|M| {The Demi-Divine Detectives of Old Dunaway Street} |1x1| Alura x Bluemoon |

[Alura]

"Mm. Mm. Mm. Mm-mm. Mm. Mm." Feet skidding left and right by turns, Nikola Celsus swayed through the small kitchen of the empty office. Gliding on sock-clad feet, she bumped a hip against the laminate countertop to stop herself and dropped a spoon into her coffee with a liquid plunk and a clink against the bottom of the ceramic mug. With an aggressive stir or three, she tilted back her head and sang:

"Every little swallow, every chick-a-dee! Every little bird in the tall oak tree. The wise old owl, the big black crow, flappin' their wings singing go bird go! Rockin' Robin! Tweet Tweedle-lee-dee!"

Humming around the spoon she popped into her mouth, she quickly pulled it out as the hot metal scalded her tongue. Scowling at it, she tossed the spoon carelessly in the sink. The minor clatter it made was lost below the music blaring in her ears. She continued to dance as the tune changed and pulsed through the headset that rested over her dyed-dark hair. Her nearly white-blonde lashes and brows were also tinted a deep brown to match. A dusting of muted freckles fell over her winter pale nose, eyes at curious odds with each other as she gazed out into the pre-dawn dimness below the offices of The Old Dunaway Street Detective Agency. One of the private investigator's eyes was a seaglass green that seemed to shift with the low light. The other was a motley mixture of amber and dark brown limning the outer iris, something quite like tiger's eye. Regardless of colour, they both regarded the Alberton night as though something would come out of the silence beneath the flickering street lamp. That thing really needed some repair.

Old Dunaway Street was delineated from Dunaway Street where it ran perpendicular to Main Street at a T-intersection that really did form the main drag of the city - or what masqueraded for a city. Old Dunaway was a little run down, out of favour with the commercial and entertainment options that were popular on its newer counterpart. Alberton still felt like a city in name only, though their incorporated town had blossomed from just under six thousand residents to nearly twenty-five thousand in less than two years when their neighboring metropolis, Bonheur, had struck a deal with the megacorporation Lancelight. By that reckoning their new status was earned. The tax incentives had been attractive enough to win out the bid to bring the company to the area, and they had wasted no time in breaking ground almost before the ink was dry. Now, amidst rumours of police and city official corruption, the corporation loomed over the Bonheur both in reputation and in actuality in the physical form of the towering headquarters it had built for itself in the heart of the financial district. The rumours were natural, if unfounded. Crime had increased in both Bonheur and the bedroom community that Alberton had become, but Nike felt that was just a matter of course when the population boomed the way it had. Lancelight had brought jobs, but along with that came the vices that its slew of professionals required. If you asked her, though, there was little indication that they were directly involved in anything untoward. The night was unchanged when she pulled her thoughts from her musings, and she sighed. Might as well make herself useful.

Skirting the little sitting area for client interviews by the bank of windows that overlooked the street, Nike moved back towards the wall that held the front door to the right, the little kitchen and adjoining washroom in the center, and the alcove and left wall of the room that they had screened off to serve as proper offices. Dodging around the screens, Nike cut a spin as she arrived at her desk. The inquiry agent bit her lip with an internal reprimand as the contents of her cup nearly sloshed out onto a stack of evidentiary boxes piled against one wall. Setting her coffee aside, she ran a hand along the name written in bold letters along the front.

SUTTER, DAVID

It was a strange case end-to-end, and when the handsome young trust fund baby had shown up at their door two days before he was arrested on suspicion of murder, asking them for help looking into the untimely death of his ex-girlfriend, neither of the partners had hesitated to take the case. Sure, one might think it was also due to the fact that business was slow to start and it would be nice to move to actual "offices" as opposed to one large room where the two nearly walked over each other in their daily work. Still, she thought, lips curving faintly, she'd not trade a day of it to work with anyone else doing anything else. One thing the spate of crime brought on by the population boom was not, was bad for business. They were on track to really make a go of things if things kept on as they had - and this client could make their business not just off of his commission, but off of the recommendations someone like him could give to equally wealthy silver-spoons. Assuming he was innocent, that is.

Pushing the lid off of the corrugated file box, she tucked her hair behind her ear. It fell forward again immediately. Blowing it out of the way ineffectually, she walked her fingers along the first two files before sliding out the dossiers on all of the members of the Rencart family. Setting them on her desk, she tugged out the accompanying information on their staff and business associates. They'd need to consider all of them, but with a flick of the cover and a smirk, she set the file for their employer on her partner's desk thinking, 'You're welcome'. He'd seemed to like her, easily smiling whenever he had spoken with her. Cupid didn't need her help, but it never hurt to help him sight a good match.

