Nick watched Selma work with the sketch artist, his mind only on half the job, he was still trying to fathom all the frames that were popping up around them. He looked up as Grace approached.

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

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

Grace casually looked over at the sketch and gasped.

"What is it, Grace?" Nick asked.

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

"What was he doing?" Nick asked.

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

Alarmed, Nick looked down at the sketch for the first time, and hid his surprise. It was the girl he had just spoken to at The Raven, Tara. But that's impossible... He quickly covered his shock, and casually asked "Have you seen her since?"

"No."

"We'll check it out, Grace. If this person is responsible for framing Nat or killing Stonetree, we'll find him. Or her." He tried to sound convincing, but he wanted to dash out of there, and question the girl again. She couldn't have been lying to him... She certainly didn't seem capable of murder. But weren't killers liars too?

"Thank you, Detective. I'll keep my eyes out, just in case." Grace smiled, and he tried to match it, squeezing her hand.

"Thank you, Grace." He knew Grace was just concerned about Nat, as was he.

"You're welcome," she said, and headed off. He watched her go, and then looked down at Selma.

"You're sure this is the woman?"

"I only saw her for a second, but yes, I think so."

"You saw her?" he looked deep into her eyes, and could hear her heart beating beneath the normal noise of the station around then. She blinked slowly, suddenly caught up in the sound of his voice, the world around them forgotten.

"Yes."

"Do you know who she is?"

"No."

He released her, and she shook her head, blinking rapidly. "Thank you Ms. McCrory, if we need you for anything further, may we call you?"

"Yes, certainly. Of course, I want to find out who killed Joe just as much as you do."

Nick came *this* close to breaking the speed limit as he headed back to the Raven, but dawn was approaching, he couldn't risk being stopped, not before he did what he had come to do.

"Nichola, what a surprise, I thought your business with us was done," Janette looked up from her desk as he entered her office.

"When did Tara arrive in Toronto?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Someone just ID'd her from a sketch down at the station, said she saw her getting into an elevator with Joe Stonetree the night he was killed."

"That's preposterous, Tara wasn't even here yet. And besides, she didn't even know the man. Obviously this witness of yours was lying."

"You know she couldn't lie to me, Janette. Where's the girl?"

"Upstairs, in my flat."

"I need to talk to her."

"Cher, she hasn't slept in days, why not at least let her rest a little while?"

"There's no time. If she was with him, that makes her the last person to see him alive, and possibly a killer."

"And if she wasn't?"

"Then someone is trying to frame your girl."

"She is not *my girl*."

"In any case, I have to talk to her before this sketch goes out over the wire."

"Fine, go see her, wake her up, see if I care. I warn you, however, Miklos will be very angry if anything happens to her."

"What?"

"They have an understanding."

"Half the female population of Toronto has an 'understanding' with your bartender," Nick muttered beneath his breath, and started up the stairs to the apartment above the club.

Tara shifted on the couch, uneasily, and the figure watching her looked up at the sound of feet. As Nick entered the flat, the figure slipped out the window, and disappeared.

Nick bent down and touched Tara's shoulder gently, trying to wake her. She sighed, a frown creasing her features, and then her eyes flickered open.

"I thought you never did anything that couldn't be fixed," he said as she sat up, self-consciously pulling the bathrobe tighter around her, and blinking the sleep from her eyes.

"What now, Detective?" she said, wearily, and looked up at him with guileless eyes.

"Someone saw you get into the elevator at the Royal Constellation with Stonetree the night he was killed."

"That's impossible, I wasn't here, I was in Chicago, I can prove it." She headed towards the bedroom, and he followed her. She held up her clothes.

"Do you mind?"

He allowed her to step into the changing room, leaving the door open a crack so she could still hear him.

"Do you have any proof?"

"My airline ticket, hotel receipts from the Hyatt Regency out by O'Hare, I guess. I didn't check into the Constellation until after the body was found."

"That won't prove you weren't in Toronto, you could have come in early, stayed in another hotel under an assumed name, you have more than enough of them."

