. Then he made me forget everything except that that woman bought the lingerie and the choker, the one in the picture." "Doctor Lambert?" "Yeah, her." Heather shook her head slowly. "What's going on?" "That's what we intend to find out," Sharon said, slipping the picture of Natalie back into the pocket of her trench coat. "But I think you'd better go down to the police station and tell them all this. You can give them a better description of both of the men, and the woman," Sharon said. * * * * * Outside, Sharon turned to Jennie in confusion. "What in the hell is going on?" "You're asking me? I'm still trying to figure out what in the hell kind of case you've got us working on." "You think she's telling the truth?" "Well, I'm not an expert, but that faint was definitely real," Jennie said. "Maybe they used drugs or hypnosis or something on her." Sighing deeply, Sharon headed for the car. "Since I'm the associate I suppose I should ask where we're going now, boss." Sharon said sarcastically. Jennie grinned over at her. "Well, since you asked," she said, "we're going to go garbage collecting." She pulled open the door of the car. "Oh no!" Sharon said, stopping dead in her tracks. "No way! I am not crawling around in filthy dumpsters again! These are brand new shoes." "They are not!" Jennie said, glancing down at Sharon's scuffed army boots. "Besides, didn't you say to our last client that one of the best means of gathering information is by going through what other people throw out?" "That was for the benefit of the client!" Sharon said. "I didn't intend for you to take it to heart! What, do you think we're real detectives or something? My idea was to collect retainers with a minimum of work." She pulled out into traffic. "Head toward Natalie's," Jennie said. Sharon groaned, making a face, but dutifully turned the car in the direction Jennie requested. "I'm only doing this because she's your friend," she cautioned. "Trust me. I know what I'm doing," Jennie said. "You *think* you know what you're doing," Sharon corrected. ************************************************************* Flatfoots (2) by Sharon Himmanen and Jennie Hayes Note: Some of the content in this might be a little gross... *********************************** "Geez, what's that smell?" Sharon asked, making a face. "Now, what exactly are you expecting to find here?" Jennie shrugged. "How should I know? Where'd you get the tidbit about going through garbage anyway?" Sharon looked over at Jennie. "Ever see Sneakers'?" Jennie glared at her. "You know, Natalie's life is at stake here! You could take this a little more seriously." "I'm attending as diligently to this case as I do all our others," Sharon said defensively. "That's my point." "OK, you're so smart, *you* tell *me* what we're going to do, Miss Nancy Drew!" "All right," Jennie said belligerently, turning and walking into the alley. "I will." She stood for several moments looking around. "Well?" Sharon asked sarcastically, standing behind her with her arms folded across her chest. "Well..." Jennie began again, then spotted the dumpster about halfway into the alley. "I want you to go through that dumpster there." "Uh-uh! No way! If you want that dumpster searched, you go right ahead and search it. I'll wait here." The two women glared at each other for a few moments, before Jennie decided to try another tact. "Tell you what," she said, stepping over to a small packing barrel. "I'll arm- wrestle you for it." "You'll what?" Sharon said, nearly laughing. "I'll arm-wrestle you!" Jennie insisted. "It's your favorite method of arbitration. You've used it to settle our last four arguments." "It's how I *won* the last four arguments," Sharon said, her eyes narrowing as she regarded Jennie suspiciously. She hesitated, but only for a moment, before shrugging and stepping up to the barrel. * * * * * "All I want to know," Sharon said as she prepared to climb into the dumpster, "is just what you've been eating." "Not eating," Jennie said. "Remember that last client? The weight trainer?" Sharon stopped and turned to stare down at Jennie in disbelief. "You didn't! He wouldn't even give me the time of day!" Jennie just grinned maliciously back up at her. "I knew I'd only get to use this trick once so I decided to make it count. Get in that dumpster!" With a shake of her head and a small sigh Sharon swung her leg over the edge of the dumpster and began gingerly shifting through some of the debris. "Have we decided what I should be looking for?" Sharon asked. "I dunno, anything that looks suspicious." "Jennie, this is *garbage.* It all looks suspicious." "Well, then, anything that looks more suspicious than usual." "More suspicious than usual," Sharon muttered under her breath. "So what are you going to do while I'm in here?" "Watch and enjoy," Jennie said matter-of-factly. Protesting all the while, Sharon managed to make a more-or- less thorough search of the dumpster, only to find nothing. Jennie watched as Sharon struggled to climb out of the dumpster, but she kept slipping. "You know," Sharon said, finally, "You *could* use all those new muscles to give me a hand out of here!" Still laughing hysterically, Jennie rose and walked over. She climbed up onto the box Sharon had used as a step stool and thrust her hand forward. Sharon grasped it tightly, and before Jennie could move, used her other hand to grab Jennie's shoulder, yanking her roughly into the dumpster so that she landed face down into the garbage. By the time she had regained her feet, Sharon was standing out on the street, laughing. "Oh, I'm *so* sorry," she said insincerely. "I'll get you for that!" Jennie said, red-faced with anger. "I just figured if I was going to stink to high heaven it'd be easier on you if you joined me." By this time, Jennie had managed to haul herself out of the dumpster and was busy picking bits of debris off her coat. "So the dumpster was a bust," Sharon said, looking past her at a rather large stack of boxes. "Since you seem to be the diligent one, did it ever occur to you to check these boxes?" Jennie ignored her, continuing to brush off her coat. Sharon sighed, glancing at her watch. "Well, we've worked for four hours straight and I'm exhausted. I'm heading for the nearest bar." As she moved past Jennie, Jennie casually stuck her foot out and caught Sharon's ankle. Stumbling forward, Sharon held out her hands to stop her fall and leaned heavily against the stack of boxes. She felt them shift sharply beneath her hands and took a step back, nearly backpedaling into Jennie as she did so. Too late, they both scrambled out of the way as the boxes began to rain down on top of them, but something large and dark and very smelly caught Sharon on the shoulder and she fell, taking Jennie down with her. Still a little stunned and out of breath from Sharon's weight on top of her, Jennie was aware first that Sharon was emitting a hoarse, horrified yell. The second thing she was aware of was Sharon frantically struggling to get out from beneath whatever was weighing it down. Jennie shifted slightly, then twisted her body around to see what was causing Sharon so much distress. When she saw what it was, the alleyway was filled with the sounds of two women and their horrified screaming, until Sharon managed to shove the mass off her legs and scrambled to her feet, gagging as she ran from the alley as fast as she could. Jennie wasn't far behind her. Out on the street, Jennie stood gasping for breath, watching as Sharon frantically ripped her overcoat off, balled it up and threw it down onto the sidewalk. She shuddered elaborately. "What was it?" Jennie asked loudly. "Was that what I think it was? What was it?" Sharon leaned forward, her hands resting on her legs, breathing heavily. "Go back in there and find