Author's Notes: Arnold, a famous crime novelist is accused of the brutal murder Lila Sawyer. With such negative publicity surrounding his upcoming trial, every lawyer in the city refuses to take the case. Finally, Arnold seeks out the assistance of his one time lover, the toughest defense attorney in the district, Helga G. Pataki. Will she represent her one time paramour? This is my first Hey Arnold story. I really hope that you enjoy this. I just want to say thank you to all of the Hey Arnold writers out there for writing HA fiction. I also want to give a shout out to my favorite HA writers: DarthRoden, BratChild2, Silver Kitten, and Poison Ivory. Anyway this is a story in which the kids are adults, and should be considered a mystery romance. Check out my C2: ID c2/4/0/1

Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold.

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Vanity's Bane

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Chapter One: Reasonable Doubt

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At twenty-eight years old, Zeke Spartan was one of the dumbest criminals that Helga Pataki had ever encountered. He was a blonde haired country bumpkin that was born south of the Mason-Dixon Line. Transplanted from the cornfields of Plains, Georgia the young man managed to make it to Seattle, Washington where he had enjoyed a brief life of crime. Unfortunately, he was neither clever nor discreet in his behavior and he eventually landed himself in the Hillwood City Jail. He was overweight, with a rather large potbelly, and he lacked the majority of his upper teeth. When she first encountered him, his shoes had been scuffed and dirty, and his clothes were dingy. He smelled of urine and beer, but also a mixture of blood and vomit.

Aside from his offensive appearance, he was nevertheless her client. It was her duty to represent the scourge of the city. She sat beside him, thankful that he had at least bathed, and changed clothes. He now sported the typical orange jumpsuit worn by all of the defendants in the courtroom. Sighing softly, Helga wondered why she had agreed to take this particular case. Closing her eyes, Helga gritted her teeth, recalling the numerous favors that her childhood friend, Harold Berman, the now decorated police officer had provided her. Zeke Spartan was a twice removed cousin, but she had owed Harold for a few tips that led to a small number of her courtroom victories, and because of this she had agreed to represent Zeke pro bono.

"Ms. Pataki, how does the defendant plead?"

She opened her eyes, and stared into the harsh face of Judge Melinda Green. Smiling lightly, she stood to her feet, announcing her client's plea.

"The defendant pleads guilty your honor."

Helga announced, pitifully managing to stifle a yawn. These types of open and shut cases took less than fifteen minutes. She got in and she got out. Occasionally however, a know-it-all would try to pull a Perry Mason in the court, and either decides to represent themselves, or worse yet plea not guilty and waste the court's time. In these boring moments, in which she would ponder the inanity of her profession that she would wonder what possessed her to become a defense attorney in the first place. The judge adjourned the court, giving Zeke Spartan the usual sentence for repeat offenders such as himself.

Helga glanced at her client with peripheral vision. He didn't look like much, but she guessed that he would be back on the streets committing more petty crimes within the year. Sighing at the futility of it all, Helga grabbed her bags and things, but not before giving the typical stay-out-of-trouble speech. Zeke took it all in stride, as if he were not really hearing his lawyer at all. She wrapped her large overcoat about her body, grimacing as the bitter cold nipped at her face. If only she could be elsewhere, because anywhere was better than Hillwood in the winter. She lamented her lack of a social life, while remembering that she had meetings all week, with no chance for having dinner with her best friend Phoebe Hyerdahl.

The drive to her apartment was agonizingly slow. It seemed as if everyone had chosen to leave and return to their homes all at once. There was a bright spot in her dreary day however. The slow drive her home gave her time to think about where she was with her life. She had only been practicing law for three years, but she had managed to work her way up in the District Attorney's office. Inside the old, but warm building of Hillwood City's Municipal Court, she was known as the Tiger Lady. As one of Hillwood's best and brightest, no one could currently match up to her legal prowess. Aside from Phoebe, there was no other lawyer that she felt could best her as a defense attorney. Of course, they had both went to the same college, and the same law school, which had been a life saver for both. While Helga had managed to finally coax her best friend out of her shy shell, when they were in law school, the tables had turned, and Phoebe had become the one to always rescue Helga. Helga turned unto her exit ramp, and quickly dialed Phoebe's number. Perhaps if she rushed, they could still make dinner together. The phone rang three times, before a breathless young woman answered the phone.

"Hello?"

Phoebe answered huffily.

"Hey, Pheebs. I was wondering if you still wanted to get together. I'm finally off of work."