"Ha ha, very funny," she exited, once again in her black turtleneck, pants and boots. "Are you bringing me in, then?"

"No, not yet. But we need to get to the hotel and get those records, they're desperate for a suspect, someone must be setting you up."

"Great, one frame for another." He opened the door for her, and she stepped through, and they headed down the stairs. Miklos looked up from the bar as they went past.

"I'll be back," Tara said, as much to convince herself as the vampire, who simply glared at Nick as he counted out the drawer.

"They were here!" Tara updumped her suitcase on the bed, tossing clothes left right and centre as she looked for the travel agency envelope with all her receipts and tickets. "I'm not *this* scatterbrained, I wouldn't have lost my ticket. For crissakes, my passport was in there, I wouldn't lose that."

"Calm down," Nick placed his hands on her shoulders, but she knocked them away.

"*You* calm down, I'm the one being framed here."

"Now you know how Nat feels."

"Low blow."

"Come on, they could have fallen out of your bag when you checked in, maybe someone turned them in at the desk."

"At least let me change," she held up a pair of jeans and a sweater.

Nick rolled his eyes heavenwards, what the hell was wrong with what she had on? Eight hundred years, and he still didn't understand women.

"I'm sorry miss, no one has turned anything in," the desk clerk looked appropriately apologetic, and Tara's shoulders slumped.

"This can't be happening," she said softly, and Nick laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Knight! Good work, you found her," Schanke headed across the lobby, a patrolman and LaCroix in tow, and Nick could feel Tara's shoulders tighten beneath his hand. She looked at him with fear in her eyes.

"Miss, I'm afraid you'll have to come with us." Schanke's tone was anything but polite.

"Are you arresting me, Detective?" Tara addressed Nick, ignoring the mortal detective for a moment.

"No," he replied hastily.

"We just want to ask you a few questions," LaCroix said, stepping in front of Schanke and taking her by the arm. Tara's eyes lit up with hatred, and he smiled as he led her out to the car. She glanced back at Nick over her shoulder, frightened, but he was staring at the back of LaCroix's head, his fists clenched at his sides.

"C'mon, partner, one last thing to do before shift ends. Capt'n'll be pleased, it's about time we finally got a suspect in this case."

"Yeah," Nick looked down at his shoes, feeling helpless. He quelched it quickly, and set off across the lobby towards the glass doors to the street with a renewed look of determination as he saw the back of Tara's head through the rear window of the squad car. It was bowed, and he could only wonder what was going through her mind as the squad car pulled away from the curb and headed downtown.

Nick got into the Caddy, revving up the engine, and almost pulled away before he noticed Schanke standing at the passenger door, waiting for him to unlock his door. He reached across and pulled up the lock, and Schanke jumped in, slamming the door.

"Not bad for a night's work, eh?'

"This one doesn't feel right, Schank." Nick pulled away from the hotel, hands clutching the steering wheel til his knuckles were white.

Natalie picked up her mail on the way to her apartment. There was a small package as well as the usual collection of bills and junk mail.

She tossed the mail on the table and took off her coat. When she turned around, Sidney was nosing the small package across the table, making eager mrrowing noises at her. She took the package away from him and frowned. It was addressed to *Sidney* Lambert.

Sidney put both front paws on her forearm and nosed the package. His miaows became more demanding.

Nat opened the padded envelope and upended it. A flat tin, about four inches by six, slid out onto her palm. It had a Lesley Anne Ivory cat on the lid. She stepped away from Sidney's insistent prodding and pried it open.

It resisted, then snapped up suddenly, releasing a shower of small, fragrant green leaves.

Sidney, rrowling ecstatically, jumped to the floor and began rubbing his face in the scattered catnip.

There was a small white envelope half buried in the catnip- filled tin. Nat pulled it out, and opened it. A white cat adorned the front of the card.

And it was blank. Again.

Miklos hung up the phone and met Janette's eyes from across the bar.

"What has our little corbie gotten herself into now?"

"Someone framed her."

"What a novel idea. How?"