out who it is," she said. Emphatically shaking her head, Jennie said, "That was a dead body, wasn't it?" "We gotta call the police," Sharon said. "Go call the police. But first, go back in there and find out who it is." "You go back in there! That's a dead body! You never said we'd have to deal with a dead body! That's a dead body in there!" Looking up through her tangled hair, Sharon glared at Jennie. "Now I know why you got kicked out of medical school," she said sarcastically. She straightened, taking a deep breath. "We'll go in together, all right?" Jennie was shaking her head slowly. "I don't do dead bodies! That's in my contract. I put that in my contract, didn't I? That's a dead body in there, isn't it?" Shaking her head, Sharon grabbed Jennie roughly by the arm and dragged her into the alley. Forced to deal with this, Jennie drew a deep breath and attempted to pull herself together. Tentatively, they crept toward the dark mass lying on the pavement surrounded by boxes. "It's a woman," Jennie observed, turning her head away and wrinkling her nose. "She's got something in her hand," Sharon added. "Looks like a... Pin or broach of some kind." She straightened. "OK, I've had enough," she said moving rapidly out of the alley. "Time to call the police." * * * * * "We stink," Jennie said dejectedly as they returned to their car. They'd spent the last two hours with the police making statements and answering questions and had only now just been allowed to leave. "Do you mean that literally or figuratively?" Sharon asked. "Both, I think." "Come on," Sharon said. "We did a good days work for a change." "We only put in six hours. How much money is that?" She sighed heavily and stared out the window. "Well," Sharon said, turning the car into traffic again, "the way I figure it, given everything we've been through today, traumatic to say the least, we really worked the equivalent of 18 hours, don't you think? I mean, how often does a dead body fall on top of you?" "How can you be so cheerful?" Sharon grinned. "Trust me, I know what I'm doing." "You *think* you know what you're doing!" "Yeah, well this little episode is gonna look *great* on our resume. We just solved a missing person case for the police by finding their missing officer. *And*, though I might be wrong about this, Detective Schanke seemed awfully interested in that sword pin that she had clutched in her hand. I heard him say that he thought this would clear Nat once and for all. We did good work today, and I think we should celebrate. Look, there's a club there. Let's go in. I'll let you buy me a drink." "The Raven," Jennie read the sign aloud. "I don't know," she said hesitantly. "It looks like a bit of a dive from out here." "Oh, it'll be fun," Sharon said. "We'll duck home real quick, shower, change, then head back here. I'll pick you up in an hour and we'll come back here." ************************************************************* Passing Glimpse by Jennie Hayes Jennie sank deeper into her seat in the theatre. She could almost feel LaCroix's icy stare, which she expected to descend at any time. He was *certain* to find out about who took over directing this mayhem. Valerie was already in hot water with him, but *Jennie* had managed to escape his notice... Until now. She had a feeling she wouldn't be able to feel safe after tonight. She just hoped her infamous NatPacker 'lack of self-preservation skills' tendency didn't kick in full force when he noticed, or she'd tell him off before she knew what she was saying. It had certainly happened before, with other maniacs. She turned her attention back to the screen. The episode was just showing the bit with herself and Sharon fighting in the dumpster. Sharon, who sat in front of her and Amy, turned around, "Amy you were so *good* there," she praised, "you were such a believable dead weight, I still don't know how you managed to keep from moving!" "Oh, I think that was the take where she fell asleep. You remember, we couldn't wake her up at first so we just filmed it with her asleep? Best move we made there. She really does sleep like the dead." Jennie grinned. "Oh, yeah, you're right!" Sharon laughed. "You guys are always picking on me!" Amy tried to pout believably, but wound up laughing instead. "Oh my goodness, look!" Jennie pointed at the screen suddenly and almost stood up. "There's Betsy's car!" She turned to Perri, who was on the other side of her from Amy, "Betsy was lost in Toronto for *days*, looking for either the filming or the way back to Don's place, where we stayed!" she explained through giggles, "by the time we actually found her again she'd passed by quite a few of the scenes we were filming without finding us. She was just plain confused when we pried her out of that car!" "Yes, I think she was in it for most of the time she was missing," Valerie put in from Amy's other side, "she was sore for days. I'm just glad she was OK when we found her!" They all fell silent again as the scene shifted. Jennie scooted back down in her seat, mentally cursing herself for practically making a spectacle of herself *again.* There really was little point in trying to hide, she wasn't any good at it. ************************************************************* Surprise Answer! by Sharon Himmanen, Jennie Hayes, and Amy Hull (Uniformed guard played by Amparo Bertram. Redheaded woman played by Valerie Meachum.) Natalie paced back and forth in the holding cell, compulsively wiping her fingers with the wad of paper towels she had clutched in her hands. What ink she'd managed to get off her fingers was now spread across the towels and she had succeeded in doing little more than smearing it around on her hands and clothes. Why did they have to use so much, she thought absently to herself, willing herself not think about the humiliation of the booking process. Eleven paces and she faced the cinder block wall. A sharp turn on her heel, eleven more steps and her nose touched the bars. Each time that happened, she'd glance up, taking in the woman in the uniform who stood guard and the steps (Amparo, wasn't that her name?), hoping to hear footsteps, to see Nick and Schanke coming down to let her out and tell her this was all some terrible mistake. But it wasn't a mistake, was it? Someone was doing this deliberately, setting her up for Stonetree's murder so neatly. Natalie's steps slowed as she mentally reviewed the evidence they had on her so far. The cat hair on the choker. It had matched Sydney's all right. Whoever it was probably picked that up when they planted the receipt, the semi- destroyed love letters and Stonetree's hat in her apartment. And there was that woman from the boutique who had identified her as the one who had bought the lingerie. Natalie stopped her pacing abruptly and stood quietly in the center of the cell for a moment. She thought she'd heard someone coming down the steps, but after a few seconds, when she saw no one, she turned slowly and sat down on the bunk. With a sigh she leaned back and closed her eyes. She'd gone over the evidence in her head at least a dozen times. And each time, she came up empty. Now she was forced to wait here doing nothing while Nick and Schanke tried to clear her. If he could clear her, she thought. She needed to work right now. Not being able to do anything was driving her crazy. Sometimes work was the only thing that helped, even when it was painful or difficult, like the autopsy she'd had to do on Stonetree earlier. She allowed herself to relax a little, grateful for the slight lessening that brought to the knot in her stomach and let her mind wander back over the details of the autopsy she'd performed earlier . . . * * * * * [Segue into Bruce Gray's post, "Surprise, Surprise, Surprise."] * * * * * ....The man swiveled around, and