Thumping her toned frame into her chair, she pushed back the sleeve of her black suit jacket and checked the time. Still a while yet before the work day began properly, but something had kept her awake. Insomniac by nature, her itchy brain was hard to scratch, but work definitely helped. She buried herself in it when she couldn't sleep, whether it was sourcing a new client or pouring over case files. She might not be as personable as her partner, but she did her diligence just the same. Somewhere through the photocopying and highlighting, the shuffling of the pile of boxes and opening of files until the office looked as though it had exploded in a paper storm, the first rays of daylight pierced her concentration. When she looked from the window again, the street below was changing from grey to colour in the yellow-blue haze of dawn. Yawning, she checked her watch again. Her partner would be arriving within the hour. Glancing back over her shoulder, she surveyed the trashed office.

"She's going to kill you, Nike."

Stretching and taking a swig of cold coffee which she also promptly spat back into the mug with a grimace, she set a fresh pot on to percolate while she washed and put away the spoon and mug. That done, she set about organising the files into something of a more orderly colony of piles well behind the screens that blocked off their desks from the rest of the office. The cheap cork board they used to keep track of suspects and cases hung along the wall in front of the desks they had placed in an L shape between the alcove and the screened off open area. A table laden with additional evidence boxes from closed cases yet to be destroyed or cleared away heaped towards the ceiling and nearly blocked out the light from the window overlooking the Old Dunaway. It wasn't that it was a problem to spread out her research, only that with limited space and a small open office there wasn't room to spread things everywhere and also meet with new and existing clients in a way that was at least approaching professional. When she was satisfied she had remedied the mess her midnight oil burning had created, she stifled a yawn on the back of her hand and pulled off her headset, surprised at the sound of rain beating against the windows. The sun was still visible, but it was almost as if someone had ripped open the lining of the sunny morning and allowed buckets of heavy rain to pour from it all across the city.

"Weird." Shivering at the sudden chill she felt, she switched on the space heater in the little kitchen and poured herself a fresh cup of coffee. It warmed her hands and soothed her sleep-deprived mind. Some might consider her something of a gym rat, but she found that the routine kept her disciplined and a gym was a good place to work out the mind on the stickier angles of a case while exercising the body. She had a feeling about this one. It could really do a lot for them, but from what she had read there were a lot of gaps in the narrative. For a moment she allowed the rumours about Lancelight to bleed into her thoughts, but shoved them away as nonsense. No reason to let idle panic sink in just because one of their corporate high-ups was in a personal crisis.

Sipping her coffee, she promised herself time to sweat through any lingering misgivings at the first opportunity.

[bluemoon]

Flora slipped from her Prius’ seat out into the steady rain, tilting her head back to catch a few drops of the precious liquid on her tongue...so sweet and tangy. A smile on her painted pink lips, she gave the vehicle a cursory glance, pleased to note it was parked near perfect in the middle of the space marked out by the city. Nikola would be so proud, she thought sarcastically, knowing the naturally fair-haired woman did not share her anal retentiveness. Giggling, she reached into the back of the car, rifling through her recent purchases and taking out a few items, one of which was a lime green umbrella. With a firm press and push on the handle, the shiny fabric fanned out and created a canopy designed for one. A touch of disappointment fell over her as she ducked under, her skin missing the moisture as soon as it was blocked...but it was important to blend in.

The young woman, in appearance at least, made her way to the old brick building, her white sneakers in bright contrast to the dark skirt that fell nearly to her knees. Dark grey, it was well worn, but neatly pressed. A pale blue blouse was loosely tucked into it, the thin fabric made nearly transparent from the rain, a problem that would be remedied soon enough. As she got nearer, it became obvious her partner was already in, the light from the windows a beacon to any that bothered to glance up from their busy day.

She walked up the three steps which led to a small stoop...and a windowed door...that boasted Celsus and Faren, Private Eyes, in bold black letters. It never failed to bring a smile to her lips, the playful tone a mix of both of their personalities. The shared space had been her home away from home for a few years now, the decor both modern and antiquated...as in old, moldering, and in need of replacement.

“Honey, I’m home,” she called brightly as she turned the handle and entered the office, the scent of freshly brewed coffee tingling her senses. It was something she could always rely on from her friend...a warm and cozy reception. After a thorough one-handed shake that sent water in every direction, her umbrella found its place in a vase placed by the door. Her navy low-heeled shoes falling in next--to be worn when it came time for clients to arrive.

