Clue by Tara LJC O'Shea The Raven had been open for less than an hour, the regulars pouring in once the doors were opened. Janette went straight back to her office, and Tara sat at the bar. "Anything new?" she asked Miklos as he handed her a glass of tonic. She frowned, but she supposed drinking wasn't the answer now. She needed a clear head. "They found another body." "Oh, not again. I'm not connected to this one, am I?" "Don't ask me, those two ladies found the body," he pointed out two women sitting at a booth across the bar, "perhaps they can shed more light on the matter?" "Thanks, Miki." Tara picked up her drink and headed across the bar. * * * "Do you mind?" Sharon and Jennie looked up to see a red-haired stranger. They traded glances, and Jennie nodded to Sharon, who scooted over to make room for the woman to sit. "I'm Jennie, and this is Sharon, we were hired by--" "Jennie," Sharon protested, it didn't seem right to tell a perfect stranger about the case. "My name is Tara O'Shea, I'm a... Friend of the owner, she was implicated in the murder, but has been cleared. This case is getting to us all, I'm afraid. I have a... Personal interest. I heard another body was found?" "A police officer, we... Um, we found her body. Her throat was..." Jennie was having trouble, and Tara laid a hand on her arm, smiling encouragement. "I understand." "She... The officer I mean, was clutching a pin, the police have it now." "What kind of pin?" "It was about this long," Sharon held her thumb and forefinger about two inches apart, "and shaped like a sword." "Silver?" "Yes, how did you know?" "I know that pin. So does the Detective, I bet. Oh, this just gets better and better." Tara shook her head, not believing her luck. Sharon and Jennie thought it was an odd statement, and stared at her in horror. "Oh, I mean, it's terrible what happened to that poor cop. But I know who killed... Him?" "Her. Shouldn't you go to the police?" "I'm afraid it's not a matter for the police, not this time." "Listen, we just got into town, and we're not all that familiar with the case, do you think...?" "I'd be more than willing to help get the good doctor cleared. The man who did this deserves to pay. Where shall we start?" * * * Nick looked up from his desk to see three women enter and walk purposefully towards him. He noted with dismay that Tara was among them, the other two he recognized as the ones who had discovered Officer Charmer's body, and the sword pin. "Can I help you ladies?" He leaned back in his chair, but did not rise. "I'm Jennifer Hayes, and this is my partner, Sharon Himmanen, we're investigating the matter of Joseph Stonetree's death." "You're police? RCMP?" "Private investigators, actually." Nick blinked, and then realized Nat's lawyer must have hired them. "I'm sorry, but I'm not authorized--" "Bugger authorization, Detective. You've got two murders here, falsified evidence left, right and centre, don't tell me you're turning down our help." Tara leaned forward onto the desk, her voice pitched low so only they could hear. "You and I both know Nat, Janette and I were framed. I know it was LaCroix who conspired to have me thrown in jail, and I know he killed Deb Charmer, and you and I both know this investigation involves more than mere mortals." "Ms O'Shea, or Kaye, or Constantine, or whatever your name is, do you have nothing better to do than to harass me?" "No, as a matter of fact. Not if harassing you helps me undo what was done by, shall I say, our common enemy?" "There's nothing common about LaCroix." "I need to do as much as I can while he'd in jail, and powerless to stop me." "Us," Jennie amended, a little confused as to exactly what Tara was referring (more than mere mortals?). She and Sharon traded nervous glances. "Yeah, us," Sharon added. "As long as he's here, we have a chance of discovering just how much he has muddied the waters, and carefully disassembling the frames he's constructed. You do want to see Nat go free, yes?" "Of course I do," Nick snapped, and then removed a file folder from his desk drawer. "If I can't stop you..." "You can't," Jennie assured him. He spread the contents of the folder across his desk. Among them were photographs of the hat and letter remnants, and a Xerox of the receipt. "That's taken care of," Tara pushed the photocopy aside. "This was," Nick held up the photo of the first letter, "was legit. He was asking her about a case." "And this one?" "Stonetree did sent to Nat," Nick lowered his voice, "but it wasn't... He was asking to meet with her about me." "I gather you couldn't tell this to the Captain?" Jennie asked. "No." "Then we'll move on to the second letter." Tara studied the photograph. "Handwritten..." "So they are originals, no hope of tracking down copies," Jennie peered over Tara's shoulder at the photo. "Anything turn up on the paper analysis?" "Stationary, half-sheets of heavy cotton-linen blend, no watermark. Still fairly common though, sold in packs at card shops, copy shops, etc." "And Nat never saw it before?" "No. She has one like it, but not this one. The ink is too fresh, it had to have been written in the last week, and Nat hadn't heard from him in days." "Then whomever planted it must have gotten it from someone else. Stonetree..." Sharon thought aloud, staring at the photograph. ************************************************************* Please Take Good Notes, You Will Be Tested by Tara LJC O'Shea "Are you sure about this?" Jennie squeaked as they approached the door to Stonetree's flat, and Tara ignored the "Police Line--Do Not Cross" yellow tape across the door, and opened her hand. "Do you have lockpicks?" She looked down at the lock, not at Sharon, who began digging through her purse. "Sure, I mean, I've never actually used them." She handed Tara a thin leather wallet with a set of steel picks inside. After a few seconds of fiddling, the door gave way, and Tara stepped inside ducking under the tape. "I mean, I know they're technically illegal, but all PI's have them," Jennie added, looking about nervously. "Remington Steele, Magnum, all of them." The Police had gone over the place but obviously not very well. The wastepaper basket next to the desk was still full, though Tara was sure the police would have gone through it. However, since they didn't know what they were looking for, it would have been easy to overlook... Whatever it was *she* was looking for. "Um, do we know what we're looking for?" Sharon asked. "The paper." "What, like the note?" "Yeah." "But, we know it came from here." "Yes, we do. But we also know it didn't go to Nat," Tara started combing through the trash, and her eyes lit up as she found a crumpled half-sheet. "I don't believe it," she smiled, and passed the note to Jennie. "It's dated the day he died. See? He crossed one of the words out, he must have started another one, and that's the one LaCroix stole. I've got him." "We," Jennie reminded her, and scanned the crumpled note. ------------------------------------------------------------- Dear Selma, I can't begin to tell you how lovely I found the flowers you sent. I have them in my living room, their arrival made me so happy, I hate that I've lost touch with your branch of the family. If I can help you at all during your stay here, don't hesitate to give me a call. Joe. ------------------------------------------------------------- Sharon lifted the blotter on the desk, and produced a four and a quarter inch stationary envelope, with Selma McCrory written in bold script, more importantly, Stonetree's script, across the front in blue ink. * * * "No, I never received this." Selma handed back the Xerox of the note to Jennie. "But you do know what he's talking about?" Sharon asked. "Oh yeah, our grandmother raised us to always write thank you notes, it wouldn't be polite if we didn't, I wrote him one just three weeks ago for helping me arrange my visit." "Would you mind tell the police what you've just told us? They have the original by now, courtesy of an anonymous source, and this would really help the investigation." Tara stood in the doorway, poised to leave, and Selma nodded. The two investigators shook her hand, and the three of them headed back down the corridor of the hotel. Tara had stopped at her room to pick up a change of clothes, and washbag. "Can I ask you something?" Sharon regarded Tara curiously as they waited for the lift to take them downstairs, where they would part company, Sharon and Jennie to make their report to Elaine, and Tara a had telephoned a cab to take her back to the Raven. "Sure." "Why are you doing all this?" "I'm doing this to make sure the person responsible pays for what he's done." "But do you actually know Nat...?" Jennie frowned at her, and Tara walked them to their car. "This isn't about Nat, not really. Darkangel will discover shortly that her store copy of the receipt found at Nat's can't be from her store, because the register receipts from that day don't match, which undoes what I did. That note being stolen will go a long way to getting her out of jail, and it gives me more pleasure than you can imagine to undo what was done by... Lucas Cross." "You called him LaCroix when we were at the station." "Did I? My mistake, obviously. You ladies have a good night." Tara smiled and stepped back, and the investigators pulled away from the curb, still a little puzzled. ************************************************************* Less than Haute Cuisine by Judith Freudenthal Natalie paced her cell trying to ignore her stomach. She hadn't had much for breakfast and then due to all the commotion missed lunch. She was starving. She was a little surprised at how hungry she was. The door to the cell block opened and a policewoman entered carrying a cardboard box. The policewoman headed straight for Natalie. "Step away from the door." Natalie did as told. The policewoman unlocked the door. It opened and she set the cardboard box down inside the door. She quickly locked the door and left. Natalie hungrily picked up the box. She looked inside and found dinner. She walked over to the bed where she unpacked the box. She grabbed the foil container holding the main course and eagerly dove in. It was cold macaroni and cheese. "Yuck." Natalie was starving so she ate as much as she could stomach. The coffee was weak, cold and black. The bread was soggy. The chocolate chip cookies were stale and hard. She passed on the coffee, bread and cookies. Natalie heard the corridor door open and looked up. Nick entered holding a bag. He walked up to her. "Nick. Any news?" Natalie said hopefully. "Nothing concrete. We're working on a few leads." Nick said. "I've heard how bad the food can be so I brought you some of your favorites." Nick motioned for the policewoman to unlock the door. She did and Nick handed the bag to Natalie. Natalie took it. The door was relocked. "You're a lifesaver, Nick." Natalie said pleased. "I ate better tasting paste in first grade. Most of it was just about inedible. Please get me out of here." "Schank and I are doing our best. Oh, I almost forgot I bought you a couple of books. I hope you like them." Nick took Natalie's hand as it was reached out to him. This "human" contact made Natalie feel much better. "Thanks." "I've gotta get back to work." Nick said before he turned and left. Natalie sat down on the bed and unpacked the bag. It was still warm. A chocolate shake, a large carton of Beef Lo Mein and a slice of chocolate moose cake. Three books were in there--two romance novels and "Interview with a Vampire." "Interview" drew a grin from her. She dove into the food starting with the cake. Then she ate the Lo Mein and washed it all down with the shake. She was stuffed. She started on "Interview" as she ate. ************************************************************* An Old Friend by Judy Freudenthal Police station. Judy Freudenthal sat at Det. Knights desk reading his files. Knight entered. She put down the file and turned to face him. "Nick. Good to see you again. Any luck with the case?" Judy asked. "No. I'm getting dizzy from all the loops we seem to be stuck in. In all my years I've never seen anything this bizarre. Everyone is framing everyone else. You've read the files. What's your take?" "I think you need to start over at the beginning. Look at the facts and listen to your guts. I find it very interesting how everyone around you is getting framed one by one. I wonder when Schanke will get his turn. Unless someone doesn't deem him worthy enough." Judy saw the clock. "I have to run. I'll stop by later with some more impressions on the case." "Okay." Nick said half there and half lost in thought. *--**--**--**--**--**--**--**--**--**--**--**--**--**--**-- Coroner's Office. Natalie is finishing an autopsy when Judy entered. "Hi Natalie. Glad to see you on this side of the bars again." "No one could be happier about that than me. What brings you here?" "I am indirectly helping some friends. I came to write about the case. I promised Nick I wouldn't do anything about it until the arrest is made. And-" "He promised you an exclusive. Nice deal. Let me guess, you want to know what I can tell you that isn't in the records." Judy nodded. "Prison food is the pits. Nick brought me "Interview with a Vampire" to read. LaCroix is in prison. A.k.a. I. A. Inspector Cross. There isn't much more. Someone went to a lot of trouble to frame me. I found it curious that Janette and I were both framed. And we're both friends of Nicks." "I noticed that oddity. Has Nick or Schanke been framed yet?" "Schanke hasn't yet. One was attempted for Nick but no one bought it." "If you think of anything..." Judy said. "I'll be sure to contact you. Be careful." "You sound like Nick." Natalie grinned. "Will you still remember us when you become rich and famous?" Natalie teased. *--**--**--**--**--**--**--**--**--**--**--**--**--**--**-- Judy is back in her hotel room. She's seated on the bed with her Apple laptop powered on. She knows Knight's password as well as Lambert's. They make the accessing the police and coroner's mainframe a lot easier. She's forced to hack her way deeper into the systems. She finds a few curious files. She downloads the files for later reading. The less time she spends on-line the less of a chance she stands of being detected. Once she's out of the mainframe she looks over the files. She sees some oddities in Stonetree's autopsy, where various results don't match his service record. Also she reads the beginning of the manuscript. She saves the information and unplugs the phone connection. She turns off the computer and goes in search of some serious chocolate supplies. She knows she will need the serotonin boost to read the rest of the manuscript. She returns with freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, peanut butter cups, rocky road candy, and chunks of dark chocolate. Also Beef Lo Mein and a lemonade for dinner. She turns on her computer and starts in on the manuscript. A while later she gets to the part about a certain blonde detective with a "sun allergy". "I see he finally caught on. Joe, maybe you shouldn't have put those facts into the book. I wonder where you are?" Judy says out loud to herself. ************************************************************* Living In Another World by Jennie Hayes and Amy Hull The red haired woman was led down the hall by her elbow. As she approached, she was wriggling against the guards' grip and dragging her feet. Her unkempt hair stood out from her head in all directions and her eyes were wide with terror. Nat looked at the woman she was now incarcerated with. //Oh, lovely. They bring someone here, and she's not even here. I wonder where she thinks she is?