Nat got the shock of her life. "CAPTAIN STONETREE?!?!?" exclaimed Nat. * * * * * With a start, Natalie jerked awake and looked wildly around the cell, breathing rapidly. The uniformed guard had shifted slightly as she'd let out a small strangled sound and sat up quickly. "It was a dream," Natalie mumbled. "Just a dream." As she stood and resumed her pacing, Natalie thought about how wonderful it would have been if it had been true, or that she could have stayed a bit longer in the dream. Anything was better than this nightmare, she thought, turning on her heel and taking eleven steps back toward the wall. She was halfway back toward the bars when she heard several people coming down the stairs so she quickened her pace, praying that it was Nick. Her hopes were dashed, however, when she saw several uniformed officers escorting a tall, thin red-headed woman toward the cell. ************************************************************* Surprise, Surprise, Surprise by L. Bruce Gray "Just one more to do tonight," Nat thought as she moved over to the last sheet-draped figure in the County Coroner's examination room. But, it would be one of the hardest ones that she had done in a long time. Under the covers were the mortal remains of Captain Stonetree. She took a deep breath before carrying the tray with the necessary instruments she would need over to the lab table nearest the body. She took another deep breath when she got there, uncovered the body, and began to work. * * * * * About an hour later, she pulled the sheet back up over the head of the cadaver. The examination had not revealed any new facts that she didn't already suspect, but it had still had to be done, regardless. She took the evidence and the identifying information over to the office computer to enter the data that she had compiled. She began by bringing up the screen with Stonetree's records on it and then began to file the report. Several minutes later, she was done. She pressed the button that would send the autopsy information into the main computer's memory and then got up from the computer desk. She walked over to the small coffee pot near the sink, washed up, and poured herself a large cup. Suddenly, the computer began to beep. Nat took her coffee back over to the desk and sat it down on some nearby paperwork. The screen was flashing: <> Nat pressed the button to retrieve the faulty file. She wondered which one of the few she had done tonight was wrong. She was surprised at the result. "Captain Stonetree?" Nat said, half aloud. "What could possibly be wrong with that?" She took a long sip of her coffee and began to reenter the data on Captain Stonetree into the data base. She checked the information she entered against the clipboard she carried to make sure there were no errors between each entry. "Computers!" said Nat. "Probably just missed a period or comma or something." A few minutes later and she was done. She pressed the transmit button again, and waited while drinking the rest of her coffee. A few minutes later, the computer began beeping again. <> "What could be wrong now?" she thought. She looked at the file again and checked the information she had entered against the clipboard's info again. She even checked the evidence file and identifying marks files for inaccuracies. As soon as she knew that she had not made a mistake, she grabbed a copy of the printout and headed for the door. * * * * * A few minutes later, she walked into the precinct and went over to Captain Cohen's office. She stopped at the receptionist's desk. "Is anyone in there?" Nat said. "Not that I know of, but I stepped out for a short break a few minutes ago." the receptionist replied. Nat walked over to the Captain's door and knocked. "Come in." said Cohen. Nat opened the door and went inside. "Close the door." said Cohen. Nat closed the door and then noticed someone sitting in the chair next to the desk. "I didn't know you were busy. I'll come back." said Nat, and she began to turn around and head back for the door. "No, wait." said Cohen. "You, at least, are going to have to see this." She pointed towards the man in the chair. The man swiveled around, and Nat got the shock of her life. "CAPTAIN STONETREE?!?!?" exclaimed Nat. ************************************************************* Credit Where Credit Is Due by Tara LJC O'Shea Nat looked up at the sound of feet, and smiled as Nick appeared on the other side of the bars. "Hey stranger," she got up off the bed, running a hand through her hair, pointlessly really, it did what it wanted. But it was habit. "I talked to Grace, and I think we have a lead on that credit card receipt. They checked your balance, and the charge is there--" "I've never been in that place in my life." "I know, I know, so I had a handwriting analysis done." "Yeah?" "It's yours." "Great. This is just great. So now what?" "Did you sign anything unusual yesterday? See anyone who didn't belong there?" "I was so preoccupied... I mean, with Captain Stonetree... Maybe." "Think, Nat. This is important." "I think that reminder is a little unnecessary, don't you think?" She ran her hand across the bars, and Nick flinched. "I'm sorry, this wouldn't be happening..." "Oh, don't start with the guilt thing, okay? Let me concentrate." She closed her eyes, trying to remember the hectic afternoon Stonetree's body was brought in. "There was an intern with some forms, I don't know..." She shook her head. "It was just forms." "This intern, did she look familiar?" "I don't think so. Blue eyes, auburn hair, kinda plain. Lab coat, you know, I don't think I knew her. I didn't blink, I guess." "Did she have a name." "Danielle something, I think. Like two first names. Kaye. Danielle Kaye." Nick chewed on this bit of information for a moment, and then stopped in his tracks as he realized exactly what he'd just heard. "Dani Kaye. Of course." "What...? The actor?" "No, the girl. My blender!" "Nick, should I be understanding this?" "She's one of Janette's. *Janette* planted the receipt." He squeezed her hand through the bars, and gave her a peck on the forehead, and then headed for the door. "Nick!" Nat called after him, but he was gone. * * * Janette held her head high as she entered her club, still furious at the games she had been forced to play at the station. The line-up had been the final straw, she hadn't really cared before who was framing her, or why. She just knew they wouldn't succeed, and even if they did, she certainly wasn't going to bother with mortal's abstract concepts of law, she would simply leave. She would leave. Leave Nichola. Leave her club. Of course she would, wouldn't she? She slammed the door of her office, and was not at all surprised to find Tara asleep on her couch. She stared at her until she awakened. "This is not a flop house." Janette frowned. "Not unless you have fangs, eh? Well, as I'm sure you noticed, I had booked an hotel room. However, seeing as how I've spent perhaps all of three hours there, on account of I am constantly being summoned here, I figured I'd just cut out a step. How'd it go?" "Go?" "I thought you'd be happy to know that the police received an anonymous tip that who they were looking for was right under their nose. I imagine by now the dear Doctor is watching her flat be searched." Tara briefly explained her actions that night, and with each incident, Janette let more of the anger drain out of her, to be replaced by a sly smile and glimmer of delight in her blue eyes. Purposefully, she removed the returned choker from her jewelry box, and put it on. "Just to be sure no one tries to take it again." "Now, we must find out who took it in the first place, and tried to frame you. It was a flimsy frame, to be sure. Makes me wonder just how serious the culprit might have been." "Or how