“I have surprises,” she said, her hands moving behind her as she turned to face Nike. “First and foremost...muffins!” She held the unmarked white box up like it was the rarest of gifts, the purple string around it the trademark of the Blue Ribbon Bakery on the next street over (she stopped trying to puzzle that one out years ago). “...and before you complain about your figure...I got the refined wheat one for you that tastes like cardboard. Then there’s blueberry...chocolate (her brows went up and waggled with a mischievous smile)...and banana nut.”

The box was set carefully on Nike’s desk before she brought forth her other hand. “...and this is Oliver...a new fern just for you...to replace the last one. He’s a bit hardier and tolerates less care. He even promised not to judge when you lose your temper.” Laughing lightly she set the plant on the shelf that spanned the wall, positioning it over a ring of water staining that had been left by the previous occupant.

“Now what do you say to breakfast and some of that delicious coffee you made? I never seem to find time at the apartment to eat before I come...and I am starved! Onward to the dining hall!” Not missing a beat she picked up the simply adorned box and made her way to the kitchenette. She flashed another smile before she set the table for two, a stray strand of wavy brown hair pushed behind her ear in an irritated manner. Falling a little past her shoulders, the tresses seemed to have a mind of their own when she was excited, coiling and moving in a random pattern that never failed to fascinate. The medusa effect, she called it, feeling at times her hair would one day strangle her in her sleep.

Once a steaming cup of coffee was set on the table, she sat down and nearly purred in contentment. “Oh...I forgot to mention. My dad invited us to dinner tomorrow night...if you are interested in his famous Shrimp on the Barbie...spelled B-A-R-B-I-E. I swear that is what he texted. He said seven sharp...and bring wine. I’m going...and I saved the passenger seat in my blue baby just for you.”

[Alura]

Pouring a second cup of coffee quickly as she heard the door to the agency open, Nikola smiled at the familiar shuffle of Flora's arrival.

"Yes, Dahhhhling!" Nike purred dramatically in her best '50's housewife impression, sliding around the corner from the little kitchen to offer the coffee prepared just the way Flora liked it. Batting her lashes, the impression of domestic propriety was a little ruined, perhaps, by the gym socks still peeking from below the hem of her pressed black dress slacks. Heaven knew she didn't press them, but it was worth the extra dry-cleaning cost to look presentable.

As the other woman turned towards her with her hands suspiciously dipping behind her back, Nike tipped up her chin and narrowed her eyes, voice rising an octave curiously. "Surprises? What surprises?"

She tried to crane over the other woman's shoulder to sneak a peek. When Flora produced the muffins, she bounced on the balls of her feet, careful not to spill the coffee as her free hand lifted into the air triumphantly.

"Blue Ribbon! Ahhh, you're trying to turn me into a muffin." She wailed as she trailed behind Flora back across the room and rested their beverages on the edge of her desk. "Thank you, this is perfect. That's my favourite kind of cardboard."

Her eyes lit up as Flora produced the fern, hands making grabbing motions as he was placed into her hands. "Oliverrr! I love him!" She stroked a finger along the curling bud of a frond not yet unfurled, sliding a guilty look over to Flora at the mention of his predecessor.

"I really did water her, Flora! She was just dramatic! I have no idea where she inherited that trait. It was only one night. Fine, a weekend. I may have forgotten to give my neighbor the house key again on our last out-of-town case." She grew more sheepish the more she spoke.

"Anyway! This will be different, Oliver! You're going to live a long and happy, very green life! With me and my incredibly sweet and docile temperament." She batted her lashes as if that might actually sway the opinion of the plant. Her stomach growled and she threw Flora an exaggerated starved look at the promise of breakfast.

"I haven't eaten in at least three hours. I may dry up like a neglected houseplant myself soon without sustenance."

Striding to the window, she arranged Oliver atop one of the stacks of evidence boxes, pausing a moment to look out into the street once more, fingertips pressed to the glass as the rivulets of rain shifted along with the morning sunbeams. Something still niggled at the back of her brain despite the contrasted beauty, but she exhaled slowly before scooping up their mugs and trotting off to the kitchenette also.

"Yes, please! And... if you don't think you will eat all of the chocolate before it goes off, I suppose I could have a little piece of it. To keep it from going to waste, you know." She plunked down their steaming coffees and tapped her stomach, admiring the table arrangement in the rundown kitchenette. Somehow, despite their limited budgets and the antique building as Flora called it, her partner always managed to make a place feel lived in and warm. The large potted plants that dotted the space divided without making it seem too crowded, and the interior decoration fared far better under her watchful eyes than it ever would have done left to Nike alone. And that wasn't even considering the work she had done to make their little stoop on the interior of the open-air building presentable for clients.

Depositing herself unceremoniously into one of the cheap dining chairs and picking a nail under the coating at the table's edge absently, Nikola regarded the woman who looked like she'd bathed in the rain, despite the lime umbrella tipped into the vase at the door.

