"Coroner's Office"

"May I speak to Natalie Lambert please?"

"I'm sorry, she's not in the office right now. May I take a message?"

"Sure. Hi, Grace. This is Natalie's friend, Elaine. I think we've spoken before"

"The one from Texas, right."

"That's me. I'm in Toronto for a while, and wanted to let Nat know I was in town."

"Came north of the border to beat the summer heat, huh?"

"Partly. Do you know when she'll be back?"

"She should be back soon. She's at the precinct, discussing the Captain's autopsy."

"Captain Cohen's dead?!?"

"No, its Captain Stonetree. I can't believe you haven't heard. He was murdered."

"Oh, my God. That's awful. Who's investigating it?"

"Detectives Knight and Schanke, and somebody from IA named Cross."

There was that cold shiver up my spine again.

"Hmm. Well, I guess I picked a lousy time to visit, huh? Tell you what Grace. Just let Nat know I'm in town, and tell her I'll drop by the office later, after I'm settled in. Sounds like she'll be in permanent residence there for a while."

"Sure, Elaine. Actually, she's been at the station for an awfully long time, even for her. I hope nothing's wrong."

Another shiver raced through me.

"I'm sure there's nothing to be concerned about, Grace. Maybe she's fitting in some quality time with Nick."

"I certainly hope so. Those two need to wake up and get the ball rolling. Oops, I've just been paged to the lab. I need to go, but I'll be sure Nat gets your message."

"Thanks, Grace. I appreciate it. Take care. Bye-bye."

As I hung up, I realized I had two daunting tasks in front of me. Finding the other NatPackers, and getting out of baggage claim before it was time for me to go home again.

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. "All right, 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."

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, and Tara clapped appropriately.

"Good boy, now I'll take my leave of you." Tara slipped on her trench coat. "I have got to get some rest, I've been here 12 hours and haven't slept a wink yet. Shall I come by tonight? We still need to find out who stole the choker."

"If you say so, my dear. And do stop flirting with Miklos, it's hard for him to keep his mind on the job these days."

"Don't worry, my horizons aren't *that* broad. I'll do my best." She yawned, and let the door to Aristotle's sanctum slam behind her. Altogether too much was happening in a very short time, and she was almost afraid to sleep, lest she miss something important.

"I'm sure." Darkangel handed her the telephone. "We need to keep her there."

"We?"

"Don't worry yourself about it, just make the call."

"Captain!" Schanke held one hand over the receiver, and gestured with the other.

"What is it, Schanke?"

"The girl from the underwear shop is on the phone, you'd better hold onto Ms. DuCharme, she says her boss came back and handed over a special order receipt with Janette's name on it."

"Have Miss Parks brought in, let's see if she can pick out the dragon lady in a line-up, maybe this will actually give us something to go on."

"Yes ma'am," Schanke grinned for the first time that night.

Something was ringing. Tara buried her head under the pillow, but it was too late. She was awake.

"This building better be on fire, or I'm going to kill you, whoever you are," she croaked into the receiver.

"Get up," Susan commanded, and Tara swung her legs over the end of the bed, searching for her shoes.

"I'm up, I'm up. What now?"

"The Brick and company just took Janette downtown."

"And company?"

"Schanke, and LaCroix, who insists he's an IA Captain named Cross."

"I hate my life," Tara dragged a brush through her short hair. "Did they arrest her?"

"No, just brought her in for questioning but I think someone may be up to something. How fast can you get down here?"

"Have a cab meet me downstairs in five minutes or less, I'll be there."

"And Tara?"

"What?"

"Dress for surprises."

"I love surprises. I'll go functional, basic black, I think I can manage that."

Hanging up the phone, Tara sighed dramatically, and then got up to rifle through her suitcase.

Miklos had closed the place up, and only Susan remained, who looked up when Tara entered, in a black turtleneck sweater and stretchpants that disappeared into suede boots.

"Do you approve?"

"Very nice."

"I came up with a plan in the cab."

"I thought you would."

"Miki, can I borrow you?" Tara leaned over the bar, and whispered into his ear, gesturing with her hands absently, and a slow smile spread across his face.