intelligent." "Precisely." At that moment, a furious Nick Knight yanked open the door, eyes flashing angry red. "What have you done?" He grasped Janette's shoulders. "What, to your mortal pet? Nothing that hadn't already been done to me," she hissed, breaking free of his hold. Tara cleared her throat, and Nick noticed her for the first time. "Credit where credit is due, dear." "Nichola, have you met my... Associate?" The blue eyes must have been contact lenses, he noted, as her eyes were brown behind her glasses. He remembered her with black hair, as well. Quite the chameleon, no wonder Nat hadn't recognized her. "Miss Dani Kaye, I presume?" At that, Janette raised a brow, a bemused smile crossing her face. Tara's eyes danced. "Yes. I needed a diversion, Nat was there, I took advantage," Tara replied, completely unconcerned at how ruthless it could sound. But it was the truth, an unkind truth perhaps, but the truth. "They arrested her," Nick growled. "She has no motive, they'll let her go, and it bought us time." Tara shrugged off his anxiousness, and was shocked as he took a step towards her, eyes flashing. "No motive? Then kindly explain to me the letters you burned in her grate? The letters that to all appearances connect her to Joe Stonetree in some kind of illicit love affair? The hat?" Nick grasped Tara's forearms, and the threat was there, even muted. The threat of violence if any harm came to his precious doctor. "What the hell are you talking about? I planted a cat hair, and a credit card receipt, and made a phone call. That was it. *Let me go*." The last three words were filled with such rancor that Nick automatically opened his hands. Tara stepped out of his shadow, thought better of what her anger would like her to say, and instead left, her hands balled into fists. Nick watched her go, and sighed. "If she didn't plant them, that means someone else did," Nick's anger began to drain away as his thoughts moved with vampiric speed, putting the pieces together. "Most likely the same person who tried to frame you, except he, or she, has done a far better job of it with Nat." "LaCroix," Janette said softly. "LaCroix. And he's far too clever to make this easy for us. I can't begin to guess at his game, but I will not allow me and mine to be pawns, and that is exactly what we all are in this game." Nick began to pace. "If I will play this game, I will not play it as a pawn," Janette laid a hand on Nick's shoulder. "What I do to keep this club, my club, is necessary. I will not let it be used, let myself be used, as a weapon in you and our sire's fights, so do not be surprised at anything I do, cherie." "If it is LaCroix--" Nick began, and Janette laughed derisively. "If." "Then I will deal with him." "I've seen you 'deal' with him before, cherie, and we both know how well that turned out. I have no great love for our sire at present, and neither do many of my Ravens, don't be a fool and throw away potential allies." "I'll keep that in mind." Nick reached out to caress Janette's cheek. "I'm sorry you had to be involved in this, cherie." "Hmmm. You are sorry. This is something new?" He caressed her jaw, his lips brushing her neck, and he drew back, noticing the choker for the first time. "Fashion or not, it suits you." He smiled, and kissed her lightly. "Go, go talk to your Captain Cross," she waved him away. "And Nichola?" "Yes?" "I'd apologize to her if I were you. She has a long memory, for a mortal. And she has proved herself quite invaluable to me, I would hate to lose her. After all, she was only trying to protect me." * * * "Miki, am I deluded?" Tara stirred her gin and tonic, and then licked the plastic swizzle stick before laying it on the cocktail napkin and raising the glass to her lips. "How so, deluded?" Like a good bartender, Miklos continued to set the clean glasses away, waiting for her to spill out her story at her own speed. "In my more self-obsessed moments, I feel under-appreciated. It's just that sometimes, I wonder why I bother at all. He makes me so angry." "He?" "The *detective*" if the noun could be made a curse, it just had. "Honestly, I can understand what she sees in him, but sometimes, that doesn't make it any easier." "Do you really want things to be easy?" "I suppose not. I wouldn't know what to do with myself if things were easy. I suppose I thrive on challenges." She set the empty glass down, watching the ice cubes shift, enjoying the sound they made. She fumbled for a cigarette, and Miklos produced a silver lighter. She drew the smoke into her lungs, and then let it go slowly, sighing. "I think that I just need some sleep. Or at the very least, a hot shower and a good meal." "That I think we can provide," Janette came up behind her, setting her hands on the girl's shoulders. "Go upstairs, relax, gather your thoughts. You are no good to anyone so tense." "Yes ma'am," Tara was surprised, but grateful. Such... Care for a mortal was almost atypical, though it could be said Janette was simply protecting her assets. Stubbing out the cigarette in the ashtray, she slipped off the stool and headed towards the stairs. "Wait!" Nick called out as she started up the stairs, and Tara turned, unable to keep her hands from tightening on the railing. "Please," he said, and her shoulders loosened just a little. "Can I help you, Detective?" "What I said in the office... What I did, it was wrong. I was acting without knowing all the facts, and I took out my frustration on you." "I never do anything, Detective, unless it can be fixed." Tara shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and gripped the railing tighter. "I never meant Nat harm, she truly was just a diversion." "I know, and I wanted to... Frankly, to thank you for doing what you did for Janette, it was really very clever." "Careful, you're getting patronizing, that doesn't bode well in an apology." Tara smiled slyly as she shook her finger, a good bit of her anger draining away. "Um... I don't even know your real name," Nick looked a little sheepish, and Tara couldn't help but laugh. "It's not Dani Kaye." "No, it's not. Goodness, I've had so many names over the years. You can call me LJC if you like, most people around here do. You can call me Tara, or you can even call me Johanna Shea, it's one of them as well." Nick raised an eyebrow. "Any relation...?" "That's for me to know, Detective. Good-night." Smiling, she continued up the stairs, leaving the bemused vampire shaking his head as he disappeared back out into the night, with his job cut out for him. ************************************************************* Time Out by Tara LJC O'Shea "Oh my." LJC knew Janette had exquisite taste, but she had never seen her apartments before, and she was almost afraid to breathe, lest she break something. For one, the soundproofing was excellent, the second the door clicked shut it was like being the only person left in the world. She could see the street below from the wall of picture windows, but it was silent, no cars backfiring, no horns, no screeching of tires. Just the lights. The kitchen to the left of the door was small, very modern, and virtually empty, for obvious reasons. Long white tapers in simply crystal candle holders were the only thing adorning the dining room table, two high-backed velvet chairs waiting for diners. She got a glass of water, resisted the urge to peek in the fridge, and moved into the living room. The hardwood floors were covered with Oriental rugs, she could feel her feet sinking just a little with each step. The walls were cream, and the ceilings high, giving the rooms an airy feel, but not cold. The carpets, the wall hangings, everything was coordinated in rich reds, greens, and golds. The couch was forest green leather, oversized, with black throw pillows at the corners. Tara sank