"I thought you might drown with it pouring down out. Sure you don't want a towel?"

Though she asked, she knew the answer already. Flora rarely had an issue with inclement weather in Alberton of any stripe.

"Well, well, Madame Medusa, I am in fact very interested in Papa Gorgon's Shrimp Barbie. Is the shrimp sold separately, or did it come with the Barbie?" She pinched a stray blueberry up and prodded it between her smirking lips with a thumb. "Wine, can do! I'll be ready for the good ship Prius at seven. Has he ever actually started an event at a 'sharp' time?"

Furrowing her brow, she grinned, slipping her cool fingers around the warmth of her coffee as she teased the other woman.

[bluemoon]

Flora laughed softly, shaking her head and sending water droplets across the tablet in a fine mist. “I’ll dry off in no time...why waste a perfectly clean towel?” With a wink she took out the chocolate muffin, cutting it in half and pushing Nike’s portion her way. “I was hoping I could tempt you with this one...nothing like some caffeine and sugar to start the morning.” She bit into her half with gusto, never one to eat daintily just because it was expected of her.

“As for Papa Gorgon,” she said, giggling while crumbs fell from her lips “...I am sure he bought them both in an all inclusive kit. He is never one to waste steps.” She took a few sips of her steaming coffee and leaned back, kicking her feet up on the chair opposite while regarding Nike. “As for the sharpness of the time, I would recommend you keep an eye on the clock. I will be at your flat at 6:45 on the nose and with traffic we should get to his house with plenty of time to help him set the table. Be sure to bring your appetite...he likes to have his guests leave full.”

Rubbing her belly for emphasis, Flo picked up the last piece of her muffin and popped it in her mouth. “I saw you put the Sutter file on my desk. I swear you can read my mind sometimes.” Offering a smile, she leaned forward and handed her partner a key which she extracted from her skirt’s pocket. “I want to go over some details before we head out to the murder site this afternoon,” she said as way of explanation. “I got an inside tip that the area will be vacant from three to five...and if we are careful and don’t leave behind any fingerprints we should be golden.”

Without saying anything more, her hazel eyes turned on the mess she had made, her hand cupping to make a receptacle for the crumbs as she swept them off the table. A quick trip to the waste basket was her only detour before she wove her way around the small office and plopped herself down at her desk. Opening the file for the impending murder case, she narrowed her gaze and began flipping through the pages.

[Alura]

Grinning at Flora and lifting a hand to fend off stray water droplets with a laugh, Nike accepted her half of the decadent muffin with an excited bounce in her seat. One bite and she closed her eyes, leaning back to savour it.

"Mm! Woman, tempt me all you want." She waggled her brows flirtatiously and giggled also. She rolled her eyes faintly when Flora insisted that the time be exact. "I'll be on time, I'm always on time. Most of the time. When there's food involved, I'm always on time."

Batting her lashes at the mention of the Sutter file, Nike smiled, opening her mouth to speak before Flora produced a key. Arching a brow, she accepted it and turned it over in her fingers.

"What's this, then?"

"Ooooh, fast legwork! You've really been busy, haven't you? That's brilliant! How did you manage that?"

Despite her protests of turning into a muffin, Nikola reached into the box while Flora was turned away depositing the crumbs she had tidied and took a big bite of the cardboard muffin. Chewing thoughtfully, she cleared away the table and even cleaned the dishes before snagging a bottle of water and headed into their office proper to see how far into the case files her partner had managed to get.

After a swig of water, Nikola flipped her hair to shake it out before whipping it up dramatically and straightening her blazer and scooping up the files she had been reading at her desk as if she were giving a presentation to an FBI task force. Snapping open dark shades appropriate to a daytime television rendition of forensics or detective work, she struck a pose by the evidence boards.

"So I'm sure that you're wondering why I've gathered you all here today." Canting her head to the side, she lowered her shades a bit. "Not now, Detective Oliver. It's time we told them what we know about the case."

Sliding the frames back up her nose with a finger; she looked back to Flora with a quick double brow-waggle.

"Sutter, David: the accused and our employer. Handsome. Rich. Very, very single." She paused longer than necessary and gave her partner a dramatic look. "Comes from good stock. Two loving parents, only son. Heir apparent to the Sutter fortune. Attractive. Well-mannered. Well-dressed. Accused by the legal team representing the Harrow family of involvement in the murder of their daughter, Melody Rencart. Attractive."

Pinning his photograph to their makeshift profile board, she snagged a second picture and shuffled the pile of dossiers for the related names onto her partner's desk, mouthing the word 'attractive' one more time for good measure before pushing up her dark shades again.