// After darting wild glances around their cell the woman scooted into the corner, warily keeping her back to the wall the entire way. She scrambled onto the bunk, drew her knees up beneath her chin, clasped her arms about them and began rocking slowly. She watched Nat closely the entire time and was now glaring at her with alarming intensity. Nat thought it might be a good idea to try to help the woman calm down. "Hi, there." Nat sat down on the cot, being careful to leave the woman plenty of space. The woman pressed herself back into the corner and continued to stare at her with wide eyes. Nat glanced up, and noted that the policewoman on guard was watching them over her notebook. She looked like she expected trouble. Nat shrugged and turned her attention back to the woman, smiling in as friendly a manner as she could. "What's your name? I'm Nat," she tried in the gentle, soothing tones one would d use with a child. The woman still didn't utter a sound, but her eyes narrowed a bit and she turned her head slightly to the side. Well, that was a hopeful sign. She reacted. "So, whatchya in fer?" Nat drawled. No change. Since this wasn't really a topic *she* wanted to elaborate on, either, Nat tried switching gears. "Don't let me bother you. I guess I'm just trying to keep from wondering what my replacement is doing to my lab while I'm here. They've probably gotten one in by now... This is why I don't take much of my vacation time, either. You always have to spend so much time fixing things when you get back." The woman was frowning slightly, but Nat thought she was a bit more relaxed. She let her voice trail off, but leaned against the wall and continued thinking. They would probably have someone re-autopsying Stonetree now, in case she'd suppressed some evidence. More wasted time. If only she were out of here, she could get something useful done. Her eyes closed of their own accord, and she didn't have the heart to resist sleep. ************************************************************* Double, Double, We're In Trouble by Bruce Gray "CAPTAIN STONETREE?!?!?" exclaimed Nat. "But you're supposed to be dead!" "Not hardly." said Stonetree. "Then who is it that I just finished..." Nat started. "My twin brother, George." Stonetree interrupted. "He was the 'black sheep' of the family. We kind of lost track of him after the... Incident with the swimming pool. But, I guess we know where he is now." "I never knew you had a twin brother--or any brother for that matter." said Nat. "I never talked about him because he was such a bad egg. He embarrassed my family a long time ago. He left our family or my father would have thrown him out. Last I had heard of him he was living in Iowa." "What was he doing here, then?" asked Nat. I don't know. It must have been pretty important for him to want to come all the way out here, especially when you consider how my family feels about him. We'll never know what it was, now, though." Stonetree sighed. "I just had Captain Stonetree looking over these other reports." Cohen said. "He's told me a few things about his brother, but nothing that would seem to indicate why his body was found... Well, in the condition it was in. It could still be that the murderer thinks that he really killed Stonetree. I've recommended to the department that he be taken off of his current assignments and kept someplace safe, at least until we find the killer. Meanwhile, don't mention this to _anyone_. It could be that someone in the department has something against Stonetree--or the other police that have turned up dead. I mean tell _no one_--not even Nick or Schanke. I knew you'd find out. I suppose that's the coroner's report there, isn't it?" Nat nodded, and said, "The data didn't match in the central computer because that _isn't_ Stonetree down in the morgue." "That's right." Cohen replied. "And we want it to stay that way, at least for now. Don't want to give the killer any new ideas, do we?" "No..." Natalie started to say more, but stopped. "I knew you'd see things my way." said Cohen. "Now get back to the lab and put that body away before someone else finds out our little secret. I'll take Stonetree to one of our 'safe houses' until this is over. I'll get him out of here the same way he came in--through the back door. If you find out any more, call right away." Nat went out of Cohen's office and back down to her office. She was thinking about the strange twists and turns this case had already taken... And now this. There was still no better explanation for the nightie or anything else either. Suddenly, Nat had an idea--and there was no one else around to tell it to. She picked up her medical bag and went quickly out the door to her car. ************************************************************* Living In Another World part 2 by Jennie Hayes and Amy Hull As Nat got in her car, she heard a strange humming. "Wait, where's that coming from?" she thought. She opened her eyes slowly, and the strange red haired woman came into view, back to rocking again, but this time her eyes were focused on a lock of hair which she held in front of her face, twisting it with her fingers while she hummed a tune Nat couldn't quite identify. Nat sat up and stretched, wondering if they were putting something in the food here and disappointed to find herself still in the cell. The red-haired woman didn't seem to notice her now. Nat was suddenly angry that the woman was in here. She obviously needed help, not locking up. Someone wasn't thinking when they put her here. Nat stood up. "Excuse me," she called as softly as she could to the guard, who looked up. "Shouldn't she be somewhere else, where she could get help?" The guard barely glanced at the woman. "She's being detained until the proper people come to get her." "Oh." There didn't seem to be that much more to say. "How long will that take?" "Awhile yet. They had to figure out who to notify first. She's only been here for a couple of hours. Why, is there a problem?" "Just that I don't think this place is doing her much good." "Well, Doctor, it's the only place she has for now. And she seems more patient about it than you." Nat went back to her pacing. The woman didn't glance away from the hair now, and she got worried at the lack of reaction. Nat started babbling aimlessly to the woman again, just for the comfort of having a voice in the room. She edged closer to the woman, hoping that physical contact could bring her back from where she'd hidden. The first couple of steps met with no reaction, which Nat hoped was because the woman had begun to accept her rather than because the woman was totally rejecting the world around her. Several cautious minutes later, Nat was close enough to reach out and touch the woman's shoulder. As she made contact, there was an explosive response and the woman let out an inarticulate, ear-shattering screech. Before Nat could blink, she'd slipped off the bunk and pressed herself into the corner beneath it, emitting panicked squeaks. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you." Nat tried to make her voice as gentle as possible again, "It's OK, nobody's gonna hurt you. You're all r-" "Good work, Dr. Lambert. Torturing the insane now, are we?" Nat jumped and whirled to face the source of the voice. Behind her, she heard a thud which must have been the woman hitting her head on the bunk as she tried to get even further away. Sheppard stood behind her, smirking triumphantly. "What unfortunate circumstances, finding you here, needing my help." "What are you doing here?" Nat advanced on the bars with a murderous look in her eye and her jaw clenched with pure rage. "I'm your attorney, of course, unless you can hire someone else on your salary." "Oh, no. You *can't* be my attorney." Nat restrained herself from adding "I hate you too much." "Oh, and what are you going to do to change my office's assignment of this case to me?" Nat imitated the woman's earlier gloating expression, "Conflict of interest. You aren't finished trying Dr. Reston, and I'm a witness in that case. If you won't tell your office that, I'll tell them for you. I'm sure they wouldn't be pleased that you failed to mention that information to them." Ms. Sheppard's face turned nearly purple and her lip trembled angrily. "Fine. Then you'll just have to make do with whoever I suggest they replace me with." She turned and stormed out, her heels clicking furiously on the hard stone floor. Nat watched Sheppard until she disappeared around the corner, them her shoulders sagged and she took a slow, deep, calming breath. She turned back toward the bunk, only to find the red-haired woman had edged out from underneath it and was now leaning her head against it, looking at Nat like she was crazy. ************************************************************* Data, Data, Who's Getting the Data? Shadows War (3) by L. Bruce Gray The shadow stepped out of the alley directly across from a small residential home. He only stopped long enough to check the address against a small piece of paper. Then he checked the building carefully for any signs of life. Once he had made sure that no one was home, he began to carefully pick the lock. Then he went inside and closed and locked the door. The shadow moved around the house until he saw the computer on the desk. Taking a small package out of the folds of shadow around him, he put it down 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 home looking for papers to make photos of and checked for a safe or other hiding places. After checking to see if there was no other data to download, the shadow carefully removed all evidence of his presence. The shadow left the same way he came. A few blocks away, he made a telephone call from a nearby phone booth. He waited only long enough for the connection to be completed and then said, "Target S has been acquired." and then hung up. ************************************************************* Interlude by Andria M. Marcoux Schanke was grabbing a coffee, still trying to understand the implications. Which was more unbelievable? That Janet had something to do with Stonetree's murder, or that Natalie did? Jenkins stood next to him, humming under her breath, ba-do ba-do-daa-daa dadadadadadada. Carlos was drumming on his desk with his fingers, ta-thm, ta-thm. And was that someone singing? "...Long blond hair, short black dress, Standing there, unimpressed. She's a snake--- charmer. Yeah--- She's a snake-- charmer." Schanke knew that if he let them think it bothered him, they'd never let it go; so he casually strolled back to his desk. "One look, I'm a basket case. I get shook. Wiggle up to investigate And I'm hooked. Close enough to hear her sighs; Close enough to get a rise." He flipped through his rolodex and dialed the phone. "Heads come up; Blood starts to rush now. Music gettin' tough." "Hello, George? It's Don Schanke, yeah, Sorry to bother you, but do you still have contacts at the CRTC?" "She blinks; I'm- I'm- I'm on my knees; I can't think. She says, "What's wrong with you?" And I shrink." "That's great, thanks... Really? We're gonna have to look out for you guys at the next... Uh-huh... Okay, so let me know when they find her... I've got a few questions..." "Now I'm just a little worm." Schanke hung up the phone. Nothing cut through red tape like an old hockey buddy who worked for the government. "Beautiful, guys, just beautiful. You are wasted in public service, you know that?" Nick sat on the corner of Schanke's desk as the more musically inclined members of the department returned to their duties. "What was that all about?" he asked, pointing at the phone. He knew better than to ask about the serenade Schanke had just received. "Oh, just making a little request of my own. We ready to roll yet?" ************************************************************* Strategic Retreat by Andria M. Marcoux "And this one is going out to Lt. Darkstar, who requested anything from the Nightcrawler, just so she can hear that sexy voice of his. I guess my sexy voice just isn't her cup of tea, so here's one of my favorites, a holiday classic..." The man turned down the radio, not interested so much what he was hearing as how he was hearing it. Working on a tip from his old hockey buddy George, he'd discovered that a brazen and not-too-bright radio pirate was putting out enough signal to drown out a commercial station. Brazen, because pirates usually broadcast their own signal instead of overlapping someone else's, and not-too-bright because that kind of power was way too easy to trace. It turned out she was even more brazen and a great deal smarter than he'd given her credit for. They'd traced the signal easily enough, but there was no pirate to be found. He turned his attention back to his phone conversation. "If she's using this tower to boost her own signal, why don't we just shut it down?" The man who worked for the company that owned the tower that was broadcasting the signal was more than a little cranky at being dragged out of bed and being held accountable for something that turned out to have nothing to do with him or his company. "If we shut down the tower, she'll know we're on to her. We let her think she's still getting away with it, we have a chance of finding the source of the original signal. Thanks for your cooperation, and if we need anything else, we'll let you know." He turned the radio back up. "Well, as promised, that was the Nightcrawler for Lt. Darkstar, a clip from last June about fatherhood. We're scheduled for a little down time here on Nightwatch, but don't worry, we'll be back on the air in about twenty minutes, so keep those requests coming in. Remember, I don't just think I'm getting away with this. I know I am." He didn't bother checking his equipment. He knew the signal was gone. ************************************************************* Busted! by Deborah Menikoff After dragging Lashoka and Deborah down to the police station, ignoring their claim that they had *not* been breaking and entering, the arresting officers began the time- consuming process of pressing those very charges. The two Cousinly jailbirds were told that each would be permitted one phone call and then they would be taken to separate interrogation rooms to await questioning. As she was shown down the hall to the phone she would be using, Deborah saw (and heard) Lashoka arguing with one of the officers about whether or not the call could be long- distance. *Give 'em hell girl* Deborah thought. Seconds later, Deborah found herself faced with the phone... And a dilemma. *Who* would she call? Uncle was *not* a possibility. Even if she knew where to reach him, she suspected that her explanation wouldn't sit too well. The other Cousins were obviously knee-deep in various nefarious (though admirable plots--yeah Candice!). Lisa McDavid? Yeah, what about... Wait. Chances were that Lisa had already taken a wee nip or two, this being wartime and all. Not Lisa then. *What I really need,* Deborah thought, *is a lawyer. Problem is, I don't know any Canadian lawyers.* She stood there thinking about her situation. And about lawyers in general when suddenly... *That's it! A Mercenary! I need a Merc. Who could act more like a lawyer than a Mercenary? They both believed in the bottom lines. Loyalty to whoever was fitting the bill. YES!