down onto it, giggling. Somehow, what with the chains in the club below, she had never been able to picture such normal decor, and yet it made perfect sense. Tall art deco lamps lit the corners, chasing away the shadows, and there wasn't a speck of dusk anywhere. A giant television dominated one wall, an entire entertainment system really, and she noticed small speakers set into the corners of the room, and shook her head. Apparently Nick wasn't the only one with a fondness for gadgets and technological wonders, though there wasn't a remote control to be seen. Close investigation of the end table revealed a panel controlling the blinds, music, lights, and television. Similar panels must be set in inconspicuous places all about the flat, she realized, and whistled softly. Clever. Blinds were on a timer, no less. Running a hand through her short hair, she decided a bath was in order. Reluctantly leaving the couch, she peeked down a hall, and saw it led up a few steps to a bedroom. Again, burgundy, black, green, gold and cream were mixed to create a rich, warm environment, but this time she noted there were no windows. The floor was covered in thick cream wall to wall carpet, muffling her footsteps. The walls were dark green, matching the satin sheets beneath the burgundy counterpane. What really got her though was the ceiling, which was cranberry, just a shade lighter than the counterpane. Tall, graceful art deco lamps like those in the living room lit the room, casting dark shadows. One entire wall was taken up by sliding doors, leading to a closet twice as large as Tara's college dorm room. She was impressed. The bathroom was two small connected rooms, the first containing a vanity with a wide assortment of perfumes and cosmetics, the second a dark blue tiled bathroom with gold fixtures (she'd bet her writing hand it was real gold too) and a tub that looked deep enough to swim in. The connecting door to the closet was ajar, giving Tara a glimpse of silks, crepe, and velvet. She was sorely tempted, but poking through Janette's closets was just a little too much, even for her. Leaving her clothes in a small black pile on the counter, she started running the bath, yawning. She could get used to this. All the more reason to hurry and take a nap, before she was tempted to spend the rest of her stay here. * * * Wrapped in a fluffy dark blue robe, her auburn hair hanging in damp tendrils against her cheeks and neck, Tara hung up her clothes, and thought about curling up on the couch for a few hours. She surely wasn't going to sleep in the bed, it was just a little too spooky. As she stepped into the living room, she heard dishes clinking, and steeling herself for the worst, she peeked around to see Miklos setting a plate of broiled white fish and new potatoes in butter and dill on the dining room table, steam rising from the hot food, the glass of ice water no doubt his way of saying she'd consumed more than enough spirits so far that night. "Don't tell me you cook, too. If you weren't undead, my mother would be telling me not to let you escape." Tara leaned against the door frame, tucking her hair behind her ears. "Alas, no. You'd be amazed who delivers for the right price, though." "At," Tara glanced at her watch, "1 am no less." She sat down, and started in on the fish. She looked up at the Hungarian vampire, who stood watching her. "Join me?" She gestured to the empty chair. "For a drink, perhaps." He fetched a glass from the kitchen, and she could hear him rooting around in the fridge. She sipped the water, wondering what had gotten into her. She wasn't the flirting type. Yeah, right... She was a little lonely, though. Even with all her friends around her, she had isolated herself, it was her own fault, and she would have to fix that come morning... Er, evening. Miklos returned with the house specialty, and she regarded him curiously. "What do you think about all this?" "Me? I honestly don't know." "But you'd protect her with your life, wouldn't you." "Yes. And you?" "Something like that. I don't think you lot are worth my life, sometimes. But I guess I'll never know, at least, I sure as hell hope not." She washed a bite of potato down with the icy water, and a shiver shot through her. "It's just so weird, being here. I mean, I always knew she had a place up here, but I had no idea... I guess I figured it would be decorated by Alma, and have chains hanging in front of the doors or something." "This was decorated by Alma, actually." "You're messing with me!" "Alma is quite good at what she does, she just lets people underestimate her, it gives her an advantage." "She must be the most advantageous immortal in the city then," Tara shook her head, and Miklos almost choked on his dinner. "Why do you call me Miki?" "I dunno. I must have heard it once. From Jo, I think, I don't know where she picked it up." "My brothers used to call me Miki, when we were small." "Was this when dinosaurs roamed the earth, or just before the steam engine?" "Let me keep some of my mystery," he chided her, smiling. She looked away. "Does she know you're up here?" "She sent me." "Ah." There was an uncomfortable pause, as Tara finished the fish and vedge, and got up to place the dishes in the sink. Absently, she took the empty glass and rinsed it out, trying not to think about what surely wasn't wine dregs in the glass, and set the dishes carefully in the washer. She found the soap just where it should be (under the sink) and noted with envy how quiet the washer ran. Hers at home sounded like a marching band on spin cycle. Slipping into the familiar routine, she didn't even notice how the vampire watched her, amused, until she turned back around. "What?" she stood there with her hands on her hips. "So... Domestic." "Yeah, well, I learned to cook from my father, and clean from my mother, and I'm better at both of them than they were. I'm lying, my father is a great cook. But I'm hopelessly domestic, you're right. How many brothers?" "Three. What will you do in the morning, now that she's 'in the clear' as you put it?" "I have no idea, I know *Oncle* is involved somehow, I just don't know how. Best to be prepared for surprises, I guess." "How does one prepare for surprises?" "By kicking nice vampires out so one can catch at least four hours sleep." "Ah." "Wake me at dawn? I'd like to be out of here before, you know... The sun. And I'm sure I'll have work to do soon enough anyway." "You're wrong, you know." "About what?" "I'm not nice." "Sure you are. I only hit on nice men. I, on the other hand, am a terrible person, I drink too much, I smoke too much, I tell lies for a living, and for relaxation. You should be ashamed to be seen with me." She chuckled, and wrapped the robe closer around her, smiling wistfully. "Good-night, Miki." He kissed her hand, and then disappeared down the stairs. Falling onto the couch, Tara curled up into a ball, her thoughts spinning with questions and answers, none of which matched, and within minutes she was sound asleep. And because she was asleep, she never saw the figure that slipped in and stood over her, frowning, in the darkness before the dawn. As it was, she had nightmares. ************************************************************* Right Place at the Wrong Time by Selma McCrory and Tara LJC O'Shea Nick watched Selma work with the sketch artist, his mind only on half the job, he was still trying to fathom all the frames that were popping up around them. He looked up as Grace approached. "Good evening, Grace," Nick said absentmindedly at the young woman looked at the sketch and nodded. "Yes, that's the person," the young woman said. Grace casually looked over at the sketch and gasped. "What is it, Grace?" Nick asked. "I've seen this person before. At the office. In the lab." "What was he doing?" Nick asked. "She, Detective. She was handing Natalie something to sign, a small piece of paper. I thought she was one of the new lab techs, that she was working with the evidence." Alarmed, Nick looked down at the sketch for the first time, and hid his surprise. It was the girl he had just spoken to at The Raven, Tara. *But that's impossible...