"Yes. Yes, that I can do."

"Then we've no time to waste."

Heather was fishing in her pocket for her keys to lock up the store when a shadow fell across her. She looked up to see a young red-haired woman and Miklos.

"Heather Parks?" "Yes. I'm sorry, we're closing. Can I help you?"

"I believe you can." Tara stepped aside as Miklos caressed the shop-girl's cheek, tilting her head up so her eyes met his, which glowed an intense amber.

"Listen to the sound of my voice..."

"We're sorry for the inconvenience Miss Parks," Schanke shifted from foot to foot, uncertain.

"I've never participated in a--what are they called?--line up before. What do I do?"

"We're just asking you to look at some people, and try to remember if you saw any of them in the store in the past few days." Nick sat on the edge of the table, hands deep in his pockets.

LaCroix stood in the far corner, in shadow, watching the proceedings as one might a play. He had yet to decide if it qualified as a tragedy, or farce.

"Okay. Okay, I think I can do that."

"Good." Nick signalled the cop at the door, who stepped outside, and the light came up in the room on the other side of the one-way mirror, revealing several dark haired women.

Janette squinted in the glare of the fluorescents, and turned to the side, then forward, then the side again as the disembodied voice directed. She hoped Nickola could see her glare from behind that looking glass, she was furious at being forced to partake in such a ridiculous undertaking.

"Now Miss Parks, please concentrate. Have you seen any of these women before?"

"I'm sorry Detective, no. No, none of them are familiar."

Schanke made a face, and the women, including Janette, were led out of the room.

"The receipt is useless, anyone could have placed the order. Without a credit card number, it's just a peice of paper." Nick paced next to his desk. It wasn't like he wanted Janette to be blamed, but it wasn't getting him any closer to finding out who was framing her either.

"We knew the evidence was circumstancial, I don't think we can hold her," Cohen glanced towards Janette, who was pacing in her office, furious.

"Well, I didn't want to bring her in in the first place..."

"It's IA, they're pushing us really hard on this one. I'm working on a warrant to search Ms. DuCharme's club and apartment."

"Is that wise?"

"She has no motive. Right now the only thing we have tying her to this is the special order receipt, which as you say is worthless, since it was paid for in cash, and without any ID or witnesses, we have to go back to that necklace, which you have identified as hers. but if she has her necklace..."

"If she has her necklace we can move on to finding the real killer." Nick glared at LaCroix, who was leaning against the wall, and had the audacity to smile over his cup of coffee (which he obviously wasn't drinking).

Nat appeared, looking none the worse for wear, though she hadn't had time to grieve yet. When they caught the Captain's killer, then she would give herself time to let his death sink in. Until then, it was just another case. She kept repeating that to herself, to keep her sanity.

"Hey, Nat." Nick squeezed her shoulder. "Any news?"

"Not really, we brought the girl who works in the shop in, but she didn't recognise Janette--"

"Oh, big surprise there," Nat sighed.

"Again, we're sorry for the inconvenience, Miss." Schanke led Heather through the crowded squadroom, and she waved his concern away.

"I wish I could help." Heather shook her head, and then grinned when she saw Nat.

"Hey! Long time no see, how did the big night go?"

Um...pardon me?" Nat looked from Heather to Nick, bewildered.

"You know, the candlelight dinner, the wine, the teddy." Heather joked, and then slapped her hand over her mouth as Nat's eyes connected with Nick's. "Ooops, I think I blew it. Well, surprise isn't everything."

"I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about." Nat's tone was icy.

"The other day? You came into the shop, looking for something special. I work at Darkangel's," Heather tried to prompt her. "We talked for, like, ten minutes. I guess you were, um... busy. I just figured, you were so enthusiastic... my mistake then." Heather's cheeks grew pink, and she let Schanke walk her out to her cab.

"What was that all about?" Nat snapped, crossing her arms, and Captain Cohen regarded her curiously when Norma, the dispatcher, tapped her on the shoulder.

"We just received an odd phone call, Captain."

"Odd?"