* She dialed happily, glad she had made sure of where other factions were gathering in the area and spoke rapidly to her Merc of choice. Dianne, she knew, was worth her weight in gold and jewels (which ironically is what she asked for in return for her services). Promising payment for services rendered once she was sprung, she hung up and was led in to another room where she was to wait for the investigating officers. Just knowing help was on it's way, Deborah found that her mood had improved dramatically. She'd be outta here before Uncle even found out she'd been in and then she get back at who ever had set off the alarms at the station and called the police. The very thought made her feel 200 percent better That is... Until the door opened and she saw just *who* the investigating officers were. ******************** "Are you Deborah?" Det. Schanke asked coming into the room. She nodded. "Great. I'm Det. Don Schanke and" he pointed to the scowling man with him "this is my partner Nick Knight." She nodded again. "Deborah, do you mind if I call you Deborah?", asked Det Schanke. She shook her head, but said nothing. As he seated himself on the chair to her right, "Now. Are you comfortable?" he asked with great courtesy. She nodded again, determined to say nothing until her "lawyer" arrived. Det. Schanke smiled at her "Good. Now... Could you tell us what you know about the murder of Captain Joseph Stonetree?" "What!?" *That* jolted her into talking. "Nothing. What could I..." "Oh come on," Nick barked as he leaned in on her left "you were talking about it earlier on the radio before the cops shut down your little broadcast. Now give!" "Look, I have no idea what your talking about" she insisted, looking left "But, you mentioned it earlier on the airwaves, you must know something." Schanke urged carefully "No, someone else sent a broadcast over the..." she began, looking right. "Spill it", demanded Nick "But I..." she looked left. "Deborah please try and understand..." Schanke interrupted, though kindly. "We just want to help." "WAIT! I'm telling you, I..." she looked right. "Lady, look," at Nick's words Deborah looked to the left again, starting to feel like a tennis spectator "Tell us what we want to know." She didn't answer. She couldn't imagine *what* she was going to do. "Listen Deborah, why don't we take a break." Schanke said looking at his partner significantly. "I'll get us some coffee. Want some?" Deborah saw that look. Suddenly, it all fell into place. Nick's tone, Schanke's offer of coffee. "Oh no. Oh please tell me you're not. It's so... Cliche! Oh!" She felt the giggles coming. It happened when she got really nervous. She'd tried to stop before but anyone who had ever seen Deborah with a case of the giggles knew, there was just no stopping them. Both detectives looked at her "Not what?" Schanke asked hesitatingly. "You are" she shrieked with laughter. "You're doing Good cop/Bad cop. Oh my sides, oh my head. I gotta stop laughing... I gotta... Bwhahahahaha." Looking at the concern on the faces of the two detectives, she went off on another peal of laughter. After a few minutes she calmed down and asked if the offer for coffee was still good. Schanke looked relieved that the laughing had stopped and hurried off to get the beverage. Deborah didn't really want coffee but she did want to talk to Nick. Alone. Surely if Nick knew she had compromising information on that tape from the answering machine, he'd see the sense in letting her out of here. Before the questions got to close to the truth or before Uncle arrived. Nick apparently had the same idea. As soon as the door shut behind his partner, he spoke "You're one of LaCroix's followers aren't you? Both you and the other... Lashoka" Deborah shrugged, "He asked us to cover the station while he was out. It was harmless." "Murdering Captain Stonetree wasn't harmless!" he growled "LaCroix didn't do that." she scoffed "What *possible* motive could he have ?You on the other hand..." her voice trailed off suggestively Nick looked confused "What are you talking about. I didn't have any reason to kill Stonetree... He was... A friend." "A friend who was sneaking around checking into your past. Yeah, great friend. Looks like your *friend* didn't trust you. He called CERK the day before his death. I have it on tape. He was checking you out. After all this time, *someone* was checking you out. Nick. come on. Think a minute. You know what they'll think. No one will believe that you didn't know he was asking questions. That won't look too good to Internal Affairs will it." Nick was stunned. It gave Deborah a supreme feeling of accomplishment. She smiled. "Where? Where is this tape?" he demanded. "I don't believe you." "With the rest of my stuff. They took it all when we got busted. Said they'd hold it for us. I imagine my lawyer will pick it up when she gets in." She got up and walked around the table coming face to face with him. "What should I tell her Nick? I could tell her that this was all a mistake. I can get rid of the tape. Or should I tell her to turn it over to IA? Which is it going to be? Hmmmmm?" "Blackmail. Why does that not surprise me? After all, you're one of *his*." He stepped to the doorway and made sure that LaCroix wasn't around "Well let me tell you something, he won't help you. He'll hang you out to dry." "No." Deborah shook her head. "You think he will protect you. Wrong. He'll throw you to the wolves. He'll let you go to jail. He'll *even* press those charges " "No! He asked us to go there... He won't..." She was getting very upset "Yes!" Nick insisted "He's here now. Has he come to see you? Did you even know he was here?" He could see by her face that she hadn't known. He continued, pressing his advantage. "He isn't going to help you. He's using you and the others to do his dirty work" She shook her head but wasn't able to look him in the eye. Nick went on "I know him better than you. Listen to me, you made a hasty decision, you don't have to stay a Cousin. Pick another affiliation. He can't stop you. You can change. Anyone can change." She looked up suddenly as if she had heard something. She seemed to be listening to something. Then, after a moment, she turned slowly to face Nick again. "Anyone Nick? You can't. You haven't. You're still the same as you were the night you met Natalie, aren't you? Much as you want to, as much as you think you have, you *haven't* changed." Something flared in his eyes, it might have been anger. It might have been something else and that's when Deborah realized that Uncle's little telepathic pep talk just then might have put her in serious hot water. Luckily the door opened and in came Schanke. As he handed her the cup, he said "Deborah, look. I was talking to Captain Cohen while I was getting the coffee. I want to offer you a deal. We just want a little information. No big deal. Give us that and we might be able to get the station owner to drop the charges." "But the station owner... I mean. He wouldn't do that. I'm sure of it" (After all, he'd just told her so even though no one else had heard it.) Suddenly, Nick's emotions, which he had just reigned in when Schanke arrived, welled up again at the thought of a man he both liked and respected having been killed and left the way Stonetree had been. "This is a waste of time Schanke. Lock her up. Let her think about what it will be like spending a lot of time behind bars." He was right in her face, and though from a distance it was a nice enough face, up close and this angry Deborah found it menacing "You are gonna be sorry you ever got involved in this." "I didn't do anything. You can't do that" Deborah shouted. "Watch me!" Nick shouted back. "Nick, yelling at her isn't going to help" Don interrupted. "Well neither is coddling her. Stonetree is *dead* Schanke, and I want whoever did it." He whirled around and pointed at Deborah, "and she knows who it is, isn't that right?!!" he said slapping the table. "How dare you" shouted Deborah, slapping the detective. And the door opened yet again. ************************************************************* Making a Scene by Cousin Deborah I couldn't see anything. Not because the room was dark but because my head was in my hands. How had it come to this?... When the third season had been announced and everyone invited to participate in the filming, I didn't think I would go. I was wrong. Right after that note, came an urgent message from Uncle and several calls from cousins. I was to go to come to Toronto, meet with the other Cousins, accept the invitation from Mr. P. and keep my eyes and ears open. Well, I'd *done* that but nothing is ever as simple as it sounds and neither was this. A great deal had happened during filming, but at this very moment, I couldn't think about that. All I could think about was what was up on that screen. I peeked over the top of my hands just in time to see the start of my first scene. I probably didn't want to see it. My hair would be horrible, the outfit worse... Why was I sitting here subjecting myself to this... I covered my eyes back up. "What is this?" murmured a voice in my ear, "surely you're not shy." It was LaCroix. "No of course not, and don't call me sur... Oh never mind." I shook my head, still not looking up. "Shhhh," came from behind us I lowered my voice to a gravely whisper and leaned towards him "You don't understand. I *hate* myself on film. I only did this for you. I don't know why I couldn't keep an eye on things from the other side of the camera." I glanced up just in time for my big moment... interior: in the interrogation room NICK ...isn't that true? (slapping the table) DEBORAH "How dare you!?" (slapping the detective) The audience gasped. Back in my seat, I just groaned. "Brava." LaCroix applauded softly. "Not my original vision but you threw yourself into that with great... Abandon." I peeked from between my fingers and saw him... Smiling at me. "You really think so?" He nodded and I sat up a little straighter. "Well, I did sorta like that part. His endless dithering does grate on my nerves. It would have been *even* better if I'd hit him *with* something." "Oh, I *agree* The chair for instance would have made more of... An impact." "But... Then, Why'd you take it out? I meant to ask at the time but you weren't around..." "What?!!" "Shhhhh!" from behind again He turned a vicious face on the people behind us and they pulled back as if slapped. He dragged me out into the hall (luckily I was sitting on an end seat. It's fiction, I can sit where I want) where he could vent without distraction. "What do you mean take it out? Where did this *alteration* come from?" He had picked my up by the collar of my shirt and had pressed my against the wall. "Well it was in the script I was given along with some of the other changes," I went up a little higher on the wall. "Other changes?" His eyes got so red it hurt to look them. "I assumed that you knew about the changes." It was getting really hard to breathe. "I mean... Who would dare do that without your approval? " Suddenly he let me go. I slumped against the doorjamb. "Yes, *who* indeed?" he hissed, looking back towards the screening. Someone was in trouble, I could only dream it wasn't me. As if reading my mind, he looked down and smiled. It wasn't as comforting a smile as it had been before, but it was something. He reached out and touched my neck. "My apologies, cherie. It wasn't your fault. A great many things are making more sense now. Go back watch the rest of the show--alterations and all. It may the only showing this particular episode ever has." With a light caress on my cheek he was gone. For a moment, I just stood, looking at the spot where he had been standing then I slowly I made my way back into the auditorium to watch the rest of the show. "And my mom says *I'm* moody." Jeesh. ************************************************************* Random Acts (10) by Diane Echelbarger Natalie pushed the door to the lab open with her hip. Her left arm was wrapped around a brown paper bag full of Armenian food, and a six-pack of Coke Classic hung from her right hand. It had been her turn to fetch lunch. She shoved the bag onto her desk, sat the soda next to it, and went to find Grace. The Coroner's Assistant was in her "office;" a corner of the hallway near the storage area. It was partially shielded by 5-foot high partitions upholstered in oatmeal-colored burlap. She was examining a brown cardboard box. "Hey, Grace, dinner's here," Nat said. "What's that?" "I don't know," she replied. "Henry said someone dropped it off about an hour ago. He brought it back when he took his break." Henry was the security guard on duty at the front desk after closing. "So, open it!" Nat said, and handed her a paper knife. Grace smiled, took the paper knife, and slit the brown packing tape that sealed the top. She lifted the flaps, and pushed aside the Styrofoam peanuts to reveal a business envelope and a row of matching book spines. She picked up the envelope and removed the two sheets of paper inside. The first was on heavy, waterbond, parchment-colored paper: ----------------------------------------------------- _Collector's Edition Book Club_ Thank you for your order. As requested, we have enclosed the complete Vampire Chronicles Collector's Edition Set. These books, hand-bound with marbled end papers, have been personally inscribed, autographed and dated by the author, Emily Weiss. We know your purchase will bring you many years of reading pleasure and be a valuable addition to your library. Please allow us to serve you again in future. Joseph Margint, President ----------------------------------------------------- The second was a small yellow bill of lading, stamped PAID IN FULL in bright red ink. "Look at this!" Grace said, handing Nat the letter. As Nat read, she pulled out one of the books. It was full hardback sized, bound in dark blue. *THE DENIED* was stamped on the cover in gold. She opened it and read the inscription on the flyleaf. ----------------------------------------------------- To Grace: I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Emily Weiss March 22, 1995 ----------------------------------------------------- Natalie read the inscription over her shoulder. "Wow. Who sent it?" she asked. "I don't know," Grace said. "There wasn't even a delivery label. Henry said the kid just dropped it on the desk, told him it was for me, and left." She began to unpack the rest of the books. Natalie helped her. Each book was signed by Emily and dated March 22. As Grace lifted the last book from the box, she noticed a small, pale blue envelope on the bottom. She picked up the gift enclosure and freed the card from the envelope. Kermit smiled up at her from the front of the card. She opened it, eager to find out who had sent it. It was blank. ************************************************************* Off the Hook by Cousin Deborah Lashoka was pacing. There wasn't a lot of room for it since the interrogation room wasn't that big but she made due with what she had. She'd refused her phone call and was beginning to wonder if she had made the right decision. After all, there were a number of very good reasons to get help One--she was alone. She hadn't seen Deborah since they'd been separated upon arrival. Two--She was in a foreign country. Sure it was Canada not Singapore and it's not as if she been spray painting cars but still... And three--it was a foreign country with broadcast laws of it's own. They were not likely to take kindly to US citizens coming in a mucking things up. Nor were they likely to believe that she hadn't mucked them up and that some mysterious outside force had been sending a signal from an undisclosed location. Yes, there were plenty of reasons to call for help. Why then, a rational person, might ask, did she refuse the call. She'd seen LaCroix. She had the phone in her hand when she saw him and had hesitated. Then she'd seen him shake his head, very, very slightly, she might even have imagined it. She sure hoped not because it was