* He quickly covered his shock, and casually asked "Have you seen her since?" "No." "We'll check it out, Grace. If this person is responsible for framing Nat or killing Stonetree, we'll find him. Or her." He tried to sound convincing, but he wanted to dash out of there, and question the girl again. She couldn't have been lying to him... She certainly didn't seem capable of murder. But weren't killers liars too? "Thank you, Detective. I'll keep my eyes out, just in case." Grace smiled, and he tried to match it, squeezing her hand. "Thank you, Grace." He knew Grace was just concerned about Nat, as was he. "You're welcome," she said, and headed off. He watched her go, and then looked down at Selma. "You're sure this is the woman?" "I only saw her for a second, but yes, I think so." "You saw her?" he looked deep into her eyes, and could hear her heart beating beneath the normal noise of the station around then. She blinked slowly, suddenly caught up in the sound of his voice, the world around them forgotten. "Yes." "Do you know who she is?" "No." He released her, and she shook her head, blinking rapidly. "Thank you Ms. McCrory, if we need you for anything further, may we call you?" "Yes, certainly. Of course, I want to find out who killed Joe just as much as you do." * * * Nick came *this* close to breaking the speed limit as he headed back to the Raven, but dawn was approaching, he couldn't risk being stopped, not before he did what he had come to do. "Nichola, what a surprise, I thought your business with us was done," Janette looked up from her desk as he entered her office. "When did Tara arrive in Toronto?" "Why do you ask?" "Someone just ID'd her from a sketch down at the station, said she saw her getting into an elevator with Joe Stonetree the night he was killed." "That's preposterous, Tara wasn't even here yet. And besides, she didn't even know the man. Obviously this witness of yours was lying." "You know she couldn't lie to me, Janette. Where's the girl?" "Upstairs, in my flat." "I need to talk to her." "Cher, she hasn't slept in days, why not at least let her rest a little while?" "There's no time. If she was with him, that makes her the last person to see him alive, and possibly a killer." "And if she wasn't?" "Then someone is trying to frame your girl." "She is not *my girl*." "In any case, I have to talk to her before this sketch goes out over the wire." "Fine, go see her, wake her up, see if I care. I warn you, however, Miklos will be very angry if anything happens to her." "What?" "They have an understanding." "Half the female population of Toronto has an 'understanding' with your bartender," Nick muttered beneath his breath, and started up the stairs to the apartment above the club. * * * Tara shifted on the couch, uneasily, and the figure watching her looked up at the sound of feet. As Nick entered the flat, the figure slipped out the window, and disappeared. Nick bent down and touched Tara's shoulder gently, trying to wake her. She sighed, a frown creasing her features, and then her eyes flickered open. "I thought you never did anything that couldn't be fixed," he said as she sat up, self-consciously pulling the bathrobe tighter around her, and blinking the sleep from her eyes. "What now, Detective?" she said, wearily, and looked up at him with guileless eyes. "Someone saw you get into the elevator at the Royal Constellation with Stonetree the night he was killed." "That's impossible, I wasn't here, I was in Chicago, I can prove it." She headed towards the bedroom, and he followed her. She held up her clothes. "Do you mind?" He allowed her to step into the changing room, leaving the door open a crack so she could still hear him. "Do you have any proof?" "My airline ticket, hotel receipts from the Hyatt Regency out by O'Hare, I guess. I didn't check into the Constellation until after the body was found." "That won't prove you weren't in Toronto, you could have come in early, stayed in another hotel under an assumed name, you have more than enough of them." "Ha ha, very funny," she exited, once again in her black turtleneck, pants and boots. "Are you brining me in, then?" "No, not yet. But we need to get to the hotel and get those records, they're desperate for a suspect, someone must be setting you up." "Great, one frame for another." He opened the door for her, and she stepped through, and they headed down the stairs. Miklos looked up from the bar as they went past. "I'll be back," Tara said, as much to convince herself as the vampire, who simply glared at Nick as he counted out the drawer. * * * "They were here!" Tara updumped her suitcase on the bed, tossing clothes left right and centre as she looked for the travel agency envelope with all her receipts and tickets. "I'm not *this* scatterbrained, I wouldn't have lost my ticket. For crissakes, my passport was in there, I wouldn't lose that." "Calm down," Nick placed his hands on her shoulders, but she knocked them away. "*You* calm down, I'm the one being framed here." "Now you know how Nat feels." "Low blow." "Come on, they could have fallen out of your bag when you checked in, maybe someone turned them in at the desk." "At least let me change," she held up a pair of jeans and a sweater. Nick rolled his eyes heavenwards, what the hell was wrong with what she had on? Eight hundred years, and he still didn't understand women. * * * "I'm sorry miss, no one has turned anything in," the desk clerk looked appropriately apologetic, and Tara's shoulders slumped. "This can't be happening," she said softly, and Nick laid a hand on her shoulder. "Knight! Good work, you found her," Schanke headed across the lobby, a patrolman and LaCroix in tow, and Nick could feel Tara's shoulders tighten beneath his hand. She looked at him with fear in her eyes. "Miss, I'm afraid you'll have to come with us." Schanke's tone was anything but polite. "Are you arresting me, Detective?" Tara addressed Nick, ignoring the mortal detective for a moment. "No," he replied hastily. "We just want to ask you a few questions," LaCroix said, stepping in front of Schanke and taking her by the arm. Tara's eyes lit up with hatred, and he smiled as he led her out to the car. She glanced back at Nick over her shoulder, frightened, but he was staring at the back of LaCroix's head, his fists clenched at his sides. "C'mon, partner, one last thing to do before shift ends. Capt'n'll be pleased, it's about time we finally got a suspect in this case." "Yeah," Nick looked down at his shoes, feeling helpless. He quelched it quickly, and set off across the lobby towards the glass doors to the street with a renewed look of determination as he saw the back of Tara's head through the rear window of the squad car. It was bowed, and he could only wonder what was going through her mind as the squad car pulled away from the curb and headed downtown. Nick got into the Caddy, revving up the engine, and almost pulled away before he noticed Schanke standing at the passenger door, waiting for him to unlock his door. He reached across and pulled up the lock, and Schanke jumped in, slamming the door. "Not bad for a night's work, eh?' "This one doesn't feel right, Schank." Nick pulled away from the hotel, hands clutching the steering wheel til his knuckles were white. ************************************************************* Interceptions by Cousin Lisa Alma obediently stamped on the brakes, whereupon the Alfa Romeo came as close