"Anonymous tip, ma'am. But I don't think you're going to like it." Norma glanced nervously at Nat, who threw her arms up in frustration.

"What is with you guys tonight?"

But the Captain ignored her, intent on the message Norma had taken. "Are you sure?"

"It's worth following up, ma'am. And if it's wrong, then what's the harm done?"

"Doctor Lambert, I need to talk to you in my office."

"WHAT?" Nat's eyes were wide. "Stonetree was my friend, you can't be thinking--"

"Doctor." Cohen waited for the ME to regain some semblance of calm. "Regardless of what I think, IA is breathing down our necks on this one."

"But a warrant to search my apartment?"

"If you have nothing to hide, then there will be nothing to find."

"Okay," Nat sighed in defeat. "Okay, fine. Get it, toss my place, but if a single thing is mishandled--"

"You have my word."

Tara looked like the cat that had swallowed the canary. Miklos handed her a snifter of blackberry brandy.

"How did the call go?"

"Perfectly. By this time tomorrow, Janette will be off the hook, the dear Doctor will be seeing life through a pretty picture frame, and we can concentrate on more important things."

"Cheers," he held up a glass of suspicious dark liquid, and she raised her own glass high.

"Slainte."

"Captain Cross" smiled wryly as the team of police officers let themselves in the front door of Natalie's apartment. Nick and Schanke hovered protectively nearby, ready to make sure nothing on the premises got damaged. It was a good thing it had taken a few hours to obtain a warrant, since this had given him time to gather the things he needed and deposit most of it in place. There was only one thing left to be done, to make the frame complete. He'd been interrupted earlier when Nick had arrived to remove all those little lab notebooks from behind the high school yearbooks in the bookcase. Funny how the slight delay had worked for them both. The smile became more arrogant. Nicholas was finally going to learn how truly fickle these mortals could be.

The entire group was aware that there would be more than the usual trouble if anything had been damaged, so the search proceeded slowly. Nick and Schanke presided with the air of people who think they are wasting their time, so it was comical to watch the disbelief spread across both their faces when one of the detectives, who'd been rooting about the front closet, announced the first find. LaCroix frowned. This wasn't one of his. He sauntered over to the officer... Lieutenant Deborah Charmer, yes, that was her name. She handed him a plastic bag, containing a receipt from Darkangel's Dangerous Liaisons Boutique.

"And where did you find this?" he inquired.

"In the pocket of that coat in the back of the closet." She answered, trying to edge slightly away from him. He marveled at how easily mortals were affected by the threat of someone powerful. This IA captain persona could be a lot of fun. LaCroix showed the bag to Nick and Schanke.

"Hmm, it's beginning to look like the lady does have something to hide," he remarked.

Predictably, Schanke bristled but wisely held himself in check and turned to place a restraining hand on Nick's arm as well, since the latter was looking at LaCroix in a way that had meant the later death for many mortals in the past.

"Don't worry, Nick, it's all circumstantial," he soothed. "It's not like she's got a motive or anything."

Nick didn't respond, he simply continued glaring at LaCroix, until his attention was diverted by the excitement surrounding still another find. This one LaCroix was expecting, so he simply smirked at Nick as the two detectives went to examine this one: Several papers appeared to have recently been burned in the fireplace, but some partially intact pieces had been found at the back. Schanke's took the evidence bags this time.

"Hey, this is Stonetree's handwriting!" His eyes bugged out as he read the fragments, the first of which was nearly intact:

Dear Natalie:

Thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me this evening. We have a lot of details to work out, but I know if we can sit and talk everything will work out just fine. Thanks for being so understanding.

-Joe

I can't begin to tell you how lovely...

... Me so happy. If I can...

Until then, Joe.

Nick actually managed to look paler than usual, and his rage was almost palpable to those in the room. "She's being set up!" he hissed.

"Hey, Nick, maybe we'd best get this down to the precinct, and we can ask Natalie if she knows how they got there," Schanke said brightly, after a considered glance at "Captain Cross." "I'm sure these officers can finish up here OK."

Nick looked like he wanted to protest, but sullenly agreed and allowed Schanke to usher him out to the Caddy.