"Melody Rencart: Victim. Maiden name Harrow. Former lover of Sutter and newlywed wife to Harold Rencart. Found strangled in the couple's bedroom."

She tacked up the photo of a beautiful, smiling, well-coiffed young woman on the arm of the well known business magnate Harold Rencart. Tapping the man in the suit, Nike continued:

"Harold Rencart, also a suspect in the case, is a member of the Rencart family currently headed by Ari Rencart, one of the most prominent financiers in Bonheur and beyond. The family is old money with interests in a broad range of enterprises. Melody Rencart was found murdered in the newlywed couples' penthouse in centre city three weeks ago and our boy Sutter has been accused of committing the crime. The reasons are a little sparse still, so our first priority should probably be getting a handle on what the police already know or suspect. Maybe having a look at the scene today will give us a lead. Sutter told us that they found a phone call on Harold's phone telling Rencart that Sutter would kill him for what he'd done. Sutter says Rencart had threatened him earlier the same week of the murder, but Rencart alleges it was an unprovoked death threat in a chain of antagonistic behaviour stemming from Sutter's jealousy of Melody's new relationship.

"Harold Rencart has been tight-lipped since the incident and his initial statement to police, but he didn't attend the funeral and hasn't been seen much since. Sutter seemed to feel that this was due to the influence of Rencart's father."

Shuffling up a clearer shot of Harold beside his late bride, she also added a photograph of his father, Ari Rencart, along with one each of his mother and his two sisters.

"The rest of the Rencarts are not suspects at this time, and strangely outside of the D.A.'s criminal prosecution, the civil suit being brought is by Melody's biological parents, the Harrows."

Adding two files to those already on her partner's desk, Nike also tacked up a picture of a severe man and a WASP-y woman both in crisp business attire.

"Corbin and Anna Harrow were a power couple in their prime and still formidable. They are both from prominent families in Bonheur and were key in the negotiations that brought Lancelight to the area two years ago. They have two children, but their son Corbin Jr. has been AWOL for nearly two decades with no contact to the family. Melody was effectively an only child, and her death has been hard on the family. They seem to believe Harold Rencart's claims about David Sutter and blame him for the murder - they've even publicly said as much to reporters. It's unclear exactly why they feel this way, but Anna Harrow's cousin also happens to be Andrew Vescoe, the Chief of Police in Bonheur. For obvious reasons, Sutter worries that between the press attention and alleged nepotistic influence on the police investigation, he's done for without private intervention. That's where we come into the picture. Ostensibly we're looking for evidence to dismiss the civil suit, but anything we find to help prove his innocence can hopefully also help in the criminal prosecution."

Scratching the side of her nose, she canted her head left and right a moment as if trying to decide whether to add more before deciding in the affirmative and pinning up five more photos of three men and two women.

"There are handful of other players not under investigation at the moment as far as we know, but let's put them on the board just in case.

"Harold's housekeeper, Cecily McNamara, was the one to find the victim at the scene. The emergency call was placed to the Bonheur P.D. around 8 P.M. The rest of the details that we know are in the police report included in evidence."

She slapped a thicker blue file alongside the others, bad photocopies and crime scene photographs packed inside it.

"Harold's grandmother - Ari's mother - was the first family member to arrive on the scene. It's not really clear why or how she gained access to the house, but presumably the staff was familiar with her and allowed her inside. It's not clear exactly when she arrived on-site, but the maid said there were four people on-site at the time of the contact with emergency dispatch, which should've covered Melody Rencart and the on-site staff. Presumably that means the eldest Mrs. Rencart arrived some time between the discovery of the body and police arrival. Interviewing the staff should give us better insight into the exact timeline that night.

"Next is Terrence Jackson. He's the driver for the Rencarts and has been employed with the family since Harold was a teenager. He was downstairs with the live-in chef and one of our other faces, James Findlay according to the report.

"This last one may be a bit of a stretch, but it was a little strange. For some reason, police questioned a business associate of both David Sutter and Harold Rencart named Vo Nguyen Binh. Binh doesn't seem to have any involvement with the case, and the report doesn't really mention why he was questioned so that's really all there is on that for now."

She took a deep breath and stretched out her arms above her head until her back popped, yawning.

"Well, what do you think? Do you want me to run you through the timeline of what we think we have so far, or would you rather wait until we see the crime scene today? We might make a start on interviewing the day after tomorrow if we can catch some of them. Also, don't forget that we have lunch at one tomorrow with that woman from the Food World on Rupert and Pine. She's insisting she's being robbed at night, but she also says her cameras aren't picking anything up... I think she just has rats, but it couldn't hurt to listen to her. Money's money and there's no telling how long the Harrow v. Sutter case will be rolling around in litigation. Should be plenty of time to do some digging and also help the crazy grocery store owner if we want."