that head shake that had made her decide to put the phone down and trust him to get her out of this. That had been half and hour ago. As she made yet another circuit around the table, the door opened and LaCroix came in. Her heart jumped slightly. She had after all, messed up. He would not be very happy. It wasn't her fault but he was unlikely to debate the finer points of her arrest. She was prepared to defend herself. She took a breath and started to speak... Then she saw him smile. At her. "Lashoka." he said placing his hand on her shoulder. "You have made me proud." "I... I have?" she was stunned and still unsure. "Yes, yes of course. Here you are, far from home, alone, in jail, looking for a way out and you trust in me to protect you. This is something I had not expected. Not from one that I was... As of yet, still unsure." "I... Well, ummm... You're welcome... I mean... Thank you." she paused. "I guess I knew you wouldn't let anything too bad happen to us." As he continued to smile she felt much more confident and continued "At least, not at the hands of someone else." she chuckled a little nervously hoping he would find it amusing. He did. He laughed softly at first and then it grew... It might almost have been called a guffaw except that Uncle wasn't a guffaw kind of creature. When his laughter had subsided, he put his arm around Lashoka's shoulders and led her from the room. "You need to get some rest," he said. "There is a great deal more to be done and as you have proved your loyalty to me, I will depend upon you more than ever." "But what about the breaking and entering charges... And the station?" Lashoka asked "What about Deborah? Isn't she coming as well?" "The charges will be dropped. I will see to it." He frowned. "I will deal with Deborah... Soon. She has called for outside assistance and I feel she will benefit from some time to think about that." He had led her outside the station to a waiting car. As she stepped in to the back seat, she looked up at him. "Thank you, Uncle. I... I mean it. I knew that you would be there for me." "Of course my dear." he said, his voice caressing her as softly as his hand caressed her hair. "I will *always* be there for you." And with that he shut the door and the car pulled out of the station driveway. ************************************************************* WKRP (oooops CERK -- can you tell the difference?) by Sara Orel Sara had been organizing things at Merc central for a week, and doing research at the University of Toronto library in her spare time (not that there was that much spare time--she was impressed with the speed the other Mercs went through the beer and orange juice in the fridge, plus the cat food the house was going through daily was absolutely unbelievable...!). But the research she had been doing dovetailed nicely with the contacts and market analysis she had done before arriving in Toronto, and she had managed to obtain a commission to complete her mission, so she was getting paid in addition to the money she already had arranged to be paid as a market consultant. It was the way Mercs did things. And although she was sure things would not work out the way her initial clients expected, it would be terribly entertaining in the meantime. She caught the phone on the second ring "Midnight consulting- -may I help you?" The voice at the end was very businesslike (after all he had a business to run). "Dr. Orel? This is Larry XXXXX, from Arkansas. You and I are to meet this afternoon for you to present your concept to the marketing committee. I was calling to confirm the time." "Two o'clock. I'll be at your hotel then." Arrangements made for the interview and presentation, Sara set out to organize her papers one more time. She had the _Toronto Star_ advertisements, the _Now_ magazine with all the fun parts clipped out (it would not do to really upset the board at the beginning--besides, she did not want to end up the one getting sued), but with the radio ratings set out on the inside front page, and the tapes of the commercials with some of her fellow Mercs doing the voices (they all LOVED to sing...) and a particular Merc doing a deep throaty rather sexy voice advertising the place for the coolest shoes... Sara had always been good at convincing others that her ideas were the absolute best way to go (almost a Cousinly manner, in fact), and she had data to back her up, and had rehearsed the spiel in front of a friend who taught marketing at the University of Kansas, and she was ready. The gray suit with the skirt just the right length, the red and white silk scarf tying the long blonde hair back, the red power silk shirt and high-heeled black pumps, and she was ready to look like and act like the owner of the highly- successful Midnight Consulting advertising agency that she was. ************************* She spent some time presenting the material in the folders she had handed out to the committee (all but one male, she noted with disappointment, and all but two American--so much for NAFTA affecting hiring practices...). She was pleased with the nifty laser printers and color copiers set up in Wendy's house back on Crawford. "...So as you can see, the purchases in your 24-hour Walmart stores in Etobicoke and Mississauga drop off dramatically after 9 p.m. and you need some way to increase attendance at the store in order to justify keeping the stores open all night. As you can see, the majority of your purchases after that time are by customers aged 20 to 30. This is the same audience that makes CERK the number two station between midnight and 5 am in the core of the city. The fact that your store is within relatively easy walking distance and a 24 bus trip away from the U. of T. campus in the western portion of the city, and York University is convenient as well, means that it may benefit you to target that audience. As well, CERK's revenues have not reflected its status as #2 as they have never had a very aggressive sales team. I have contacted them about the potential for market saturation with a series of ads targeted to the college community..." ************************************ The Walmart people listened to the Mercs singing to the tune of the Beverly Hillbillies theme, extolling the virtues of Walmart shopping and that certain low-voiced Merc talking about an upcoming shoe sale (one would even think it was the commentary of a shoe fetishist, Sara thought rather sheepishly, but the marketing committee just wanted to make sure it did not run other than in the wee hours of the morning). They bought both commercial sets on the spot. How soon could they be running? Well Sara did a quick calculation, and considering the mess that currently was CERK, she figured this evening would be soon enough. Two spots an hour from 5 a.m. until 10 p.m., when it would go three... And there would be a grand opening extolling the virtues of the Nightcrawler (did she think he might be available to do a remote broadcast? She could certainly look into it...) with free popcorn and Cokes, and prize drawings for tapes... ************************************************************* Sara stopped off at CERK with the tapes, dubbing them onto the tape cartridges (did they still call them carts?) where they could be programmed into the station commercial log. The money from Walmart, incorporated, was deposited into the bank account, thus committing CERK to attempt to fulfill the contract in good faith. This could be fun, Sara thought. Whether or not the Nightcrawler was actually on the air tonight or it was someone playing his tapes, she spent the afternoon imagining his face when he heard the Merc chorus singing in perfect harmony about finding a wonderful world at Walmart... Should she mention the fact that they sold stuffed Barneys in the next ads? ************************************************************* Double or Nothing by Dianne T. DeSha A tall, impeccably-dressed redhead carrying a briefcase strode into the room, radiating authority. Nick, however, was not in the best of moods. Holding one hand to his face he demanded "Who the hell are you?" "I, Detective," she responded professionally, "Am Ms. Menikoff's attorney, Dianne L'Avocat, and I wish to speak to my client _now_. "_Alone_," she added. "Your _client_," Schanke countered, "Just slapped a police officer!" "We'll see," Dianne smiled unpleasantly. Before either detective could respond, Cohen motioned them out into the hall. They obeyed, although reluctantly. As soon as they had left, Dianne turned to Cousin Deborah. "This is _not_ good," she frowned. "But they have nothing on me!" Deborah insisted. "No, not them," Dianne dismissed the detectives with a wave of her hand. "Getting past them is no problem. Heck, Nick hasn't even noticed his Caddy's missing yet. What has me worried is collecting my commission." "I'll pay!" Deborah promised. "Uncle will provide the jewels. He's _very_ generous!" she added, remembering that he was almost certainly still listening in on the conversation. "Is he now?" Dianne's eyebrow raised slightly. "Even to one who has denied him? To one who is considering becoming..." she dropped her voice to a bare whisper, as if the very word were profane, "...a *Knightie*?" "*No*!" Deborah protested in terror. "I didn't, I wouldn't, I _never_..." "Are you sure your dear Uncle will see it that way?" Dianne asked casually, brushing a stray piece of cat hair from her shoulder. "Or should I just leave now?" "No," Deborah protested in a whisper. "I _can_ pay. I have the jewels already. Other Cousins will help me! Just get me out of here _safely_ and you'll be paid." "Hmmm," Dianne considered. "All or nothing? Personally I prefer a 'double or nothing' arrangement." When Deborah started to protest, Dianne cut her off. "After all, that will be technically _two_ escapes. We Mercs do have our standards, you know. There are some unpleasant penalties for handing out 'freebies'. Undercuts the market, you know," she mused philosophically. Uninterested at that particular point in a discussion on the finer points of free-lancing in a market economy, Deborah agreed to the new terms and proceeded to fill Dianne in on the situation. *+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+. Just as Deborah finished, Nick and Schanke returned. "So, have you convinced her to come clean?" Schanke asked. "No gentlemen," Dianne answered pleasantly. "As a decent, law-abiding citizen she has nothing to hide and has already done her best to cooperate with you, under--shall we say-- extremely trying circumstances? "I expect the immediate release of my client." Dianne paused, as the detectives stared at her incredulously. "You have no grounds to hold her for anything except trespassing, a charge that will be proved false as soon as _you_ are able to locate the station's owner," she continued, aiming a pointed look at Nick. "She slapped a _cop_!" Schanke insisted. Dianne dismissed the incident with a wave of her hand, "She's the victim of psychological trauma induced by police harassment. Oh, and that reminds me," she added, opening her briefcase again and retrieving her notepad. "I'll need your full names and badge numbers in order to file a formal complaint." Nick responded with a snarl aimed so only the two women could see the tips of his fangs and the color rising in his eyes. Schanke, on the other hand, looked worried. "We didn't..." he began to protest, but was cut off by Dianne's long-suffering sigh. "Never mind, I'll collect that information later. As for now, I have advised my client to accept your deal. At the time of her arrest she was in possession of a tape retrieved from the CERK answering machine." Reaching into her briefcase, she removed a small audio tape and displayed it for the detectives. "A tape that contains a recording made by Captain Stonetree shortly before his unfortunate demise." Ignoring both Nick's glare and Schanke's excited interest, she continued, "I'm sure you will find this recording quite helpful; from what I have been told it may even provide a motive for the killing. This is why my client, as an honest and civic-minded citizen..." (Vampires were not particularly attractive when they snorted, she noted absently.) "She was preparing to bring it to your attention just when she was so unconscionably and unjustifiably imprisoned." "Now, if I could see Captain Cohen? I would prefer to deliver the evidence to her personally," she said with an appropriately shark-like grin at Nick. *+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+. While Dianne worked out the arrangements for her release with Cohen, Deborah sat alone in the interrogation room, with only a uniformed officer to guard her. When the door opened yet again, she looked up with a smile of anticipation and half- rose from her seat. *Yes!* she thought, *I'm outta here!* Her smile froze in place as she saw the tall, imposing figure who strode through the door. It wasn't Dianne. She sank back into her seat, her fear so great she was unable to protest as "Captain Cross" dismissed the guard and sat on the edge of the table in front of her. "My dearest Deborah," he began softly, one hand reaching up to stroke a finger along the side of her face. "I am quite disappointed with your performance tonight! I give you a simple task and you end up causing me no end of bother." Trying hard to collect her thoughts--an *extremely* difficult task, given the circumstances--Deborah finally found her voice again. "I did exactly what you told me!" (Well, _almost_... She dismissed the thought as quickly as possible.) "But then someone must have switched the tapes and the phones were all ringing and then the police came and they wouldn't believe us..." In some small part of her mind, Deborah realized that she was babbling uncontrollably--it was difficult not to do so when faced with Uncle in person. LaCroix smiled almost tenderly at her, "Of course, it was not your fault, cherie." Deborah allowed herself a small sigh of relief. "Although I _did_ expect more resourcefulness from one of my own," he added with a slight frown. "But I am more concerned about your conversation with Nicholas." Deborah felt the hand resting along the side of her face tighten its grip painfully. "You _listened_ to his slander of me. You _considered_ his arguments." "*No!*" Deborah tried to shout, the word escaping only as the barest whisper. "I _defended_ you!" "But not strongly, not _persuasively_. If I can not be _certain_ of your loyalty," he said, smiling slightly to reveal glistening fangs, "Perhaps more extreme measures are in order?" Just then Dianne strode in, pausing only slightly at the sight of Deborah's visitor. "The charges have been dropped and you are free to go," she announced to the very relieved Cousin. "Perhaps I need to reinstate them?" LaCroix suggested in what could have been mistaken for a pleasant tone. "Nonsense," Dianne dismissed him, ignoring the surprise that melted quickly into displeasure on his face. "Doing so now would be very awkward and look quite suspicious, especially now that they have the tape. It _could_ be interpreted as implicating you as well as Nick, you know." She smiled at his slight frown, "I think you probably want to keep a low profile right about now, don't you think?" He stared at the Mercenary for a moment before turning to Deborah. Leaning so close she was afraid of being burned by those fiery eyes, he hissed, "Don't think that this is over." "Oh, but I think it _is_," Dianne interrupted with an almost- Cousinly smile . "You see, I have been employed to see Deborah safely out of this situation. She is a loyal Cousin and should be treated as such. You will cease to harass her on this matter." LaCroix spun around and snarled, "How dare you presume to dictate terms to *me*!" But Dianne didn't flinch. "You seem to forget, *Lucius*, that I know far more about your past than you perhaps wish to be made public?" Had he had any blood to do it with, Deborah could have sworn LaCroix would have _blushed_. With a final snarl he vanished through the door faster than mortal eyes could follow. Deborah didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until she let it all out in a rush. "What do you... *How* do you know..." she stammered. "It's amazing what you can find in your average university library," Dianne smiled taking her client by the arm and steering her towards the front door. "Now that that's settled," she continued with a predatory smile and a tighter grip on Deborah's arm. "There is a certain matter of payment for services rendered?" Deborah gulped audibly. ************************************************************* Deus ex Machina: Abby's Cousin by Tuppence transcribed by Diane Echelbarger "cousin (kuz'n) 1.