"Her airline tickets and hotel receipts were stolen."

"Well, then you'd best go talk to Aristotle, Larry Merlin is... Busy. And we can't let one of our own go to jail, now can we?"

Tara sank onto her bed, noticing absently that her hands were shaking.

"Ms. Kaye, I presume?" Nat got up and walked towards the row of bars that separated them. She remembered her now, not as the lab coated intern, but a hazy memory of a girl in a black dress, quietly smoking in a bar in New York, watching everything. Her hair had been brown then, but the eyes, the face, was the same.

"My name's Tara."

"I'd say I'm pleased to meet you, but I'm not entirely sure what the proper greeting is to the person who framed you and had you thrown in jail."

"I never meant it to go that far. It wouldn't have gotten that far, but someone else decided framing you was a good idea, and did a much better job of it than I had." Tara was earnest, she really did want Nat to believe her, not just because it was the truth, but because she really did like the Doctor.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Doctor, I swear it was nothing personal. I needed a diversion, something to draw suspicion away from Janette, give us time to try and find out who wanted her framed for Stonetree's murder."

"And you decided I made a good diversion?"

"Well, you did! No one would ever believe you killed him, you had no motive."

"Someone made sure I did."

"It wasn't me. I know you have no reason to believe me, but it's the truth."

"So, what are you in for?"

"Det. Cross thought a night, pardon me, day, in jail might loosen my tongue."

"And he excepts you to say... What?"

"That I killed Joe."

"Did you?"

"No!" Tara snapped. "I didn't get here until the body had been found, Susan told me about it, I never even saw him, I'd never even met him..."

"Then they can't hold you."

"Sure they can, all my proof conveniently disappeared."

"You have no motive, either."

"I think someone is going to make sure I do, that's what scares me. I like being two steps ahead of everyone, and suddenly, I'm the one out of the loop."

"Oh, this is not good," Aristotle murmured, tapping away furiously. Miklos leaned against the table, arms crossed.

"What?"

"Someone has done a very nice job of making it look like the bossy little--"

"Careful."

"--girl arrived the day before the murder. Here, look at this," he pointed to the screen, "she flew stand-by, someone broke into the airline computers and changed her dates."

"Can you change them back?"

"Of course," Aristotle scoffed, and began tapping away again. "It's difficult, security is tight, but no one can keep me out if I want to get in."

"You amaze me."

"I'm quite amazing," he sent the job to the printer, and handed the printout to the bartender. "There you are, nice and official looking. I'll print her out a new ticket, and have it delivered to the club. We wouldn't want her to be stranded here, now would we?"

Tara balled up her sweater to use as a pillow, and curled up in a ball on the less than welcoming bed. She had slept for about eight hours, she wasn't sure, they had taken her watch. In any case, the last four hours had been pretty uneventful, except that she knew with each passing moment that she must be getting closer to sunset. "I'd sell my soul for a cigarette right about now."

"Really?" A voice drawled from the hallway, and LaCroix stepped into sight.

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's 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," Nick held up the photo of the first letter, "was legit. He was asking her about a case."

"And this one?"

"Stonetree did send it 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.

"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.

Elaine sat in her office reading over Sharon and Jennie's report of their investigation. She looked at them from across her desk. "Let me get this straight. Someone hypnotized the salesgirl at Darkangel's to say that Natalie had bought all this stuff, but really it was a dark-haired man and a very pale short-haired tall guy?"

"That's what she said." said Sharon.

"And I'm supposed to believe this?"

"If you'd seen her faint like we did, you'd believe it too." said Jennie.

"OK, I trust your opinion, but how am I supposed to get the police to believe it?"

"By showing them this affidavit that she signed, retracting all her previous testimony. They have to take it," answered Sharon.

"Really? Glad you're here. Procedure is a little different where I'm from. OK, but that just takes care of the more direct evidence. There's still some circumstantial evidence we have to deal with, like those notes in the fireplace. Do you have any ideas?"