[bluemoon]

Flora had barely managed to hint at her father’s involvement with the acquisition of the key before Nike started in on her ‘presentation’. Setting down the Sutter file and neatly rearranging the papers so they were all tucked inside, the woman looked up with interest. This was Nicola’s specialty...putting the bits and pieces together in a coherent way...all by memory...then setting up the timeline. She really had no idea how the younger woman did it, Flora had too many things floating around in her head to create an outline of events. That was what paper was for...too bad it had to be made from trees.

Kicking off her shoes and putting her bare feet up on her desk, she narrowed her eyes to look at the first photo that was pinned to the board. Sutter...David. Her partner was always trying to fix her up, as if she needed a man in her life to be complete. Letting out an amused snort, she pointed out the fact that Mr. Handsome was also behind bars...perhaps a bit shady for a first date sort of thing. Her finger then went to her lips to show she was going to be quiet...and attentive...her arms crossing over her chest as she became absorbed in the line-up her partner was creating.

Barely noticing the files Nike added to her desk, Flora began ticking off the suspects in her head, making her own sort of mental connection.

--Sutter, David--perhaps a set-up
--Renhart, Harold--jealous husband
--Renhart, Ari--angry father protecting his son’s reputation by removing the cheating daughter-in-law. Of course his hands would not be dirty. Possible hired hit. Check flow of money.

Nodding along with Nike’s suggestion to question Harold’s staff, Flora wrote their names on a Post-it with a big question mark next to each suspect. She wondered idly if any of the Harrows or Renharts would talk to her. She doubted it, especially if they had any idea she was working for the accused. A scoff followed, then she added the grandmother’s name anyhow...just in case...then scribbled in Vo Nguyen Binh. Hopefully that would be it...her and Nike would have their days taken up for a while with the list...and digging through any evidence they might find that the police didn’t. ...and she was certain they would find something. The two of them were a fine team. Flora’s specialty falling in the area of finding traces of plant material or anything not organic...such as chemical taints in the blood. How she did it was a bit disgusting, but it worked, their success rate at solving cases proof of that. The down side being how long it took to get the taste out of her mouth.

Laughing to herself, she lifted her head up, meeting the gaze of her friend. “I would love the timeline love,” she responded when Nike pulled her out of her mental ramblings by posing a question her way. She was already putting it together, but hearing it aloud was always a bonus.

“Oh yeah,” she said when reminded about the lunch date. “I think that one is actually on my calendar...on my phone. I should get the reminder about ten minutes before the arrival time.” She chuckled, once again making fun of her phone’s inadequate system. One day she would buy a new one...like all the teenagers were carrying these days. An Apple...XVI...or whatever.

“I think that sounds like a good idea for tomorrow...lunch...some digging...maybe a quick trip to the grocery store to check things out and do a little shopping for our wine? My dad loves white wine...Pinot Noir...but I might grab a bottle of red too. Can never have too many spirits.”

With the suspects categorized and their pictures put on the board, Flora got up to get herself another cup of coffee...and a muffin...before the next delivery of information started. “Can I get you anything Nike? Another muffin perhaps?” Her laughter carried down the short hall as she trod into the kitchen, her bare feet making a soft scuffing noise as she walked. She looked down, deciding she could use another coat of the pink nail polish on her toes, maybe her fingers too. She wanted to look her best when she did the interviews. You never knew what a person would notice when you were sitting next to them. A shorter skirt...lower cut blouse...and open-toed heels. At least for the men. It would be quite the opposite for the women. She wanted to come across as sympathetic, not sexual, so two outfits would be needed for tomorrow. Then a night of casual wear...jeans and a t-shirt should suit her dad fine...the old hippy was all about comfort. If nothing else, she at least had that to look forward to. It was a great way to wrap up the week.

[Alura]

Having not missed a beat at Flora's doubtful tone regarding their employer, she just smirked to herself.

Mr. Handsome, eh? Well, noticing is the first step, Flora dear. I'll match you yet!

"Spoil sport." She murmured under her breath, rolling her eyes at the woman elevating her bare feet above her desk.

Waving her hand impatiently as Flora refocused her eyes on her, Nike grinned.

"Thinking about Mr. Handsome again, are you, now?" She turned to collect another file from her desk before glancing back to add: "And before you say it again, yes, he is behind bars currently. In the grand scheme of things, though, that's really more of a molehill than a mountain. I mean, it seems unlikely that he is a brutal, homicidal murderer. Those are clearly not the cheekbones of a murderer. I have a sense about these things, Flora darling. I could tell if he were out cutting people with something more than that razor-sharp bone structure. Beside, someone has to interview him anyrate and you know how finicky they are about letting more than one person in at a time. It should really be you. I think I'm going to be very busy that day precisely, as it happens, the time that interview needs to take place. Whenever that is. In future, when we schedule it."