as a sports car can to doing a wheelie in the middle of a fortunately deserted Yonge St. "What's the matter? You forget something?" "No, it's what I just saw. Turn that way." "I didn't see nothing." But Alma swung the wheel left. They were just in time to see Nick, Schanke and Captain Cross disappearing into the building which, according to the sign on the facade, housed CERK. Lisa took a hasty drink from the rum. "Why's LaCroix riding around with Nick and Schanke?" Lisa was thinking out loud, but Alma took the query literally. "Lisa, maybe you shouldn't ought to drink no more. That wasn't LaCroix, it was some guy from Internal Affairs at the police, name of Capt. Cross." "Yeah, and I'm Cleopatra. That's LaCroix." Lisa smiled grimly. "Alma, I think we'll see Zenaida some other time. Take me to Feliks Twist's house, instead." Feliks was far too gentlemanly to refuse a lady. "By all means borrow my computer, my dear. Do I want to know why?" "No, as far as you know, I started feeling sick and I was lying down in one of your guest rooms. Thanks, Feliks--I knew I could count on you." Lisa installed herself in Feliks' studio. First she retrieved the disk with her copy of her late Cousin Joe's files from her purse and read it with great interest. Now she saw why, after she'd had a chance to examine them herself, Selma McCrory had hastily passed them along to the person most concerned. Obviously, this was not the version Joe had brought with him to the hotel. Lisa nodded to herself. "Very well, several can play at this game, and I think I know who's going to be the Dummy." She invoked Feliks's communications package and began to type commands. ************************************************************* In her office, Amanda Cohen stared at the files that had appeared on her screen when she typed in Stonetree's account number and password. Normally she would have ignored the anonymous phone call but with the Stonetree case chasing them all around in circles and two mutually exclusive suspects in jail, she couldn't afford to ignore anything. Behind her Schanke, commandeered as a witness, muttered, "man, oh, man." They finished reading at noon. Schanke had run out of the room after the first page of Stonetree's draft memoirs and returned with the copy of the files supplied by Selma McCrory. The alterations were just where the caller had predicted. Capt. Cohen frowned, "*do* you know this Lisa McDavid?" "Yes," Schanke admitted. "She was one of the witnesses in that weird thing with the scorpions at the hotel. Besides, she's a friend of my mother's from Feline-L." "Feline what?" Schanke looked sheepish. "It's an internet list for cat- lovers. Zenaida Stonetree's on it, too." "H'mm, so she's Stonetree's cousin, she was at the hotel and the files have been altered just like our little bird on the phone said." The terminal began beeping frantically. Capt. Cohen switched out of Stonetree's account and into her own. "That does it." Cohen's voice was grim. "First we have Stonetree's memoirs on the police mainframe where they can't have been tampered with and now the lab raises fingerprints on Stonetree's body where somebody moved him after he was dead, and the fingerprints come back to the name that's in place of Ms. McDavid's in the files on the mainframe. Detective, I think we want to have a little chat with the Crown Prosecutor. "Yeah, Nick Knight," said the answering machine. "I'm either in bed or incommunicado..." Schanke's voice issued from the speaker. "Hey, pard, in case you're still there, Cohen wants you down at the precinct, stat. Things hotted up while you got your shut-eye. Lee and Horton just brought in the somebody else in the Stonetree case. Looks like Janet and Nat'll walk, after all." ************************************************************* Nick looked puzzled. "The perp in the Stonetree case insists on seeing me?" "Yes, sir," said the young woman who had escorted him downstairs. "Something about not talking to anyone else. He's in here." So saying, she shouldered the heavy fire door open and gestured for Nick to precede her. This was a mistake, because when Nick stopped, thunderstruck, in the middle of the floor, she ran into him. "Good evening, Nicholas," said LaCroix from the holding cell. ************************************************************* The Nightmare Before Conviction by Amparo Bertram Natalie sat on her bunk, hardly able to believe she had been arrested. As she contemplated this turn of events, a quiet voice reached her ears. "I sense there's something in the wind. "That feels like tragedy at hand..." she thought. She looked around for the source of the song. Outside her cell, a young woman in uniform was writing in a notebook at her desk and singing under her breath, probably unconsciously. The officer wore glasses and had what appeared to be a large quantity of brown hair bound up in a braid. She seemed vaguely familiar. "And though I'd like to stand by him, "Can't shake this feeling that I have-- "The worst is just around the bend." The words served to make Natalie even more depressed and anxious. She *knew* Nick would do his best to clear her name, but was it possible? The evidence against her was hard to refute, even though it had all been planted. Just the thought of being convicted of the murder gave her the shivers. The song wasn't helping any. "And does he notice my feelings for him? "And will he see how much he means to me? "I think it's not to be." "Do you mind?" Natalie called out. The guard looked up in surprise. Natalie recognized her, but the name was somewhere in the back of her mind. She would remember eventually. "Sorry," the woman apologized, blushing. She pulled a book out of a desk drawer and buried her nose in it. Nevertheless, the damage had been done. Natalie's already frayed nerves were completely on edge. She shoved herself off the bunk and began to pace. ************************************************************* Safe as Houses by Tara LJC O'Shea The Raven was quiet, it wouldn't open for a few hours yet. Miklos was behind the bar, as usual, making sure they had enough cocktail napkins and limes. Alma had gone downstairs to fetch a case of scotch, they were getting low. Janette was upstairs no doubt getting ready for whatever this night would bring, choosing the proper attire for surprises. Jasmine and Tami were seated at a booth, having explored the premises, making sure there were no devices, listening or otherwise. They watched and listened, having been caught up on what had gone before in the truck on the way over. "You know, I haven't really slept yet." Susan sat at the bar, watching Tara pace the length of the dance floor. "Okay, let's look at this logically. Someone stole my tickets and my passport from my hotel room." "I mean, I know it's possible for a person to go days on only a few hours." "And Selma really believes she saw me, which is impossible." "But I'd rather not test this theory." "And someone hacked into the airline computers to change my records." "Are you even listening to me?" "Hmmm?" "Sleep." "I don't have time." Tara dismissed the thought with a wave of her hand. "Not you, me." "What? Oh, Jesus, Susan, I'm sorry," Tara's hand flew to her mouth. "It's okay, you've got a lot on your mind." Susan yawned. "Why me? I didn't get here until after the murder, I wasn't a logical suspect unless..." "Unless what?" "Unless someone wanted me out of the way for another reason entirely." "I don't follow." "Let's work this out. Who knew I was working behind the scenes? You, obviously, and Nat, but she didn't know until late in the game. Janette, Nick, Miki and Alma. And none of them would have framed me for murder, I'm helping them." "Obviously, someone doesn't appreciate your kind of help." "Who would want to stop me from clearing