"Well," said Sharon, "I did some more digging about that sword shaped pin we found in that police officer's body, and it turns out that a lot of people saw that IA officer Capt. Cross wearing one just like it."

"When did you find this out?!" exclaimed Jennie.

"When you were back at the office typing up the report."

"You told me you were going to pick up some lunch."

"I did, I just did this too."

"But that's not..."

"Ladies, Please!" Elaine interjected. "You can hash this one out later. So Sharon, what you're saying is that you think Capt. Cross killed Amy Hull. And he did this because...?"

"Because during the search of Natalie's apartment she found something that would either clear her, implicate him, or both."

"You think he killed Capt. Stonetree?!? Why would he do that?"

"Don't ask me," said Sharon. "That's the Crown Prosecutor's job."

"True. All I needed to do was provide a way to clear Natalie, and thanks to you two, I can do just that. Thanks a lot guys. You did good. This calls for a celebration. Know any good places we could go tonight. I figure I owe you each at least a drink. Probably dinner."

"There's a fun karaoke bar in town called the Tiki Room," suggested Jennie.

"OK, just don't make me sing. I care too much for my fellow man to do that," said Elaine.

"No promises." said Jennie.

"I'll meet you guys there at eightish, OK. Right now I have to go talk to Capt. Cohen about getting my client out of jail. See you then." With that, she breezed out of the office.

Jennie turned to Sharon, her eyes dark with anger. "Now about this solo stunt you pulled."

Police Headquarters. Capt. Cohen's office.

"So you see Captain, it's possible that Capt. Cross planted those paper fragments in Dr. Lambert's fireplace. He had every opportunity. Hell, searching her apartment was his idea. And with the affidavit from the salesgirl at Darkangel's you don't have any reason to suspect her, much less to lock her up."

"All right, Ms. Polemenakos, you've made your point. I'll have her released immediately," said Capt. Cohen.

"An apology would be nice too."

"Don't press your luck, Ms. Polemenakos." She turned to the beaming Nick and Schanke. "Wipe that grin off your face Schanke. You too Knight. I'm not happy that a private investigator did your job for you. Ms. Polemenakos, I'll have someone escort you down to lockup to get Dr. Lambert."

"Captain, I'd like to go down there too," said Nick.

"Oh, no, Knight. You and Schanke are going to pick up Captain Cross. NOW."

In Lockup

"Thank God I'm out of there," said Nat. You wouldn't believe the food. And I had the strangest girl in there with me. What do we do now?"

"About three hours of paperwork." said Elaine.

"Oh, joy!"

"And after that we'll go out. I'm meeting Sharon and Jennie at the Tiki Room around eight, if you'd like to come with me."

"How about I meet you there. I've got a cat who's going to feel very neglected if I don't get home. I shudder to think what the drapes look like."

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.

LaCroix had not spoken to her since he'd been brought in, but she could feel him watching her. Natalie had spent a few moments during the shuffle of Tara being released thinking about how to start a conversation with him. She had to be careful. It would look suspicious if she *didn't* talk to him, that in and of itself giving away her secret. Fooling Nick about what and how much she remembered from Valentine's Day had been almost too easy. Fooling LaCroix on the same score was another matter entirely.

Finally all was quiet and Natalie dared to meet his eyes as he looked at her through the bars of the other holding cell, fully expecting to feel the same sense of pressing invasion she'd experienced in Azure's. Surprisingly, there was none. Calm icy blue eyes met hers, but the challenge was openly apparent. She stepped forward, wrapping one hand around one of the thick bars.

"I never expected to find you here, Captain Cross," she said truthfully. *This* situation in particular was going to put Nick in a horrible position, especially if LaCroix *had* killed Stonetree.

One eyebrow rose in amusement. "I could say the same thing about you, Ms. Lambert."

Natalie gave a small laugh. "What's a nice girl like me doing in a place like this," she said.

"Something like that." Then his expression turned serious. "Tell me, did you kill Captain Stonetree?" His gaze intensified and she caught herself almost too late.