Clicking her tongue, Nike spun on her heel and pranced back to her desk to scoop up a pale blue file and sashay back to the evidence board. Shaking her head at Flora's crack about her dinosaur of a phone, Nike made a strangled sound. It was really impressive that Flora managed to navigate the world with such a disregard for technology. It was, the dark-haired woman admitted, rather a refreshingly pure trait when she really considered it though... Flora was a breed apart, and it was a beautiful aspect of her nature.

"Oooh, I do like the way you multi-task. We can do something Alsatian, perhaps a bit of Schwarzriesling along with the Pinot Noir. Let's invite the whole galley of ghosts. Yo-ho, and a bottle of rum! Maybe not the rum. Unless your father is also a pirate?"

Shaking her head with a laugh, she blew out a breath. "Back to business, though... I am very much looking forward to getting our mitts - and our boots - onto the property."

"Mmm, well, I really shouldn't, but I suppose if you need help eating one of those muffins I could just eat a small piece. And just a spot of coffee."

Trailing after the other woman with cup in hand, she finally latched onto some of Flora's news from earlier in the day. The timeline could wait a bit. There was always time for prying, after all...

"How did you come to get the key to the murder house, Flora? Was it scandalous? Do you have an illicit lover now? Gasp. Is it the butler?!" She ate a stray blueberry from the muffin box without taking her eyes off her lovely partner in crime.

[bluemoon]

Laughing softly, Flora shook her head as Nike joined her in the kitchen. “There will be no more talk of Mr. Sutter,” she said, wrinkling up her nose in mock disgust. “He is not my type and you know it. I prefer a man who is more down to earth, not some high falootin rich boy with a murder wrap under his belt. I will conduct the interview if you insist, but that’s where my involvement stops.” Smiling and giving a wink to her partner, she grabbed up the coffee pot and poured two cups, depositing the box of treats back on the table.

“I just wish he wasn’t so handsome,” she added in a hushed tone, her gaze lifting to meet Nike’s. “I think you're pushing your will on me. Aren’t you?” Sighing and rolling her eyes, she bit her lip and clicked her tongue. “Well...maybe just one date…”

Giggling to herself, Flora reached inside the box and cut the blueberry muffin in half, bringing her portion over to her side of the table. “Tomorrow, I am going to bring you a container of berries...blue to be exact...since you can't seem to resist...and a big salad. We’ll go healthy to make up for my dad’s cooking later. I swear he soaks everything in seasoned oils just to put pounds on our hips.” Although gaining weight had never been a problem for her, she knew Nike attacked the gym like Flora did food, her high metabolism keeping her trim despite her appetite. One would think she would have the energy to boot, but it was Nike that reigned in that department.

Folding her legs up onto the chair, Flora bit into her snack with relish, taking a sip of coffee and wiping her hands on a napkin before she gave Nike her attention again. “Ah yes...the key. I wish I could say it was something exciting, but alas, it was just a favor returned. I’ve told you my dad used to work for the police department...right? He and Billy, his old partner in crime...who is also my godfather by the way...used to work homicide together...they were tight. The never ending back-yard barbecues and football games...you know the type. Well, he was the one who slipped dad the key and the entry code. I mean, my dad asked him of course, after I whined that our richest client just got slapped in handcuffs and carted off to jail. Dad said he was owed a favor...and told me to hold my breath.”

Laughing, Flora pushed her hair out of her face, grimacing at the way one of the strands curled around her finger. Shaking it loose, she grinned at Nike. “How do you think I get those license plates ID’d...and the names we run through the system? Ol’ Billy...that’s how. I mean, we could skirt the system and get the info, but with my godfather’s badge number, I can get it lickity split. I just have to keep it to a minimum or flags will be raised...at least that’s what he says. So...I don’t push it...because I see him too often to avoid being chastised.”

Taking out her phone, she opened up her pictures and flipped through a few before turning the screen towards Nike. “Here are a few pix from the crime site...mostly stuff you saw on the news, but also a couple extra. Billy took shots of the whole scene when the police first arrived. Like how the body was placed in relation to the things around it. He thought it might be helpful.”

[Alura]

Batting her lashes in a way that indicated she planned to ignore the ban on conversations about Flora's future acquitted beau, she winked back.

"We can't all have dreamy, strapping Legends of the Fall ranchers fighting over us, babe." Her eyes followed the bakery box. "Besides, where would you even find one in this city? We've gone properly industrial, I'm afraid." Settling her hip on the edge of the table, she accepted her cup thankfully and breathed in the bitter joy of caffeine.