Helga stated as she entered her sensible brownstone apartment. All around the floor was a mess of clothes and shoes. She frowned, remembering that she had not cleaned her apartment in a week. Thankfully, today was Thursday, and soon she would have the weekend to relax and get things done at home. Her dogs Charlie, Russell, and Simba raced to her feet, barking happily. After feeding the dogs, she settled down unto the couch, enjoying a warm cup of cocoa. After she finished that, Helga attacked her small bowl of soft serve ice cream, loving the milk chocolate flavor. Sighing contentedly, Helga temporarily forgot that she would be spending the night alone.

"I'm sorry Helga, but Devon already drove us to the restaurant. We were going to wait for you there. We could wait for you if you'd like. I know you could get to the restaurant in a relatively short time."

Helga frowned, knowing full well that Phoebe rarely got to spend time with her boyfriend, let alone in an intimate setting. She didn't want to impose, and she knew that even if she did choose to attend, Devon would be glaring at her as if she were the fifth wheel all night long. Besides, she had already had her ice cream and warm cocoa. It really was too cold to go outside, and she had cleaning to do anyway.

"No, it's okay. You two should go out and have a good time. I've got cleaning to do anyway. You've seen how messy my apartment can get. How about we go out shopping tomorrow? I need something for the annual bar association's party."

Helga could hear Phoebe sigh softly over the phone. Here we go again. Why can't Pheebs just admit she wants to see Geraldo again? Every time she mentioned anything remotely celebratory, that Gerald may be attending Phoebe clammed up. This process was not anything new, nor was it surprising. Phoebe had not been in a relationship with Gerald for three years now. They had both moved on, but apparently Phoebe hadn't moved far enough. Though their split was amicable, she couldn't even seem to want to be in the same room as him. Helga did not understand why exactly, because Phoebe never fully divulged that information. Although Gerald had not been in Hillwood for nearly a year, everyone knew he had taken a job with the CIA. Still, he had been popular among the law crowd, when he had been taken on as a consultant in some cases.

"If you must insist, I'll do it. Devon said he has a surprise for me. Anyway, we're almost at McNally's. I'll call you later, okay?"

Phoebe answered softly.

"Okay, I'll talk to you later. Bye Pheebs."

Helga said, with a slight yawn, not hearing Phoebe's reply. Helga placed the cordless phone on its charger. Stretching in her warm sweatshirt, she began the tedious task of cleaning her home. Soon, she had the majority of her clutter organized or thrown away. There were so many different boxes in which she housed her treasured secrets and memories. Beneath her large array of sports equipment, laid a faded pink cardboard box. She gulped, running her and along the velvet cover. Inside, she rummaged through the various pictures she had taken with Arnold. Tears welled in her eyes as she was reminded of their bitter break up. Things had been great for the first two years, but when the deception and lies began neither she nor Arnold could stand to be together any longer.

Why couldn't they have trusted one another? All the love and faith she had once held for Arnold seemed to have vanished the moment they dissolved their union. She had numerous flings and even a few relationships since then, but never had she had a solid relationship with any man since. Why had things ended so badly for the both of them? His fame and her inability to trust him had been a disastrous combination. She had felt as if she were on the outside looking in when she had been with Arnold. When she had been a little girl, she always believed in the fantasy, the magical feeling that she would have once they were together. Unfortunately her fanciful dream was not realistic. Perhaps she had wanted too much and not given him nearly enough. It was all pointless now.

She closed the box, wondering silently why she couldn't throw away the love letters that had been held within. That box held nothing but wistful memories for her, but why had she held on to it as if it were a cherished gift? The poems she had written for him, and the pictures they had taken still meant something, even if they weren't together. There were other boxes, which held private poems that she had never showed to anyone. Inside those boxes were works that she once foolishly wished she could publish. Yet, they too were reminders of dreams that could never be. She tidied up her closet, glancing around her newly cleaned apartment. She had been so immersed in her work, that she had not realized how late it now was. After working for three hours, she quickly showered, brushing her teeth and heading for bed. Phoebe was probably having a late night with Devon, and she didn't want to interrupt their amorous evening. She snuggled into the heated covers, falling into a peaceful slumber.

The sound of her beeping answering machine awoke her. Helga hated the sound of the machine, but it was necessary, and as attorney she could not afford to miss important messages. Morning had arrived, and with it came the early sounds of her neighbors being as nosy as they could be. The Morgans, an African American family that lived above her were probably sitting down to breakfast. The Sabatos, the Hispanic couple that lived below were always lively on weekends when they prepared for their weekly picnics. She liked her neighbors very much, even though she didn't really talk to them as much as she liked. Brewing her morning cappuccino, Helga combed her hair, and went outside to fetch the paper. On the front page of the Hillwood Post-Legder, was the face of her former paramour. Arnold, who was wearing a nice navy, Armani suit was handcuffed, and appeared to look distraught in the photo. She read the article thoroughly, nearly choking on her coffee, as she read of his charges. He had been accused of murder! Helga read the article six more times, before rushing to the phone. Just as she was about to dial, the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Helga, where have you been? Why haven't you answered your phone? I've left thirteen messages!"