"No. Did you?" She was rather proud that her voice was steady and even. it was frightening to think that he still had some power over her even though she was prepared. Well, she amended to herself, at least more prepared than last time.

"Oh, come now, Ms. Lambert. You can tell me," he said, his voice becoming soft, coaxing, almost droning. "You want to confess everything. You killed him. It was a crime of passion."

Natalie swallowed, and raised her eyebrows but continued to meet his gaze. It was probably a mistake but his arrogance and what he was trying to do to her were beginning to infuriate her. "What I find interesting," she said conversationally, "is that *you* were the one who found his hat in my apartment. How fortunate for you. Especially since I have no idea how it got there." She glared at him purposefully.

Several seconds of silence followed as a wicked smile spread across his face. Natalie felt his mental assault intensify and realized that the choice was hers. She could stand here and attempt to stare him down.

And lose.

She blinked.

And turned away, moving over to the bunk and picking up the paperback copy of "Interview With the Vampire."

She heard him laugh softly to himself before he stretched out on the bunk in his cell, clasping his hands across his chest. And when she glanced over at him and saw the slight, knowing smile on his face, she knew that he was well aware of the racing of her heart.

Staring at the page before her, pretending to read, Natalie wondered if this had really ended in the draw it appeared to be or if she'd tipped more of her hand than she'd intended.

Natalie Lambert sat at the precinct, wearily filling out forms. She could hear Schanke and Nick talking about LaCroix... Oops, Captain Cross, in the next room. If only she could get these forms finished, she could get out of here... Her eyes drooped, and she laid her head down on one arm, just for a second...

Nat grabbed her medical bag and went out through the front door. She got into her car and drove downtown. She went through several alleys and back roads, stopping several times to make sure that she wasn't being followed. Finally, she pulled up into a well lit parking area about a block from George's hotel, the Royal Astor. She knew that George would have probably wanted to give Stonetree something important--and if he knew that he might be in danger that George would have hidden whatever it was that he had wanted to give Stonetree.

After making sure that she wasn't being followed (again) she went up to the hotel desk and asked which room that George had been staying in and used her police ID to get a pass key from the desk clerk. Good thing he was only a kid, Nat thought. She went up to George's room door, unlocked it, opened it and went inside. She got her flashlight out of her bag and started to look around the room.

An hour later showed her no better off than when she had started. There was still no sign of anything that George might have brought with him to give to Stonetree. She had looked everywhere, too. Under chairs, under cushions, on chair bottoms, in and under drawers, and just about anywhere else she could think of. She was just about to leave when a flash of inspiration hit. She went back into the room, opened the small hotel refrigerator and looked for any packages. Sure enough, there was one inside. She carefully removed the package from its hiding place, put it in a plastic bag, and put it in her bag. Then she went back out of the hotel and went back to her car. She went back downtown using some of the same back streets she had used on the way to the hotel. She parked in her parking space next to the office and went directly to her lab. She put the package on the lab table, opened it and began to read the small book she had found inside.

A few hours later and she was done with the small diary. It had a lot of information in it, especially about the "incident with the swimming pool," but nothing that gave Nat any clues about who might have killed George Stonetree. It also held a lot of the prior history of George, right up until the time that he had decided to try and mend some of the rifts that had grown up between him and his family. She put the book back in her bag and made preparations to leave. Just then, a few police came through the front door of the lab.

"Natalie Lambert?" asked one of the police.

"Yes. Why?" asked Nat.

"You are under arrest for murdering Stonetree." said the policeman.

Nat looked at him in shock.

"You have the right to remain silent..." started the policeman, while the rest of the police began to search the lab.

"Hey, Nat, wake up." Someone was shaking her arm gently. She jerked awake, then sat blinking up into Nick's face.

"Oh, I just felt so tired, Nick. I'm sorry, I couldn't keep my eyes open. Do they put something in the food around here? One taste and you're conked out so you can't cause trouble?" she shook her head. "I'm not sure I'd mind that so much, but the dreams are starting to get to me."