A grin broke out on her face as Flora accused her of being pushy. It was not the first or the last time she would hear that complaint, but she did it out of love. With a half-squealed coo, she bumped her shoulder into the other woman's. "That's my girl! Just buy him a flannel shirt and you're halfway to your ideal man."

One of the many things that her partner could be counted upon for were the delicious plant foods she showered their humble offices with routinely. Blueberries were some of her favourites. "Oooo, we can have smoothies along with our salads." She let out a pained sigh, "I love your father already, but just the idea is packing on those pounds."

She knew full well that she'd also eat her on the night. If he was anything like his daughter, Flora's father would have them all stuffed to the gills before they went on their way. She did envy her partner's easily maintained figure, but it also allowed her a companion in such crimes as polishing off a box of Blue Ribbon Bakery muffins or downing a pint of ice cream while watching B-rated thriller films on occasion.

Squirreling a quarter of her share of the muffin into her mouth, Nike listened raptly to the tale of the key's acquisition. It was disappointingly short, if more exciting than she downplayed it.

"I had no idea you were moving up in the world in such a way, Flora. Police connections, detectives at that. Eyes on the mean city streets. You'll be an ace detective before I can blink, or the governor!" She furrowed her brow. "Have I met Billy? I vaguely remember you mentioning him, but can't even recall what he looks like."

Her mouth moved into a surprised 'Oh' at the realisation that Flora had been leveraging her professional contacts already for their ID and license plate checks. "Full of tricks, you. Have to watch you every minute! That is exciting! I can't believe you actually managed to get the key handed to us! That's brilliant! That saves us so much time. We're sure to outpace those manipulative silver spoons at this rate. And their crooked lawyers."

She had no actual proof that the lawyers were crooked, but the forked reputation of the wealthy families involved was well enough known.

"You have pictures also! On your phone?" She took the offered device to scroll through them, glancing up at Flora in surprise. "Who are you, even? Pictures? On your phone? I'm so proud right now." She paused and enlarged one of the bedroom where the murder was committed. "Wow. What is that?" She leaned towards the other detective with her nail pointed at a slightly crooked painting on one wall, the edge of something dark barely visible along the frame. "Mm, maybe just bad lighting." She squinted.

"These are so great. We should print them and put them on the board, don't you think?" Drowning another big bite of muffin with steaming black coffee, she milled over the impressive start they were already making today.

[bluemoon]

Flora never grew tired of Nicola’s dramatics and her flair for taking something mundane and making it amusing. The idea of Mr. Sutter in flannel was hilarious. She laughed as she dug into the rest of her snack and drank her now warm coffee.

“Billy?” she repeated. “Oh, I’m sure he’s been to this office at least once or twice. He isn’t the type who keeps your interest for long though...he really is a bore.” She yawned dramatically and winked. “Let’s see if I can help jog your memory.” She scratched at her head, then put her finger up. “Ah yes...the last time he was here was just last month. He came in to fix the faulty heater. He was wearing these ridiculous overalls and a baseball cap. He’s got that soldier vibe going...crew cut...scowl...pretty fit for an old guy.” She laughed. “I think he called you Nike...like the shoe...and probably on purpose. He seems to think he has a great sense of humor. Come to think of it, outside of the short haircut, he and my dad are a lot alike.” Wiggling her brows in the way she often did when she was teasing, she leaned over and punched her partner in the arm. “I could fix you two up...he loves muffins and coffee.”

Her face becoming a bit more serious, Flora shook her head at the mention of the key. “Don’t be thinking it was my doing that got us that key. That was my dad...one hundred percent...which is why I couldn’t even consider saying no to the dinner invite. Of course his shrimp is out of this world too, which helps.”

Scooting her chair around, she leaned into Nicola so they could look at the images together. “Billy sent me those pictures in an email...I just transferred them over to my pix before I got here this morning. I’ve been hoping to get a chance to really study them, but I never did notice that dark spot. We definitely should enlarge them...make two copies of each...so we can take one with us this afternoon...we have about two hours until we need to head out. Afterwards, we’ll just head home...since I plan on spending all the time we have available to us looking for clues.”

Getting up, she took care of her dirty cup and closed the bakery box. “I’ll leave my phone with you. I’m just going to look over the files a bit more until we need to go play detectives for real. I’ll get the fingerprint kit and evidence baggies together...plus those little tweezers and some gloves. Can you think of anything else we should bring? ...other than our phones, of course, for more pictures.” Ruffling Nike’s hair, she scooted back to her desk and plopped back down, her feet resuming their place on top as she pulled a file into her lap and opened it.