Phoebe's rushed voice yelled out. Helga pulled the receiver away from her ear, wincing at the noise. She checked the machine, and saw that she had over twenty messages. Of the thirteen messages Phoebe had left, three had been from Harold, and two from her associates' office and five had been from her secretary.

"Phoebe, Arnold has been charged with murder! There is no way that Footballhead could be guilty of murder! I can't believe this. Arnold would never kill anyone, especially not Lila Sawyer!"

"I agree, Helga. Our firm has already been bombarded with calls from his publicist. Apparently, no one in the firm is willing to take the case, and you know I would, but I am barred from doing so. They say it would be a conflict of interest because I know him personally. Anyway, he has already been released on bond, and his arraignment is Tuesday."

"You would not be able to fully represent him anyway, Pheebs. You're a tax lawyer, and while you are excellent at tax law, we both know that you wouldn't be able to defend him. I wonder who he will find to represent him. It all seems like a bad dream you know? We grew up with Lila. How could she be dead? He's a celebrity, and we both know that he'll be massacred in the press. I hope he gets a great lawyer. Listen, I've got so many messages that need to be answered. I'll have to talk to you later, alright?"

"Uh huh. I'll see if I can drop by your office. Ciao."

Phoebe replied, ending the connection. Helga played the messages one by one, skipping over Phoebe's. Harold had called to ask if she had heard about Arnold. In fact, out of the other ten messages, only two had been nondescript. These were from her associates. The great thing about private practices was that she was the boss. After her father had made a large fortune expanding his business to include all communication devices, and then purchasing smaller businesses, he had given her a partial inheritance, as means to 'make peace'. In the beginning, Helga had declined the offer. She did not want any assistance from the man that had constantly ignored her for the majority of her life. However, upon exiting law school, she did not like any of the offers that she had been given. Her experiences in the Kravitz, Wyler, and Thanes law firm had been horrible. She put in so much work, and none of it had been appreciated. Finally, she agreed to take her father's offer, and after four years, her small practice had gradually bloomed.

Helga had offered to take on Phoebe as a full partner, but Phoebe was happy in the boring world of corporate tax law. The law offices of Helga G. Pataki were bustling. All around her, she could hear her coworkers chatting wildly as if they had just heard the biggest news. Everyone that had been working with her for over five years knew that she had been seeing Arnold. She was not surprised that so many had shown up for work this Friday, considering the fact that she usually had a strict casual Friday policy. She tended to be lenient with the staff on Friday, so that they could all be happy and compliant throughout the week. A happy staff was a productive staff. Today however, was much different than any other day. News of Arnold's arrest had spread quickly through the building. She entered her office quickly, frowning as she saw all the pink post it notes on her desk. As soon as she sat down, her secretary swarmed in. Allen Thundercloud was a twenty year old journalism student that had been hired part time, so as to alleviate the load that was placed on her afternoon secretary.

He was a very handsome young man, with long silky hair. His Native American heritage was apparent in his voice and his features. Although she enjoyed his company, his entering her office now, signaled unwanted news. He plopped the morning paper on his desk, along with her schedule. She placed the paper aside, having already read it at home. She scanned her meetings for the day. Helga barely had time for lunch with Phoebe.

"Ms. Pataki, a Mr. Nathaniel Davidson has repeatedly called the office, asking that you return his call. He says it's urgent. I believe it concerns the Arnold—"

"Who is Nathaniel Davidson?"

Helga interrupted, wanting to change the subject from Arnold's troubles. Allen stated, walking out the door. The name did sound vaguely familiar. Hadn't Davidson been Arnold's publicist while they were still going out? What could he want with her? She was just about to dial when she heard a loud banging noise, and yelling outside her door. Rushing outside to see the commotion, Helga nearly fell over in shock at the man that stood arguing with one of the clerks.

"Arnold? What are you doing here?"

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Footnotes: That's all for now folks. I'll try updating in a timely fashion. Please review, and thank you for reading this story. Don't forget to read my HA poems. Now for my shameless plug: check my c2 out at http: www. fanfiction. net /c2/4/0/1 There are some pretty cool stories there, and a couple of them are HA fics! Okay, that's it for now. Peace.

-Shanni