Looking around, she made sure they couldn't be overheard before continuing. "I just dreamt that you hypnotized Cohen and she told you Stonetree was alive and that there were two copies of his memoirs, one talking about LaCroix being a vampire and the other one talking about *you* being one. You even went to the safehouse Stonetree was in and hypnotized *him*."

Nick laughed, "Well, maybe we just need to get you home and get you some rest. Perhaps once this whole matter is laid to rest, the dreams will go away."

"Yeah, you're probably right. The ones I had while I was in jail were all about Stonetree really being alive, too. Must just be the stress. One of them was a quite a nightmare--I woke up just as I was being arrested for his twin brother's murder!"

"Just finish that one last form, and we'll get you home, Nat."

She looked down, only just realizing she *was* on the last one. She bent her head over the paper with a lighter heart.

Police station. Judy Freudenthal sat at Det. Knight's 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.

At the Coroner's Office, Natalie was 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.

Nick walked into the station and Schanke quickly approached him. "C'mon, we've found Aston."

"What? Where is he?"

"They found him down near the lake." Schanke sighed. "Dead."

Nick frowned, then turned and headed back out to his car, Schanke following.

Natalie and forensics were on the scene when they arrived, as was Captain Cohen. Nick approached the Captain. "Has he been murdered?" he asked.

Cohen shook her head. "Natalie says it looks like a suicide. Shot himself."

"What? Where'd he get the gun?" asked Schanke.

Cohen shrugged. "I don't know."

"Did he...leave any kind of note?" asked Nick.

"Yes, he did," said Natalie, approaching them. She held up a clear evidence bag, which Cohen took from her.

"What's it say?" asked Schanke, peering over her shoulder.

"It's a confession, admitting to the murder of Stonetree and Captain Williams in Montreal." She looked at Natalie, who was looking at her strangely. "Except... Except Captain Stonetree isn't dead."

"What?!" asked Schanke. Nick feigned surprise too and glanced at Nat.

"The victim was Captain Stonetree's twin brother, George." She looked from one detective to the other. "I placed him in protective custody until we could find the murderer."

"Why didn't you tell us?" asked Schanke.

"Internal Affairs was involved. I wasn't sure who to trust with the information." She looked uncomfortable.

"It's okay, Captain. We understand... Right, Schank?" said Nick.

"It wasn't something I wanted to do," said Captain Cohen.

"Hey, like Nick said, we understand," said Schanke.

"Well, at least it's all over now," said the Captain. "Captain Stonetree can go home." Then she moved away. Schanke walked over to take a look at the suicide scene.

Nick drew Natalie aside. "You know about Stonetree being alive?"

"Yes. I discovered it during the autopsy," replied Nat in a low voice. "Captain Cohen swore me to secrecy." She paused and then added, "He didn't do it, did he?"

"I doubt it," said Nick.

"Stonetree's memoirs--"

"It's been taken care of." At her dismayed expression, he said, "Don't worry. He's safe."

At that moment, Schanke came up and said, "So when did he buy it?"

Nat looked at him. "Well, the autopsy will be more certain, but I'd say at least twenty-four hours ago."

"Well, I'm glad it's over, but I wish it hadn't ended like this."

"Yeah," said Nick.

After some more time, the body was loaded into an ambulance to be taken to the morgue and Nick and Schanke were again in Nick's car. "What I don't get is why all the frames," said Schanke.

"Who knows? To generate confusion?"

"And why commit suicide?"

"I don't know if we'll ever know that."

"Maybe he didn't commit suicide. Maybe someone murdered him."

"Who?"

"Someone who knew he didn't off Cap'n Stonetree."

"Well, we can check it out, but Nat says it looks like a suicide and there's the note."

"Yeah, well, we'll see what comes out of the autopsy, I guess."

Nick drove on in silence.

When Nick got a free moment, he went off in search of LaCroix, finding him in his radio station. "John Aston," he started.

"You should thank me for taking care of him," said LaCroix.

"You expect me to sit by and let some innocent person take the blame--" said Nick in a low, throbbing voice.

"He was hardly innocent," said LaCroix in a low voice. "He *was* responsible for the death of Captain Williams."