Janette?" "Whomever framed her, I suppose." "That puts us back and square one, why frame Janette? For that matter, why frame the good doctor? I did it to draw suspicion away, buy time, but this was much more thorough, much better planned. Premeditated." There was a knock at the door, and Miklos slipped out from behind the bar to open it. "Okay kid, what ties Janette and Natalie together?" Susan decided to try the Garrett theory of Logical Progression, which had served her pretty well in the past. "Nick." Tara resumed pacing, and heard muted voice at the door. "And by hurting them..." Susan prompted, and Tara snapped her fingers, standing in place. "You hurt him." She chewed on her fingernail. "Who would want to hurt him?" "Uh-oh," Susan looked past Tara to the little scene that was presenting itself. Tara glanced up, and all the colour drained from her face. A girl--no, Heather, the shop-girl from Darkangel's, held a sharpened wooden stake to the bartender's heart, her gray eyes wild, dark hair framing her face, which was so pale it made the light dusting of freckles across her cheeks stand out. Miklos backpedaled, and came up against the bar. Susan hopped down from her stool, and stood beside Tara. "Heather, what are you doing?" Tara asked softly. "He messed with my head. Mind rape, do you know how that feels? What it's like to have someone digging around in your thoughts?" "No, I don't know how it feels." "I know what he is, what they all are. They have no right!" She pressed the stake closer to Miklos's heart, but he didn't wince. "No, they don't," Tara said matter-of-factly. Heather looked at her, a little of the fire going out of her. "I had no right to ask him to place the false memories in your mind. He did it because I asked. I did it because I thought I had to, it seemed like a really good idea at the time. So if you're going to destroy anyone here, it might as well be me, I'm the guilty one." "But... But, you're human, aren't you?" "Yes. Miki is my friend, and I would be very upset if you were to hurt him." Out of the corner of her eye, Tara could see Alma standing in the doorway from the cellar, eyes flashing amber. Susan shook her head minutely, but Alma ignored her. In a flash, Alma was across the room, wrenching the stake from Heather's hand, and locking one hand around her throat, fangs bared. "No!" Tara shouted, and Alma froze. "No, let her alone." Reluctantly, Alma let the girl go, hissing for good measure. Heather massaged her throat, staring daggers at Tara. "Who the hell are you, anyway?" Heather could feel a massive headache coming on, and rubbed her temples. "First you have Drakula here do a number on me, then the police are asking me all these questions, and then some big goon picks my brain--" "What goon?" Tara placed her hands on Heather's forearms, frowning. "I was coming out of the shop, yesterday evening, and there was this guy. One of them," she nodded her head towards Miklos and Alma, who continued to glare at her. "What did he look like?" "Tall. Short hair, brown I think, but it could have been blond, it was dark. I could have sworn he was that cop... He never said anything then, just watched me, but last night..." "He made you remember *me* specifically?" "He said... He said he had a few questions for me, made me... He made me tell him everything, and then he made me forget. Except I didn't forget, I did for a while, but now I remember, I remember it all." "LaCroix," Tara spat the name, releasing Heather's arms and starting to pace once more, her cheeks flushed with anger. "Of course, he had to get rid of me, and then..." She laughed sardonically, her brown eyes hard, "then he has the gall to ask me to join him! That bastard!" Heather sat down, a bit confused. She swore she had come here with a very specific purpose, resolute no less, and now she had gotten all turned around, and the person she thought she should hate was angrier than she herself had been. Tara stopped pacing, and sat next to her, impatiently pushing her auburn bangs out of her eyes. "Heather, I'm sorry. I know what I did was wrong, and I shouldn't have involved you in all of this, he used you as a pawn, and that never would have happened if it weren't for me. I'm going to fix it, all of it, and then..." "And then we all have a bone to pick with Internal Affairs Investigator Cross," Janette appeared in a gold and red ensemble, hair swept up and held in place with combs. "Who, it seems is in jail. Isn't that lovely?" ************************************************************* The Persistence of Vision Shadows War (2) by L Bruce Gray The shadow stepped out of the alley directly across from a large apartment building. The shadow stepped in through the front door just as some one else was coming out. "Was that the wind?" said the man to himself as he continued down the street. Meanwhile, the shadow went over to the stairs and went up. After a few floors, the shadow went out into the hall to a specific door. He only stopped for a moment to check the number on the door before carefully picking the lock. He went inside and closed and locked the door. The shadow moved around the apartment until he saw the computer on the table. Taking a small package out of the folds of shadow around him, he put it on the desk and began to remove some cables from a satchel and hooked the package up to the computer in the back. After hooking up the cables, the shadow turned the computer on with a gloved hand. Then he flipped a switch on the package. Lines of data began appearing rapidly on the screen. The password was soon in the shadow's possession. After using the password to unlock all of the files, he sat down at the computer desk and input the following: The shadow knew that this would make a copy of everything that was currently on the hard drive inside the computer to the small package on the desk. While this was being done, he went around the small apartment looking for papers to make photos of and checked for a safe or other hiding places. He had to put the cat in a closet for a few minutes while doing this. The cat must have known he was a stranger. After checking to see if there was no other data to download, the shadow carefully removed all evidence of his presence. The last thing he did before leaving was to let the cat out of the closet. The shadow left the building the same way he came. A few blocks away, he made a telephone call from a nearby booth. He waited only long enough for the connection to be completed and then said, "Target L has been acquired,", and then hung up. ************************************************************* Random Acts (9) by Diane Echelbarger Natalie picked up her mail on the way to her apartment. There was a small package as well as the usual collection of bills and junk mail. She tossed the mail on the table and took off her coat. When she turned around, Sidney was nosing the small package across the table, making eager mrrowing noises at her. She took the package away from him and frowned. It was addressed to *Sidney* Lambert. Sidney put both front paws on her forearm and nosed the package. His miaows became more demanding. Nat opened the padded envelope and upended it. A flat tin, about four inches by six, slid out onto her palm. It had a Lesley Anne Ivory cat on the lid. She stepped away from Sidney's insistent prodding and pried it open. It resisted, then snapped up suddenly, releasing a shower of small, fragrant green leaves. Sidney, rrowling ecstatically, jumped to the floor and began rubbing his face in the scattered catnip. There was a small white envelope half buried in the catnip- filled tin. Nat pulled it out, and opened it. A white cat adorned the front of the card. And it was blank. Again. *************************************************************