Deb Charmer looked about the living room of Natalie's apartment. They were almost done in here, it was time to move into the bedroom. In fact, it appeared that Captain Cross had already headed in there. With a weary sigh, she started to follow. She was only a few strides into the room, however, when she froze in place, uncertain what to do. She'd just seen the Captain pull something out of his coat and shove it under the bed. She turned to leave as quickly as possible, but between one blink and the next he'd seen her and somehow gotten between her and the door, which he quietly closed.

"Where were you going to go?" His soft voice sounded very dangerous from this close.

"I was just going to get some more evidence bags..." He didn't believe her. She could tell.

"Hmm... Well, then, by all means, you'd best get going." He opened the door for her, and stood watching as she exited the apartment.

It never occurred to her to mention what she'd seen to the other officers in the room. "If I can just get out to the car, I'll be OK. I can find someone who will know what to do..." she mumbled under her breath. It was quite dark outside when she emerged from the entryway, but she didn't pause to allow her eyes to adjust, she just plowed ahead. Suddenly there was movement ahead of her, a breeze whipped her hair in her face, and a hand gripped her wrist with unshakable force.

"I don't think you really needed evidence bags, do you?" A frighteningly familiar voice purred in her ear.

Deb's temper boiled over. She whirled around as far as his grip on her wrist would allow, feeling a flash of pain shoot up her arm, but not caring. "No, I was going to check on procedure for filing complaints against superiors. You must be hiding something big, Buster. Why on earth would you want to hurt Dr. Lambert? She's one of the nicest people I know! You may be Mr. Powerful Big Shot, but little people like me count too and if we all stand up to you, you're going to find you're up against quite a formidable force!" She had to stop for air at this point, and the look on his face made her gulp nervously.

"Do you really know Natalie Lambert that well? What makes you so certain she's worth all this fuss?" His casual dismissal of the Doctor didn't sit well with Deb.

"Are you trying to stop me? Because you're wasting your breath. I can't be bought. You might as well let me go."

"Oh, I'm not planning to try to talk you out of it. I had something in mind that was far more...appropriate...to the situation."

Suddenly a stray thought intruded on her consciousness. "Hey, how did you get down here so quickly? I ran down, and I didn't hear anyone behind me."

"Yes." was the only word she heard before a shooting pain in her neck announced that it was all over...

"Say, look at this!" Officer Beth Kramer had been poking underneath the bed, and now she held up her prize. It was a man's hat. A very familiar man's hat, to those who'd known Joe Stonetree. She shook her head. "From what I hear, he wasn't wearing it when he was found..." The dirty glares she got were too much. "Sorry, just stress, I suppose..." she mumbled. "Where's Deb with those evidence bags?"

"I don't know," Bill returned, shrugging. "She's been gone an awfully long time! Maybe I should go hurry her up." He disappeared out the door, only to come back with a puzzled expression on his face. "She's not out there. I checked with dispatch, they didn't hear anything from her about going anywhere. She's just disappeared!"

"Ms. McCroy?" Schanke asked.

"McCrory, actually," the young woman said, correcting Schanke. "Selma McCrory."

"I'm Detective Schanke, this is my partner, Detective Knight."

The young woman nodded. "Pleased to meet you both."

"So, Ms. McCrory," Schanke said. "You said you have some evidence concerning Captain Stonetree's murder."

"I saw something," Selma responded. "I thought the police might want to know."

"Yes," Knight responded. "If you'll come this way?"

Selma nodded and followed the detectives.

"So, you were also staying at the hotel where he was murdered."

"Yes, I was. I was at the writer's conference because I'm an aspiring science-fiction writer, and because it was a good cover for meeting with Joe."

"You were on a first-name basis with the deceased?"

The young woman gave him an odd look. "Of course. We're cousins. Relatively close."

"All right," Knight said. "You were meeting with Stonetree. Why?"

"He'd hired me to do some investigating on some murders of police officials that had been happening lately. It wasn't official, just for his peace of mind."

"So," Schanke said. "Did you cause peace of mind?"