Nick stared at LaCroix, then said, "That's no excuse--"

"But isn't that why you're an officer of the law? To see that those responsible for their crimes pay for them?"

Nick didn't reply.

"I was only trying to protect you from your own folly," continued LaCroix. "You were nearly exposed."

"I could have taken care of that. You took advantage of the situation to try to drive me out of Toronto."

"Yes, well... I can't see why you stay."

"You don't see a lot of things. At any rate, your efforts didn't succeed, did they? I'm staying. And so is Janette." LaCroix glared at him, but said nothing. "You'll pay for trying to kill Stonetree too." Nick then turned to leave.

"Do you think I would have failed if I wanted to kill him?" asked LaCroix.

Nick paused for a moment, then continued out the door.

Something felt weird about this. She was moving. She wasn't supposed to be moving like this while she was asleep... Nat jerked awake again. Nick cradled her in his arms, and was trying to get the door to her apartment building open without disturbing her. Her head rested against his chest, and it was tempting to just close her eyes and stay like that...

But Nick *was* having trouble with the door, so she blinked up at him and said, "I went away again... I'm sorry." She struggled a bit until he set her on her feet, then turned to him, "it was a nice thought, but I'm glad I woke up. I was having more dreams about Stonetree not being dead. It's eerie, how real they seem. I'm even getting names--this time there was a 'John Aston' who had committed the murder. I don't know anyone named John Aston. Can't figure out where I got the name from. It was the twin brother who'd been killed again, too. I think I was watching too many old TV shows last week--they all showed 'evil twin' episodes, so I guess that's how come I've got twins on the brain."

"Shh, it's been a long week. You just need to get some quiet sleep, and you'll be fine," Nick soothed as they headed in to her apartment.

"I know. I'm not upset by the dreams on an intellectual level, it just bothers me that I can't escape this horrible week, even in my sleep." Her voice was already starting to sound sleepy. "Can we watch a movie?"

"You sound like you're ready to go to sleep right now, Nat. You *did* have a busy night, you know. You really sing beautifully."

Nat blushed. "I *did* do that, didn't I? Jennie's awfully persuasive. I had fun, though. Pick a funny old movie, to take my mind off the dreams, OK?"

"OK, Nat." He went over to the video case, and picked out "Bringing Up Baby," flipping it into the VCR and returning to settle on the couch next to Nat as the opening credits played. Nat was asleep by the time the leopard escaped.

Nick watched her sleep for awhile, then quietly got up and turned the TV off, found a blanket to cover her with and made sure she was settled comfortably on the couch. He started out the door, then turned and looked back. Natalie was muttering slightly in her sleep. He hoped these dreams were good ones.

"Yessir, I'll get them delivered right away, Mr. P.," the Gofer promised as she backed out of the producer's trailer. Still sorting through the fistful of memos, script changes, and shooting notes, she turned and headed toward the main sound stage.

As she walked down the backlot "street," a sleek gray cat watched her approach from under one of the shaggy yew bushes that lined the walks. Tuppence needed to figure out where the Fanged One needed her next, and she suspected this human's papers would tell her.

As the girl passed her, Tuppence lashed out with one carefully-timed paw. The girl screeched, and papers went flying everywhere. Tuppence darted out, grabbed one at random, and scurried back to her hiding place. The human examined her scratched ankle, gathered up her papers, and departed, muttering.

Tuppence flattened her find in a sun-dappled spot deep in the bushes and examined it carefully.

-------------------------------------------------------------

TO: Scripting 
FROM: JP 
SUBJECT: Continuity

"Surprise! Surprise! Surprise!" and "Double, Double, We're In 
Trouble" have been rewritten as dream sequences. Please 
cancel all subsequent shoots in this series and re-write 
scripts to reflect this change.

JP

Tuppence hissed, annoyed. This was no help. She'd just have to hope she could find something interesting to do on her own.

She scampered away, toward the sound stages, leaving the memo firmly wedged deep in the yew, where no human would ever find it.