(snip) 2.(snip) 3.(snip) 4.(snip) 5.(snip) 6. [slang] a rival or competitor who unwittingly or unintentionally advances one's interests." Webster's The Costumer's Assistant made a final adjustment to the chiton on the form. "How's it look?" she asked. The black silk flowed in graceful folds from the left shoulder, where it was gathered in by a belt of silver mussel shells. The full skirt of the tunic reached to mid-thigh, and the whole outfit shimmered richly in the bright workroom lights. "Good," her boss said. "Shows enough to give the viewers a thrill, but not enough that the brass hats will get upset about it. What's he wearing under it?" "Matching breechcloth. I had to make it pretty skimpy, so the bulk wouldn't spoil the line, but it should cover the territory. It's in the drawer." The assistant removed the costume from the fitting form, and hung it on a hanger. "What's next?" she asked. "Another fitting on that blasted medieval tunic," her boss grumbled. "That Etchelburger woman may know everything there is to know about medieval clothing construction, but I bet *she* never has to get out costumes on deadline." "I thought it was 'Eshelberger?" "Who cares *how* you pronounce it? Those designs are a pain. It's not as if anyone's going to know the difference, anyway," her boss growled. "We've got fifteen minutes before the fitting's scheduled," the assistant said, placatingly. "Why don't we go grab a cup of coffee? My treat." "Best idea I've heard all day," the Costumer agreed, and they left together, locking the door to the shop behind them. As soon as the door closed, a sleek gray shape squeezed through the high, narrow window near the ceiling and jumped down onto one of the worktables. Tuppence ran quickly over to where the costumers had left their work notes spread. When she got to the "Piece de Resistance" scene, she hissed angrily. The Fanged One would *not* like that. She would have to stop it. She scanned the room, and spotted the costume hanging on the wall. With a happy little rumble in her throat, she ran the length of the table and made a flying leap to the shining black silk. Five minutes later, the cat jumped out the window, and went looking for more ways she could help the Fanged One. When the Costumer and her assistant returned to the shop they found the graceful silk tunic in a shredded heap on the floor. Before they could recover from the shock, a gofer rushed through the door and demanded, "Quick, I need the rest of the costumes for the Roman banquet scene! There's been a screw-up in set scheduling, and we have to finish all the Roman flashback scenes this afternoon." The Costumer's Assistant stared from the tattered black silk in her hands to her boss, panic in her eyes. The Costumer swallowed hard, then opened a side drawer and took out a box labeled 'Accessories, NB, Roman Banquet Scene'. "Here," she told the gofer. "This is the last one." The gofer took the package and ran back out the door. "But--but that was *supposed* to be the *underwear*!" her assistant wailed. "It's what we've got left," her boss said fatalistically, "and you heard him, we *have* to film that sequence today. They'll just have to live with it." ************************************************************* Piece de Resistance by Dianne T. DeSha *Starring*: Abby Albrecht in her continuing role as the mortal whose memory tears at LaCroix's heart, even after nearly 2,000 years [Thereby far surpassing in true and abiding passion any later, brief infatuation with, say, a daughter of the 13th century French nobility... ;] *Original Story Idea By*: Anonymous employer [Don't look at _me_ on this one, guys! I just write what I'm told... ] Sitting in the darkened screening room, Dianne saw LaCroix talking to someone in an agitated tone, earning "shh"es from the audience. Now _that_ takes guts, she thought--a feeling that was only reinforced when LaCroix grabbed his conversation partner by the shoulders and dragged her bodily out the door. Dianne winced slightly, having recognized Cousin Deborah as his prey. The scene really didn't reflect _that_ badly on him, she thought, wondering if her one-time employer would ever have the chance to become a regular. Looking back to the screen she hissed quietly in frustration--LaCroix was going to miss the next flashback! Sure, it was probably a lucky thing for the health and well-being of those foolish enough to sit in his general vicinity, but she'd have given half of her last commission to see his face... *+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.* Frustrated by his last encounter with Cousin Deborah and her Merc "attorney" at the police station, LaCroix landed by the boardwalk in Kew Park and looked out at the lake. His black trench coat blended with the darkened waters, leaving only his troubled face visible. He refused to give in to the memories that that _accursed_ Mercenary's threat had brought rushing into his mind and heart. No, even now it was far too painful to think of _her_, his first and only true love... Spotting a mussel shell lying half buried in the sand, the ancient vampire stooped and picked it up reflexively. Gazing upon its pearly shell, he was overwhelmed by the flood of memories... (*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.) The sunlight shone so brightly off the ocean that the enormous seaside villa seemed specially lit by the gods for this evening's event. Lucius stood, partially concealed behind a rubbish heap, and watched the elaborate preparations for tonight's banquet. He watched as the procession went on and on: crates of live frogs, lobsters, and turtledoves; exotically painted dancers in the flimsiest of coverings; trained monkeys and dogs... But none of that mattered to him. *She* would be there, presiding over the festivities, bedecked in jewels and glowing silks, the object of every man's desire--and one poor soldier's obsession. He _must_ attract her notice. How could she not see him when all he could see was her, her chestnut hair, her pale, fair skin... The very thought of her was enough to overwhelm his senses utterly. And yet she did not even know him. His despair at the thought was a great as the fathomless ocean behind him and likewise threatened to drown him if he gave in to its power. He *must* bring himself to this fine lady's attention, but how? Spying a simple shell on the beach, he took it as a sign from Venus herself. Radiating a pure and simple joy he hurried off to put his plan into action. ----------*----------- The light from hundreds of blazing torches glittered and shone off of the highly polished armor and sparkling jewels of her many influential and high-ranking guests. Course after course of the finest and most exotic delicacies from every corner of the empire had alternated with the finest dancers, singers, musicians, and acrobats Rome had to offer. Yet Abby was bored. Her exalted position had meant a lifetime of such events--she found little to truly interest her these days. As she finished her sauteed larks' tongues in saffron sauce-- Really! Had the cooks _no_ imagination anymore?--she yawned behind her hand. With a small, discrete gesture her steward indicated only one course remaining, then this interminable night could end. At the sound of trumpets the room fell silent and all heads turned to see the final course appear. Stepping slowly and majestically, five strapping slaves carried a huge mussel shell on their shoulders. When they reached a spot directly in front of Abby, the two supporting the front edge sank to their knees, angling the shell towards the hostess and ensuring her an unimpeded view. With a dramatic flourish, the fifth slave opened the shell... *+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.* There was a collective gasp from the screening room audience that threatened to suck all air from the room. This was immediately followed by quick looks of fear directed towards the back of the auditorium and by the sounds of violently and painfully suppressed laughter. Deborah had quietly returned to her seat, apparently undamaged, but there was no sign of LaCroix. Damn, Dianne thought. He's missing the whole thing! *+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.* Lucius heard the banquet guests gasp of surprise as he was exposed, but what made his heart leap in his chest was the way in which Abby's eyebrows raised when she saw him. A look of mild surprise registered on Abby's face as she took in the figure revealed within the shell--a tall, fair man clad only in a _very_ brief, black breechcloth, reclining provocatively with one arm resting coyly above his head. She heard a snigger of laughter from the faithful Celtic bodyguard behind her. But could hardly bring herself to reprimand her. It _was_, at least, fairly entertaining. Lucius stretched for a moment, basking in the exquisite pleasure of her gaze, before stepping forward and falling to his knees at her feet. "Divine One!" he began in abjectly pleading tones, "You are my world, my moon, my stars! Only let me be near you, and I will be your grateful slave!" Abby looked at him for a moment, then sighed, her interest waning. "Very well," she commanded, gesturing over her shoulder to Dianne. "Chain him." Her bodyguard stepped forward with collar in hand. [The flashback ends with the image of Lucius, crouched at Abby's feet, gazing up at her in mute and perfect adoration.] *+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.*+. Dianne chuckled a bit herself as the audience lost itself in hysterical laughter. Should have called it "Vampire on the Half-Shell" she thought. She was still miffed that LaCroix himself had not been witness to her latest creative endeavor, but as she saw him reenter the auditorium--to the amused looks and continued snickers of those particularly lacking in common sense or self-possession--the smile returned to her face. Let him _wonder_ for a while, she thought, adjusting her position slightly for a better view of his face. ************************************************************* The Tape Tangles by Sandra Gray "Knight, Schanke, in my office, now," said Captain Cohen as Ms. L'Avocat left her office. Nick and Schanke exchanged glances and stepped into the room. "Close the door." Nick obeyed. "Ms. Menikoff is being released, the charges against her dropped." "What? Why? Have you found the owner of the station?" asked Schanke. "No, but under the circumstances, it seemed a better option than a police harassment lawsuit." She looked at Nick. "Detective Knight, if this murder case is causing you too much personal distress--" "She slapped Nick, Captain," said Schanke. "Not without provocation, according to Ms. L'Avocat." Both detectives were silent. "If your behavior is in any way unprofessional in the future, I'll remove both of you from this investigation and assign the case to other officers. Is that clear, Knight?" "Yes, Captain," said Nick stiffly. "Good," said Cohen. She picked up the audio tape that was lying on her desk. "Ms. Menikoff was about to turn over this tape from the CERK answering machine which she says is pertinent to your investigation." "Captain, you're going to give credence to someone who most probably broke into CERK?" asked Nick. "She claims to have had permission to be there." "But until we locate CERK's owner--" began Nick. "We need to examine every possible lead," said the Captain. She put the tape into a tape recorder and pressed play. Nick frowned. When the tape message finished playing, both Captain Cohen and Schanke looked at Nick. "Oh, c'mon, you're not giving that message any serious consideration?" asked Nick. "It's just more attempts to confuse the issue and distract us from finding the real murderer. For all we know, it's not even Stonetree speaking." He paused, but when no one spoke, went on, "Nat's sitting in jail right now when we know *she* had no reason to kill the Cap'n." "That's so, Captain," said Schanke. "I agree that Nat did not kill Captain Stonetree, which means she's been framed by someone else. Your... Friend Janette Du Charm?" "No. Janette was framed too," said Nick. "This tape is just more evidence of that. Meanwhile, we've let go one of the people who might know something *concrete* about this case." "I instructed Ms. L'Avocat to leave her and her client's addresses with us before she left." Nick snorted slightly, and the Captain looked at him. "Captain, this whole matter of guilt in this case can be solved simply. Just have another autopsy done on Captain Stonetree. The time of death will prove my innocence in this as well as Nat's." Captain Cohen looked hesitant for some reason. Nick frowned at her. Then she seemed to come to a decision and picked up the phone. A few minutes later she said, "Grace? This is Captain Cohen. Who's filling in for Nat over there?" "Dr. Duemling, Captain," Nick heard Grace say. "Connect me with Dr. Duemling please." As she waited for the connection, she looked up at her officers and said, "Time of death enough?" * * * * * * * Dr. Nancy Duemling was in the middle of a break and was taking a bite of a big sandwich when her phone rang. She reached across her desk to pick it up, knocking over her large cup of water. She dropped her sandwich (fortunately on the wrapper) and reached for the phone with one hand and grabbed a wad of the paper towels she always kept nearby in case of such accidents with the other. "Dr. Duemling," she said as she started sopping up the liquid. she thought. "This is Captain Cohen in the 96th precinct. I want you to do an examination of Captain Joseph Stonetree." "An autopsy?" asked Dr. Duemling, rising the rest of the way from her seat and pushing her thick glasses back up on her nose. "No, I just want you to check on the estimated time of death for now." "Okay, Captain. I'll get right on it." "Call me as soon as you've made a determination." "Yes, Captain," said Dr. Duemling and they said good-bye. The doctor threw away the soaked paper towels and pushed back her dark auburn hair from her face. Then she picked up her cup and walked over to the sink for more water. She drained the cup and filled it up again. Then she walked back over to the desk. She separated the wet file papers on the desk and then looked at her sandwich. The Captain had sounded in a hurry, but then she usually did. But she couldn't surely expect her to work on an empty stomach. She sat down to finish her sandwich. It wouldn't be the first time she ate a meal in ten minutes. she thought. * * * * * * * "Okay, gentlemen. When Dr. Duemling gets back to me, I'll let you both know. Meanwhile, I'll put this tape in the evidence file." "Is that necessary, Captain?" asked