"Unfortunately, no. I wasn't able to find anything that was helpful. And I was worried, because one of our own police officials in Vancouver, where I live, was murdered too."

"What did you find out?" Knight asked.

"I can give you what I found out for Joe," the young woman said. She put the black case that she had been carrying up on the table and unzipped it, revealing a laptop computer. "Just a sec, and I'll copy the files for you. If I don't kill File Manager first."

The two detectives watched as she withdrew a floppy from the case, turned on the machine, and copied the files onto the floppy. "There. That's everything that I gave Joe," she said, handing Schanke the floppy.

"So, this was why you came," Knight said.

"No, actually, it's what happened after that I wanted to report."

"What did happen?" Schanke asked.

"Well, after I finished briefing Joe, I escorted him down to the lobby to see him off. That was about 10:00 or so. He was about to go out, and then this person came up to him and they went towards the elevators together.

"The person, man I should say, was about my height. Short for a man. Short, straight dark hair. I didn't see eye color. I heard his voice. High for a male, but I've heard higher. Kind of low for a female. He was wearing a navy suit and tie. That's the last I saw of Joe."

"You didn't follow?" Schanke asked.

"He flashed me a sign that everything was okay. I thought he was talking with one of his informants, so I went back to my own room."

"And then?" Knight asked the woman.

"And then I went back to my own room to do some things, and then I went out to eat. After that, I found out Joe was--dead."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

They questioned her a bit further, then let her go.

Schanke said thoughtfully, "Ten O'clock. The time of death was Ten-thirty, right?"

Knight nodded. "Which makes Ms. McCrory either the last person or the next to last known to see him alive. We'll have to see if anyone else in the lobby remembers the three."

"I'm heading back to the hotel. Coming?"

"Coming."

"What did they say?"

"He confirms Ms. McCrory's story that Stonetree went down with her and up with someone else. A man."

"Good."

"I'd say," Schanke said, smiling, "that we get Ms. McCrory to give us a description of that person."

Knight nodded. "I'll call her."

Grace was wandering around the station, hoping to find something that would prove her friend's innocence. After all, the replacement coroner didn't need her for a few hours and maybe she'd be able to come up with someone.

Nick was with a young woman and one of the police sketch artists. The woman was evidently finishing a description of someone for one of Nick's cases. Grace wandered over casually, hoping to talk to Nick about the case.

"Good evening, Grace," Nick said absentmindedly at the young woman looked at the sketch and nodded.

"Yes, that's the person," the young woman said.

Grace casually looked over at the sketch and gasped.

"What is it, Grace?" Nick asked.

"I've seen this person before. At the office. In the lab."

"What was he doing?" Nick asked.

"She, Detective. She was handing Natalie something to sign, a small piece of paper. I thought she was one of the new lab techs, that she was working with the evidence."

"Have you seen her since?"

"No."

"We'll check it out, Grace. If this person is responsible for framing Nat or killing Stonetree, we'll find him. Or her."

"Thank you, Detective. I'll keep my eyes out, just in case."

"Thank you, Grace."

"You're welcome," she said, and headed off.

"It's simple, I just want you to undo what was done."

"I do not enjoy being ordered about by someone I would usually refer to as lunch."

"Oh, do shut up. If I had to listen to what passes for wit with you for centuries, I'd gladly give up my life."

"Impertinent chit," the vampire muttered beneath his breath as he once again accessed Natalie Lambert's credit records.

"Pompous berk," Tara said beneath her voice, and closed the door behind her. One job down, but the list was long, and she was running out of time.

"Detective Knight? There's a Miss Kaye for you on line three."

"Tara?" Nick was surprised to hear from her.

"I need something from you."

"Now what?"

"Who ID'd me?"

"You know I can't tell you that."

"Look, you know I wasn't involved in the murder, I have to know. I think I know who framed me, but I have to know for sure before I can do anything."

"Everyone is framing everyone else, this case is really starting to get to me."

"Get to you?" Tara's eyebrows disappeared into her bangs. "I'm the one who ended up behind bars, remember?"

"And Nat."