Nick. "For now it is. You're both dismissed." Nick and Schanke left Cohen's office. "Hey, partner, don't sweat it. I know you wouldn't have killed the Cap'n," said Schanke in a low voice. "Thanks, Schank," Nick replied. "And I don't think she thinks you did, either, or we wouldn't still be the officers of record on this case." "Yeah," said Nick. But he was still worried. "Funny, though. With Nat in jail, you'd think the first thing she'd have done would be to have someone redo the autopsy." "Yeah," said Nick, frowning. "Schanke, run a check on Ms. Menikoff and Ms. L'Avocat. I want to talk to the other girl before she disappears too." After Schanke walked off, Nick went back to the Captain's office and knocked on the door. "Come in," said Cohen. Nick slid into the room and shut the door. "Yes, what is it?" asked the Captain. Using his powers was a risk if they didn't work, but he had to try. Nick matched his heartbeat to the Captain's heartbeat, then started to slow it. He was gratified when her gaze took on a blank expression. "The CERK tape is no reason to check into my background, do you understand?" "Yes, I understand," said the Captain. "No reason to check your background." Nick released his hold on his superior. "Well, Knight, what is it?" asked the Captain. "I... Just wanted to apologize for what happened with Ms. Menikoff earlier. I... Guess I was out of line." "Just see that it doesn't happen again," said Cohen. "Yes, Captain," said Knight, with a small smile. Then he backed out the door. * * * * * * * Some time later, Nick and Schanke were called back into Captain Cohen's office. As they shut the door behind them, Captain Cohen said, "I've heard back from Dr. Duemling on the estimated time of death." She passed a note sheet across the desk. Schanke picked it up, then passed it to Nick. "Well, this proves I didn't kill him," said Nick. "I was here in the station." "That's right, Captain," added Schanke. "At least Dr. Duemling's estimate of the time of death matches what Dr. Lambert told us," said Captain Cohen. "Nat didn't do it," said Nick. "I hope you're correct." "Captain, Nat's a smart woman. If she was going to kill the Captain, she wouldn't leave evidence to implicate herself," said Nick. "Then you gentlemen better get busy and find out who *did* leave evidence to implicate her." Nick and Schanke left the office. ************************************************************* A Long Deserved Nap! by Cousin Deborah It took awhile to get all the paperwork done and what with one thing and another (including Dianne's conference with Capt. Cohen) the sun was almost up by the time the triumphant Merc and the exhausted Cousin left the police station. Having extracted her client from not only clutches of the police but from Uncle's wrath as well, Dianne led Deborah to a waiting taxi and instructed the driver to go to the Regal Constellation hotel where Deborah was staying. Neither spoke, each wrapped up in her own thoughts. Dianne, not surprisingly, was thinking of payment. It seemed only prudent to get it now, while the sun was still up. One never knew when Uncle might show up to... Reassure himself of Deborah's loyalty and then where would that leave Dianne. All lawyered up and nothing to show for it. She'd earned those jewels. Deborah's thoughts were a bit more basic. *Sleep* was at the forefront. This running around with vampires was pretty tough on the old "inner clock." *I'm alive* was another popular theme in her mind every time she thought of the more "extreme measures" Uncle alluded to in order to assure himself of her continued allegiance. The taxi pulled up to the front of the hotel and after paying the fare, Deborah led the way to the elevators and up to her room. As the two women passed through the lobby a sign by the entrance to the hotel bar caught Deborah's eye. It read "Karaoke Night at the Regal Constellation." She sighed. Usually she had a great time at those things, but at the moment, she was *so* tired. If anyone else was around later, after she took a long, long nap, maybe she'd get a group together to go. "What floor?" Dianne asked as they stepped into the elevator. "Oh, uh... 6. Sorry, I was thinking of something else." "Karaoke Night? I saw you sigh at the sign." "Well... Yeah. I do like stuff like that. Will you be around later? Maybe we can get some other people to go?" "Maybe, sure, if I'm around. You look beat. We'll talk about it later... After you get some shut eye... And I collect." she added pointedly "You know, if I wasn't so thankful, and truly in awe of your little performance back at the precinct, I'd resent that little reminder." Deborah opened the door to her room. "Just sit tight a minute. I gotta get the goods." Dianne sat down on the freshly made bed while Deborah got black bag out of her closet and began to unwrap what appeared to be a good-sized leather pouch. "You know, this is a pretty big room just for one person. No roommate?" Dianne commented glancing around "Well, I am not all that easy to live with and I am fairly certain that Uncle can afford it so, why not. And now madam attorney... Your fee." As Deborah spoke those last words, a jumble of color and light appeared to fall onto the bedspread. "Well worth the wait, I assume." "Entirely," Dianne agreed picking up a sapphire necklace from the pile and taking it over to the mirror. "And I know *just* what to wear it with. I gotta tell you, I really enjoyed the look on Nick's face when I threatened to charge them with harassment. Was that priceless or what?" She admired her reflection for several moments as she held the necklace up against her throat. "Didn't you think so?... Deborah?" Concerned, she turned around... To see Deborah curled up on the bed, fast asleep. "Oh." Dianne said softly to herself. She quietly gathered up the rest of the jewelry and her briefcase and as she slipped out of the room, she shut off the lights. "Sleep well." she said as she closed the door. ************************************************************* LaCroix's Turn by Judith Freudenthal Detectives Lee and Horton knocked on LaCroix's apartment door. LaCroix answered it shortly. "What do you want?" "I'm Det. Lee and this is Det. Horton. We have a few questions to ask you." LaCroix was annoyed. He vowed to find out who was responsible. Then he would decide upon suitable punishment for the offender. Reluctantly he waved them in. He shut the door and took his seat on the couch. He picked up the glass of Janette's finest he had just poured and drank while they talked. Being careful to keep the vampire down. "Where were you on the night Joe Stonetree was murdered?" Det. Lee asked. "I was here relaxing. No, I don't have any witnesses." "We have to ask you to come downtown." "Why?" "We have enough evidence to hold you over as a suspect in a murder." Det. Lee asked. "You're under arrest Lucien LaCroix." Det. Horton proceeded to read LaCroix his rights. LaCroix was deciding if he should just kill them and be done with it. He decided against it. Too many question would be raised. It would be easier just to go along and make who ever was responsible pay BIG time. Killing them would also mean he would have to move on and he enjoyed being here with his children and being the Nightcrawler. It would also pose a potential threat to the Community, especially with Nat in jail. He wasn't particularly fond of her but she did help when one of the Community strayed. LaCroix allowed himself to be handcuffed and lead out of the apartment like a common criminal. Two more detectives arrived with a warrant to search LaCroix's. This further pissed him off. He didn't want insignificant pathetic mortals touching his stuff. Luckily he had finished the last of the blood/wine mixture. LaCroix, Lee and Horton entered the police station. LaCroix was booked and photographed. Having all that ink on his fingers only greatly added to his anger. ************************************************************* Interlude II by Andria M. Marcoux "Detective Schanke?" Schanke looked up from his paperwork. "What can I do for you?" "I'm George's friend from the CRTC-" "Oh, right, right," Schanke brightened, "Here, have a seat. Can I get you anything?" "No, thank-you. I understand you have some personal interest in the... Disturbance at CERK last night?" "Personal? No, no, not personal at all. We have reason to believe that the person broadcasting last night might have some information pertaining to a murder investigation. Do you have any leads?" "We're working on several. That's why I'm here, actually. I would like to speak to someone you have in custody-" "The girls we caught at the station, right? I'm afraid we cut them loose last night, but-" "No, actually, I want to speak to Lucas Cross." "Why him? He was with us at the time-" "I'd rather not say. If you don't mind, Detective..." "Oh, sure." Schanke dialed the extension for holding. His brow wrinkled as he counted rings... Nine... Ten... Eleven? "I'll have to go get him myself. Officer Jenkins here will show you to Interrogation 2." As Schanke approached holding, he began to pick up the unmistakable sound of singing. Loud, off-key, and exuberant *singing*. "Chokers from Janette and bumbling from Nicholas," "What's going on here?!" he demanded of the guard. "Bright constant stars and warm blood served by Miklos," "It's the guys in the drunk tank. They just started up, I don't know what set them off-" "The Archivist's Assistant All tied up with strings" "What the--an arc *what* tent?" "These are a few of our favorite things!" Schanke spotted Cross, leaning back, feet up, hands laced behind his head and an insufferably smug expression on his face. "SHUT UP!" Schanke shouted at the frolicking incarcerees. They froze in place. "You-" he pointed at Cross, "have a visitor. You-" he pointed at the guy nearest the bars, who was shaking his head as if he'd just woken from a dream, "What the hell were you all singing about?" "I don't sing." He scowled at Schanke, and stalked to the bench. Schanke turned to the next con, who just shook his head, muttering. "Crazy cop. Nobody singing in here." "Is it Detective Knight?" Cross asked Schanke. "What?" Schanke turned to the imitation I.A. officer. "My visitor, is it Detective Knight?" "No, it's not. Why, are you expecting him or something?" The way this investigation was going, anything was possible. "I will only speak to Detective Knight. Good day, Detective Schanke." Schanke returned to Interrogation 2, and found George's friend listening intently to the radio. "I'm sorry, but-" He was impatiently "shshed" as the CRTC official held up a hand for silence. "What is it?" Schanke whispered. "Wagner." "Oh." Schanke said, and sat down heavily, holding his head in his hands. The music thundered to it's conclusion and was replaced by a female voice. "That's going out to all you Mercs out there from Dianne: 'Go get 'em, guys'. Next up is the Nightwatch News, but first, a reminder that later this evening we will be coming to you live from Karaoke Night at the Tiki Room in the Regal Constellation Hotel. It's our first remote here on Nightwatch and something that we're really excited about. Top story on the news tonight, Preston Manning of the Reform Party announced a plan to eliminate both the deficit and the debt by taxing the accumulated wealth of the blood sucking undead who've immigrated to Canada..." "Unbelievable." Schanke remarked to his companion. "Have you ever--hey!" he lifted his head. The door to the interrogation room was open, and the CRTC official had vanished. ************************************************************* Lurker (5) by Maddog "Steve Austin, Astronaut," Maddog intoned. "A man barely, alive," Rastro responded in a time honored ritual. "We can rebuild him, make him better." "Stronger, faster," "Able to wear blue leisure suits and not throw up!" "Nah, nah, nah, nahhhhhh," the two Lurkers chorused, running in slow motion as they exited the handy Fourth Dimensional Tesseract. They'd noticed that Nick was busy arresting Janette and taking her in for questioning. Deciding that it was time to pay the hero of our story a visit they folded space over to his place. They looked around at the surroundings in awe for a moment. "It's a lot dustier than I thought it would be," Maddog finally declared. "Yeah, you'd think with all his Vampiric strength he'd be able to get those dust bunnies out from underneath his table," Rastro agreed, "Of course with all the Knighties in town one of them's bound to clean the place up." "So, where are we going to put it?" "Right over here," Rastro took the electric wok from Maddog's hands, flipped it over and put it on top of a lamp. It made it look as if the lamp was wearing a hat. She pulled a "Yan Can Cook" book out of her bag and laid it carefully on a coffee table. "Good, uh Rastro, I've got an idea." "Not another one, the multiverse can't take much more." "I think you're going to like this one. This is where Nick lives, right?" "Duh." "So this would be where, like, he keeps his underwear, right?" The Australian woman grinned in understanding, striking her best Bodie pose, she hopped about and started running up the stairs. Maddog quickly followed. It took a few minutes for them to find the correct drawer. "Oi, he folds his socks," Rastro commented, holding up a pair of neatly folded black dress socks. "Found 'em." She held up a pair of men's underpants for Maddog to view. "Very nice, very nice," pawing through the drawers for a moment, she added, "Gee, he sure does have a lot of 'em doesn't he?" "Well he obviously never throws any out," Rastro held up a pair with a bullet hole running through them. "Just like a guy." She stared at a pair of Batman underwear for a moment before shaking her head and hiding them in the back of the drawer. Maddog, easily bored, even if it was Nick Knight's underwear drawer went over to the bed. Climbing on to it, she began jumping up and down on it. "Toss me some of the black ones!" Rastro did so and Maddog began tossing them around singing, "I'm singing in a rain of Nick's underwear. I'm singing in a rain of Nick's underwear. What a glorious feeling," Rastro, deciding that this looked like fun, brought some more underwear up and began jumping too. "I'm happy again," she chorused. The two Lurkers began giggling uncontrollably and jumping higher. Then, since the bolts attached to the beams supporting the bed did not have adequate structural strength they sheared off, causing total collapse of the bed onto the floor. "You bloody fat cow," Rastro yelled, "Now look what you've gone and done." The bed was totally demolished and Nick's underwear was scattered everywhere. "Me? The bed was supporting me just fine until you got on!" "Well, there's only one thing do to," the other woman sighed, "Let's go find something to eat, there's got to be a Denny's open somewhere." "Shouldn't we clean it up?" "Nah, he probably won't notice," Rastro activated the tesseract and the two Lurkers went off to find a bit of pie and ice cream. ************************************************************* Return of the Committee by Dirk Giles The same dark room, again filled with smoke. Possibly the same dark forms, but how can you tell? As before, one voice breaks the silence. "The investigation has about run its course", the female voice said. "Perhaps more drastic action is required." "No!", the male voice said, "you have done enough." The first form leaned forward, and flicked her lighter. A huge flame shot out, igniting the entire cigarette she was holding. "Oops", she yelled, and dropped the cigarette onto the floor, where it happened to land on a cloak, setting it on fire as well. "Cut!", a voice from out of view yelled. "Put that out!" The lights suddenly came on, revealing that the room was only a set in a giant studio. A stage hand ran into the set and extinguished the fire. He then grabbed the half-burned cloak, and carried it off the set. *SPLICE* *TAKE 47 - RETURN OF THE COMMITTEE* "Action..." "So, you have your instructions. We'll meet again in 2 night's time.", the male voice said. "Ok", the first voice said. The forms started to fade from sight. Suddenly there is a loud clunk, the sound of a person walking into a wall. "Ouch!", the first female voice shouted, "I forgot to open the door!" "Cut!" yells the voice from offstage again. "Someone open the door now and leave it open, so she won't keep on running into it!" *SPLICE* *TAKE 48 - RETURN OF THE COMMITTEE* "Action..." The auditorium was filled with laughter at the performance on the screen. JP turned to his assistant. "I tried to give them more screen time; I really tried. Most of the supporting cast were great, but *she* is such a dingbat!" The assistant looked at her notes. "Even after 87 takes she never did get it right." "Oh, well, we'll just cut those scenes for the general release", JP said. "Alex..." the assistant started to say, but JP cut her off. "No, don't say her name, you'll jinx the rest of the show." ************************************************************* Pretty As A Picture Frame (2) by Richard Hudson Richard Hudson as a true early bird woke up at 7:00 on April 3, 1995 and promptly took a shower, brushed his teeth and in grand FoD tradition fixed himself a large breakfast consisting of bacon, sausages, toast, coffee, and three apple danishes for dessert. All in all, a typical morning. Well the breakfast was a bit lavish, but since he didn't know if he'd have time to eat anything for most of the day and the fact that he'd just received payment for his part time work with the Watchers he decided to splurge a bit. After watching "The Transformers" Richard took what was left of his breakfast, including all three of the danishes, two small sausage links. three strips of bacon, three pieces of toast, and of course the apple danishes over to his desk, turned on his computer, a humble 286 with a CGA monitor and 640K of RAM, watched it boot up and then typed "pc" which was the batch file which started Procomm Plus, his terminal program. Bypassing the hundred other 718/212/914/516 bbs's that Richard frequently logged on to, he dialed the number for his internet provider, silly@com, which was possibly the cheapest internet access that anyone could afford. <718-229-0489> Richard logged on and then checked his mail, bypassing the mail he received from the other listservers that he had subscribed to such as Rec.arts.scifi.tv.babylon5, doctor who- l and alt.tv.game-shows and going directly to the Forever Knight lists and reading all of the war posts that were mailed to him during the night. He had received an invitation to stay over at a FoDs house with a few Natpackers during the war as well as transportation from the Toronto airport. He had just sent the letter thanking them for the transportation and the accommodations when his call was suddenly disconnected. After the words NO CARRIER appeared on the screen, the word RING flashed several times. Disgruntled, Richard was preparing to chew out whoever it was that dared to cut him off during this important internet session when he heard the voice of his U.N.I.T contact, Col. Jack Taylor who commanded the U.N.I.T headquarters in Manhattan and who employed Richard's help from time to time to help them deal with the supernatural, especially vampires, which was Richard's specialty of course. "Richard, you there?" asked the Colonel impatiently waiting for an answer. "Yeah, I'm here" answered Richard even more impatiently, hoping that the leave that he asked for had been granted. "So do I get the month off?" he asked with sudden desperation. "Well yes and no," the colonel replied sadly. " I need you on a case. You see, A police captain in Toronto was killed a few days ago and I need you to investigate" "Ok" Richard answered "I heard a bit about it but why do you need my help? "Well, a lot of high ranking police officials in cities near or around Toronto have been dying lately, and here's the kicker and the reason why we need your help. Some people have been saying that vampires are involved. So can you fly down there for me and check to see if the vampire thing is true or not. And as an bonus, as soon as you're finished checking things out, you can take the whole month off. So, will you do it for me?" Richard could barely contain his excitement. His first foreign case and it was all tied up with the WAR. This was the greatest thing that ever happened to him, since joining the Forever Knight mailing lists! "With a deal like that, how could I refuse?" Richard said smiling and trying to keep his cool. "Good, you should be receiving a package containing your orders, the details of the mission and U.S. $1,000 for expenses, and of course a one way ticket to Toronto by noon today so you had better get packing." "Ok sir, I'm getting right on it" not willing to admit that he had already packed a month's worth of clothes in his giant suitcase just in case he got the time off, but he never expected that he would need his surveillance gear as well, so he just said, "Yes sir, and thanks," before hanging up the phone and whooping for joy. Richard spent the next two hours packing his surveillance gear thanking his lucky stars that he had met in order of first to last, The Doctor, who in high school had recommended him to Col. Taylor as a Junior part time U.N.I.T agent due to his knowledge of the supernatural and his intense curiosity, and secondly, Joe Dawson, who Richard met during his short semester at college before he and the college made a mutual decision that college wasn't the place for him, just yet. It wasn't his academic abilities, they had said, it was just that they felt that he wasn't emotionally ready for college life. Well he had met Joe Dawson who was the guest professor in his history class, which was his favorite class, which was strange considering the fact that he was an English major. Joe had taken him under his wing and noticing first his ability with computers and secondly, his interest in the supernatural told him about the watchers and asked if he wanted a job with the watchers. He started out as a data entry operator, entering and researching facts about Immortals until one day he saw an Immortal that he recognized as Xavier St. Cloud shooting another Immortal and then taking his head. Richard knew that this was a gross infraction of the rules of the Game, and that no Immortal, no matter how evil, ever broke the rules of the Game, for whatever reason. So with that knowledge in hand, Richard tailed Xavier back to his hideout, where he met up with James Horton. Richard recorded the conversation between Horton and Xavier and brought the information back to Joe who soon decided to make him a part time Watcher. He generally worked with the Watchers on a case to case basis and had just cleared up his last case, which was his first case of this year and had received his fee of $2,500, which was cheap by Watcher standards but was a lot of money to a 20 year old college drop out who was soon to be starting a training program to learn computer programming. He had just finished packing his surveillance gear, which he got from the Watchers on sort of a permanent loan basis and was beginning to pack the personal items that he always brought with him when he planned to visit someone for an extended period of time when the doorbell rang. "Package for Richard Hudson" mumbled the UPS driver. Richard signed for the package, closed the door and opened the envelope, read his orders, counted the money and put the ticket, first class of course into the pocket in his smaller duffel bag in which he then put his Atari 7800, about 25 of his best cartridges and the used laptop that he had purchased via the classified section of his daily newspaper along with his portable dual cassette recorder/radio, his walkman and his favorite tapes, They Might be Giant's Flood, some Genesis concerts and a selection of Phil Collins songs that he recorded from the radio and a tape of the album Invisible Touch of which his favorite song was "The Brazilian," a instrumental number which was the last song on side two. He especially liked the constant beat and the tempo which relaxed him despite the overall volume and loudness of the song. He also packed several worn looking tapes consisting mostly of a crazy quilt of songs that he heard over the radio from various artists whose albums he didn't yet own and the themes from various shows such as "Doctor Who" and "The Prisoner" and the themes from "All My Children" and "General Hospital." He had also packed the (unofficial) "Highlander" soundtrack, "A Kind of Magic" and two albums from Billy Joel, "Storm Front" and "River of Dreams." He wondered to himself if he was the only person who hated the song "River of Dreams" and knew that It would have won more Grammies if Billy had just released the song "Two Thousand Years" first. He then packed the Police's greatest hits album, "Every Breath You Take: The Singles" and then finally, a tape which he got from a friend on alt.tv game shows which had the themes to several game shows, including the theme from "The Price is Right," "Match Game" and "The Joker's Wild." He then managed to find room for several Star Trek books and still have a lot of free space in the bag to pack some souvenirs and other gifts that he might buy in Toronto. While he was packing, he loaded some of his software from the hard drive on his desktop computer to his laptop which was already in the bag. After he finished packing and put on his clothes, he removed the coaxial cable that connected the two computers, zipped up the bag and called a taxi to take him to the airport. When the cab arrived, Richard put his suit case and the larger duffel bag containing his surveillance gear, which consisted of several bugging devices, a pair of high powered binoculars, a video camera and a Polaroid with lots of film in the suitcase and kept the smaller bag which contained his personal effects and the laptop with him in the car. He took this time to contemplate the arrangement that he had made with the NatPackers about the party and the ride from the airport. Switching gears, which is easy to do when you have both mild autism and ADD with hyperactivity which also made it easy to blockout the driver's constant swearing and to keep his mind on several topics as well as writing this post four times after three previous accidents erased the prior stories without a trace left behind, forcing me to write this story again from scratch, Richard wondered who would want to see Stonetree dead. The obvious guesses, LaCroix and Janette were probably wrong, simply because he wouldn't be worth their time and if they really wanted to hurt Nick, they would have simply gone after Natalie. Richard guessed that the "unknown sponsors" had to be some how linked to Lucien LaCroix or to Janette in some form or another. He'd ask Nick and Schanke about it when he got into Toronto. After Richard got to the airport he gave the cabbie a fifty < Hey I have $3,500 with me. Why shouldn't I splurge a little>, told him to keep the change and asked the driver to carry his suitcase for him, telling him that he'd get an extra hundred dollars for his trouble. The driver carried Richard's luggage to the baggage clerk who checked his suitcase and the larger of the two bags while directing him to the ticket center. He went to the ticket clerk who told him that he had an hour to wait before his plane left. "Good" he thought, "Just enough time to do some shopping." He went to the nearest book store, bought the latest issues of Starlog and all three issues of the Babylon comic and left. He then stopped at the candy store where he bought a 1/4 pound of white chocolate and some chocolate covered peanuts for the ride. After playing the new Doctor Who Pinball game for about a half an hour, he went to the gate just in time to catch the plane that would take him to Toronto. After several hours the plane landed in Toronto. Richard got his luggage and waited for his ride to show up. He had told them in advance when he would be landing and where he would wait for them so it was just a matter of time... ************************************************************* Imprisoned by Sandra Gray Nick felt the young woman behind him slipping. He turned and steadied her. "Sorry," he said with a smile. She smiled back. He opened the cell block door for her and waited while she went out through it. Then Nick turned back to the holding cell. He walked close to the bars and said, "Well, at least we've got the real murderer this time." LaCroix scowled. "You will see that I am released from here," he said in a low voice. Nick crossed his arms. "Why?" he asked. "The Enforcers will not take lightly the imprisonment of a vampire." His voice was still low, but vibrated with his anger. Nick responded in a dangerous, low tone of his own, "The Enforcers wouldn't take lightly your attempts to frame a vampire for Stonetree's murder, either." "I did no such thing." "Don't bother to lie. You planted Janette's choker at the crime scene. There's no other reason for you to 'pose' as Captain Cross." "Your coroner friend, Ms. Lambert, has *much* more evidence against her than Janette. Why would I try to frame her?" "As an attempt to hurt me. Or perhaps to give me a motive for murder... Jealousy?" LaCroix smiled slightly. "Would you be jealous?" he asked. Nick hesitated, then said, "No. But I have connections to both Nat and Janette. And you've been trying to hint to the Captain that I'm somehow involved in Captain Stonetree's murder." "You are." "I'm not. And you know it. What I don't understand is how you landed in here." "I was framed. And if it was you--" Nick pursed his lips and shook his head. "Not me! I'd like to know who did do it though." He turned away. "Get me out of here!" said LaCroix, his voice rising. Nick turned and glanced around. Then he leaned closer to the bars and said, "I wouldn't dream of it. Get yourself out. And if I were you, I'd do it before you get transferred to a higher security prison... In the daytime." "If that happens, I'll expose you and Janette and--" "And risk the Enforcers' wrath?" LaCroix glared at Nick. "Why bother? You can get out on your own. Of course afterwards you might need to... Disappear." Nick paced in front of the cell, then stopped in front of LaCroix again. "But that was your plan, wasn't it--to make me leave. And Janette. Were we supposed to run to you?" LaCroix glared and reached through the bars to Nick. Nick stepped back and started pacing again. "Don't enjoy yourself too much," said LaCroix. "You don't know all the facts." He lowered his voice to almost a whisper. "I'm not the only one in danger from the Enforcers." ************************************************************* Consultations by Sandra Gray Nick walked through the squad room and, spying Schanke, walked over to him. "I just spoke to... Captain Cross... in the holding cells." Schanke dropped some papers on his desk. "Yeah? What did he say? I heard he only wanted to talk to you." "Ah... Nothing much. Just wanted me to get him out." Nick thought about LaCroix's comment hinting that the Enforcers might be after him. Schanke leaned closer and said in a low voice, "Well, if you ask me, I think they should leave him there. He's been a real pain in the but." "Why was he arrested?" "The Captain came across a copy of