"And Nat. But I'm trying to fix that."

"Ah, yes. How could I forget? You fix everything in the end."

"This is far from over."

"You are one odd girl."

"Tell me her name, Detective."

"McCrory, Selma McCrory. Promise me you won't do anything foolish, anything un-fixable."

"You have my word."

*click*

Janette looked bored, but appearances weren't everything. She just hated to admit to Tara that she too was interested in discovering the truth. She liked to pretend she was above all this mortal foolishness of courts, and laws, and frame upon frame.

But she had been mocked by this entire affair, and that was a slight that would not be ignored.

The hotel staff looked up as the two women entered, one in jeans and a sweater, the other in a long cloak over what appeared to be some kind of costume. They were getting used to weird goings on, what with murders and all.

"Pardon me, could tell me which is Selma McCrory's room please?" Tara leaned forward, smiling sweetly.

Selma was wary when she heard the knock at her door, and peered through the peephole before undoing the chain. Outside her door stood an attractive dark haired woman in some kind of cloak.

"May I help you?"

"I certainly hope so," Tara stepped into view, and Selma's eyes went wide as she recognized the woman she had described so carefully for the police the night before. She wanted to scream, but the willowy dark-haired woman had a hand over her mouth in an instant, and Tara quickly stepped inside and shut the hotel room door.

"Please don't scream, we're not here to hurt you."

Selma nodded, and Janette released her.

"You're the woman I saw with Joe! You killed him, didn't you!" Selma hissed, and Tara held up her hand.

"I didn't arrive in Toronto until after Stonetree was dead, someone tampered with your memories, we're just here to find out who."

"Tampered...? That's not possible."

"Oh, I think you know it is." Janette circled Selma carefully. "Do you like being used, Ms. McCrory?"

"Of course not."

"Then wouldn't you like to know if you had been?"

"I... I suppose so. How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"Someone tried to frame me for murder on the strength of your description. I have my suspicions, but I need proof, I need to be positive before I can do anything else. And you are the only person who can help me find that proof. Please." Tara's dark eyes pleaded with her.

Selma sat down on the end of the bed, running a hand through her hair. Her every instinct was screaming this was the woman she saw get into the lift with Joe, and yet what she was saying sounded like the truth. It could be the truth...

What if it was? That would mean that the real killer was still out there, free.

"How does this work?" She looked up at Tara and Janette, who visibly relaxed. Janette sat down next to her, and lifted her chin so that she was staring into her eyes, couldn't look away.

"Listen to the sound of my voice..."

"I was sitting in my room at the hotel studying the program book and the latest sheet of alterations incurred mainly by Cousin Joe's death. There was a knock on the door, and I got up to open it, figuring that Hilary had forgotten my key once again. Framed in the doorway was a tall man in a leather trench coat. 'May I help you?' I asked, thinking perhaps that he was lost, or selling something.

"'Actually,' he said, strolling past me into the room, 'We can help each other, Miss McCrory.'

"'Who are you?' I said, and made defiant eye contact with the stranger. That was a mistake.

"Suddenly, all that I could hear was the stranger's voice, giving me instructions. Then he was gone... And I had a sudden urge to go to the police station and tell them about the man woman? that I had seen in the lift with Joe. I gathered up my laptop and left."

"And that's all you remember?" Janette prompted, and Selma nodded. She broke eye contact, and Selma shook herself, as if waking from a dream.

"Oh my god," she whispered.

"It's okay," Tara crouched next to her. "He's used us all."

"And he will pay," Janette said, unchaining the door, and Tara got up to go.

"Are you going to be all right?"

"Yeah. It's just a shock, I guess." Selma watched them go, and quickly pulled herself together. This changed everything.

"I knew it!" Tara clenched and unclenched her fists. "LaCroix did it all. I could kill him."

"Could you?"

"Well I could give it a damn good try at this point," Tara watched Toronto speed by as they headed back to the Raven.

"Careful, cherie."

"I was careful for too long. All it got me was a day in jail."

"Better than the morgue, non?"

"Maybe. At least with Himself in jail, I have some time to do a little damage without being caught."