Cap'n Stonetree's 'memoirs' on the police computer. You remember--the ones that woman in the Happy Souvlaki Deli mentioned to us. Cross was mentioned--well, under another name--in it. You wouldn't believe what Stonetree wrote he is--a *vampire*." Nick felt a sudden chill. "Go on!" he said after a moment. "The Captain's not taking this seriously, is she? I mean, we've had so many frames in this case already." "Yeah, but there's more. Forensics lifted a print matching one of Cross' off Stonetree's body." Nick ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "What are you doing?" he asked. "Checking into 'Captain Cross'' records," replied Schanke with a sigh. Nick started to walk off. "Hey, where're you goin'?" "To speak with the Captain," Nick said over his shoulder. He strode quickly over to the door of Cohen's office and knocked on it. "Come in," she said. Nick entered the room, closing the door behind him. "Captain, you've had Captain Cross arrested?" "That's right." "Captain, why? What makes you think he's any more guilty than anyone else who's been arrested in this case?" "Stonetree's memoirs mention him, except he isn't called Cross." "Schanke told me about that! How do you know the memoirs haven't been tampered with?" Cohen hesitated, then said, "They were on the police computer." "Isn't that strange? If the Cap'n was writing memoirs that talked at least in part about his experiences on the force, would he want to keep the files on the police computers?" "They're very secure," said Cohen. But she fidgeted nervously with a pencil. "Besides, there's other evidence, or didn't your partner mention it." "The fingerprint, you mean." "I don't understand why you're concerned about this, Knight. Natalie and the other woman have been released." "There's just been too many attempted frames in this case, Captain. Someone's been going to a lot of effort to muddy the waters. What about the reports from Perri Smith about similar murders of police personnel in other cities?" Captain Cohen leaned back in her chair and studied him. "You think there's some conspiracy going on?" "I think it's worth checking out. After all, the Captain's memoirs..." Nick's voice trailed off as he noticed the Captain drop her eyes and start tapping her pencil on the blotter. "What about the Captain's memoirs?" Captain Cohen looked up at him. "There's a second version of them. One in which... You are mentioned instead of... Cross." Nick felt that sudden chill again. "Well, you see? It's another attempt at a frame. And you know *I* didn't kill Captain Stonetree!" Captain Cohen looked at her pencil again and Nick got the distinct impression that she knew something else that she wasn't telling him. Nick decided that it was time to find out what it is. "Captain," he said. She looked up at him and he caught her gaze and her heartbeat. "What else do you know about Stonetree's memoirs?" he asked when he had her in his control and her gaze was blank. "I know how to find out which is the real copy." "How will you find that out?" "I'll ask Captain Stonetree." Nick almost lost his hold on her in his surprise at her statement. But he recovered himself and said, "Stonetree's alive?" "Yes." "Where is he?" "Safe house," replied Cohen. "Then who was killed if it wasn't Stonetree?" "His twin brother, George Stonetree." "Where is Captain Stonetree now?" Captain Cohen gave him the address. Nick ran his hand through his hair. Then he said in a low voice, "Now listen to me carefully. You will not remember any of my questions after I asked you what else you knew about Stonetree's memoirs or any of your answers to those questions. Do you understand?" "Yes, I understand," said Captain Cohen. Nick released his hold on her and she said, "Nothing. I don't know anything else about Stonetree's memoirs other than what I've already told you." She sighed and said, "All right, Knight. We'll check into these other murders Ms. Smith told us about. Maybe there's a connection. But in the meantime, Captain Cross or whoever he is stays in jail." Nick sighed and smiled. "Thanks, Captain." He left the room. So Stonetree was alive! And worse, had written about him being a vampire! Now he understood LaCroix's comment about the Enforcers. He decided he'd better go see Stonetree... Right away! ************************************************************* Speaking With the Dead by Sandra Gray Nick used flight to get to the safe house Captain Cohen had told him Stonetree was staying in. He saw an unmarked police car parked across the street from the dwelling. He flew quickly to the back of the house and crouched down in the shadows on the roof. There were no cars parked in the back. But there could be officers inside. Nick floated down to one of the lighted back upstairs windows and peered inside. A uniformed officer was dozing in a chair in front of the small TV that sat on the dresser in the bedroom. Nick drifted over to another window and saw Stonetree in the upstairs hall heading for the stairs. Nick looked around and dropped down to the ground floor. The back door was locked. He peeked in the window beside it and saw a kitchen and Stonetree raiding the refrigerator. Damn, he'd just have to risk it, he decided. Nick grabbed the knob of the back door and twisted it. The lock gave and he pushed it open. Stonetree looked up in surprise, then reached for his gun. Nick shut the door and said, "You gonna shoot me, Captain?" Stonetree put the gun away. "Wouldn't do much good anyway, would it? What are you doing here, Nick?" Nick grabbed Stonetree and shoved him into a corner away from the doors and windows. "Do you realize how much danger you put yourself and me in with your memoirs?" "You gonna kill me, Nick?" "Do you really think I would?" "No," Stonetree said. "But you realize I have to do something," said Nick. He caught Stonetree's gaze with his own and matched their heartbeats. "Do you have a copy of your memoirs here?" "Yes," Stonetree replied. "You will remove every reference to me being a vampire in them. And then you will forget that you ever suspected me of being a vampire. Is that clear?" "Yes. Remove the vampire references and forget suspecting you of being one." "Captain Cohen is going to either call or come and ask you about your memoirs. You wrote *no* references to vampires in *any* part of your memoirs, do you understand?" "I understand." "You will not remember that I was ever here. You will work on removing the references to me being a vampire in your memoirs after I leave." Nick released Stonetree and disappeared out the back door. He watched through the window as Stonetree shook his head and wandered off. Then he flew up into the night sky. At the station, Schanke spied Nick coming in and said, "Hey, where've you been? I've been looking all over for you." "Around," said Nick. "Yeah, well Cohen's decided to check out that reporter Perri Smith's info. You remember--the other murders like Stonetree's in other cities?" "Yeah?" "So *we* got the job of checking it out," grumbled Schanke. Nick sighed. "Wonderful." Nick ran a hand through his hair and wondered what to do next. ************************************************************* Here, Kitty-Kitty by Tara LJC O'Shea Susan walked into the lobby of the Royal Constellation, her thoughts still spinning from her discussion with Janette at the Raven. At the front desk, a young woman with a tangled mop of short auburn hair in a green silk suit and familiar olive trench coat was checking in. "Tara!" Susan touched LJC's elbow, and was greeted by a sunny smile. "I was just about to ask for your room number, I thought I'd head down to registration, I tried to get out earlier but I was flying on passes on Southwest and had to spend the night in Chicago to change planes--" "Forget the conference." "But that's why I'm here--" Tara picked up her bag, fingering her room key, and they started towards the lifts. "Something big has happened," Susan sighed. "Really big." * * * "Why would anyone kill Stonetree? And a teddy? That's sick." Tara fished a cigarette out of her purse, and fumbled for her lighter. Susan snatched the frail paper cylinder out of her mouth, crushing it and dropping the remains in the plastic wastepaper basket next to the bureau. "You shouldn't smoke those things." "Thanks Mom, I know. But I haven't had one all day, they passed that bloody law, and finding a designated smoking area in the Dallas airport is hell, and Phoenix--" "Tara, you're babbling. Concentrate." "I do *not* babble." Tara pretended annoyance. "Alright, down to business then. Are you sure it's her choker?" "Hers is missing, it has to be." "Why frame Janette? You know she won't allow herself to be prosecuted by some silly mortal court, she'd leave." "Precisely." "So, you think someone wants her to *have* to leave Toronto, and the Raven then? That's pretty hard, you know that club is her life, she's so proud of it. And you and I both know Nick wouldn't want her to go, so that leaves... Oncle, I should imagine." "I'm not sure of anything, but we have to shift the metros focus from Janette to someone else, someone surprising." "And you have someone in mind, I'm sure." "How do you feel about a little freelance Breaking and Entering?" "Not my specialty, but I've always liked a good bit of fun. And I think I know exactly who would make a lovely diversion. What kind of choker was it?" "Velvet ribbon, gold clasp. This is a cop killing, no doubt this case will have top priority, so we don't have much time, my bet is it's probably at forensics right now, they won't be able to pull any prints off it, but fibers... hair, maybe." "Good, then I'll see what I can do. First, a little shopping, and then I pay the division a little visit, and then forensics." "I knew I could count on you." "Nice to know someone can." Tara held up another cig, and made a great show of lighting it and inhaling deeply. "Vile habit." "Ain't it tho?" * * * Schanke, Nick and Nat were sequestered in Cohen's office when Tara arrived at the office. Watching the door very carefully in case someone should suddenly step out and ruin her little intrigue, she made her way to Nick's desk, where a woman's coat was draped over the back of his chair. She saw what she was looking for, and smiled. *Here kitty- kitty,* she smiled as she got what she came for, and slipped out as quietly and unobtrusively as she had come. * * * The choker safely in her pocket, Tara looked about as her heels clicked on the cement steps of the building that housed the forensics lab. She deposited a small pink paper bag bearing the legend Darkangel's Dangerous Liaisons Boutique in a wire trash basket on the curb, and whistled as she hailed a taxi. "The Raven," she leaned back in the vinyl seat and watched the city lights flash by outside her window. * * * "Forensics lab just called, they pulled something off the choker we sent them," Schanke leaned over his desk, and Nick and Nat looked up from their discussion. "Get this: it's a cat hair." "Well, I guess that puts Janette in the clear, she doesn't have a cat." Nat was relieved, though she wasn't sure why, there was no love lost between the two women. "No, she doesn't," Nick rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. There was a long pause. "Hey, why are you guys staring at me?" Nat's eyebrows crept up into her hairline, as Cohen came out of her office, arms crossed, and took in the picture the three of them made. "Doctor, I think we need to talk." ************************************************************* Shell Game by Tara LJC O'Shea Stepping out of the taxi and noting with no small amusement there were Mounties on the note she gave him, LJC pocketed the handful of dollar and other coins and approached the Raven, a smile on her face. Say what you will about the circumstances, it was still nice to visit. "I was wondering when you'd get here," Miklos winked at Tara, who took a seat at the bar, and she let him light her cigarette for her. "Hey Miki, want to have an understanding?" "Perhaps later." "Then a blackberry brandy will have to do me, I don't suppose you have any?" "Gone off screwdrivers and gin'n'tonic, have we?" "You know I like to broaden my horizons every now and again. Is the boss around?" She sipped the purple liquid, happily running the tip of her tongue over her lips in case she missed any of the sweet liqueur. Miklos raised a brow, but said nothing, simply jerking his head toward the office door. * * * "You're over dressed for my club," Janette looked up from her desk, taking in the green suit and leaning back in her chair as a cat would stretch in a patch of sun. "Well, anything too gothic would have stood out at the Forensics Lab, don't you think?" Tara dropped the choker on the desk with a smile, and sat on the edge of the desk while Janette examined the scrap of cloth. "Yes, yes this is mine. I hadn't noticed it was missing, it's been so long..." "Why is that, anyway?" "My dear, I don not follow fashion, I make it. They became much to common." "Well, it doesn't help us any, that means anyone could have lifted that necklace at any time over the past two years." "Non, not that long. I inventoried my jewelry earlier this year, it couldn't have been more than a month at the very most." "I suppose that helps somewhat." "Since when are you a detective?" "Don't get me wrong, I'm not. However, certain abilities I possess, such an aptitude for the less legal and moral acts one can perform on short notice, didn't escape the notice of my fellow Ravens, so I was elected one might say to do what I can in regards to the evidence being collected against you." "What else have you done, besides return my necklace to me to show the police when and if they arrive?" "I paid a little visit to a shop, and a certain doctor's flat, and with Aristotle's help, I think I can make a case that would draw suspicion away from you, and buy us time to find out who really killed Stonetree, and better yet, why." "Aristotle doesn't like mortals." "Well, he's going to have to get over it, if you want to keep your club." "I'll see what I can do." * * * "This is so tiresome," Aristotle sighed dramatically, and Tara frowned. "Oh do shut up and get the job done? You don't have to like me, you just have to do what I say." "Is she always this presumptuous for a mortal?" the vampire looked up and met Janette's eyes, who nodded. "Yes, I am." Tara snapped, and leaned closer to the screen. "What I need you to do is add these charges, at this time and date, so it appears to anyone making a cursory check of Nat's financial records that she made a medium-sized purchase at Darkangel's the day before the murder." "That's too easy, and anyone digging a little deeper would be able to see the fraud in a moment, now if you really want to challenge me, I can even make sure the money gets into the store's accounts and so the purchase was made in fact and not just on paper." "No, you fool, I want the deception to be discovered. I don't want to send the good doctor to jail, for heaven's sake, I just want to buy us time." "You have no imagination." "On the contrary, I thought this took rather a lot of it." Tara turned to Janette, "I placed the customer copy of the receipt, complete with Nat's own signature, in the pocket of a dark wool coat at the rear of her closet. If and when the metros get a warrant, they'll find it." "However did you manage to get her signature?" "People sign things all the time without looking. Put me in a lab coat, colour contacts, and no make-up, and my own mother would blink. Trust me, Nat doesn't remember me too well from the last time we met, she won't make the connection." "Good girl." "I try." "Done," Aristotle pronounced with a flourish,