TITLE: Dames
Chapter 1: Daytime Fairytales
AUTHOR: Devylish
CATEGORY: AU/Het/Mystery
FANDOM: NCIS
PAIRING: Abby/Tony (in chap. 2 I promise!)
RATING: PG-13+
WARNINGS: AU in a big way
WORDS: 1095
SPOILERS: None.
SUMMARY: What if Gibbs, DiNozzo, and McGee were PI's in the 1940's?
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. Absolutely, positively nothing. Disheartening really.
Dames, can't live with them, can't ignore them if they have a great pair of gams. Anthony DiNozzo - Private Investigator, let his eyes continue to trail up the shapely, silk clad pair that had just walked in his office door.
From the tips of her black heels, to the fitted black suit she wore, up to the tasteful hat with little black veil that sat atop her head, Anthony - Tony - was able to tell two things immediately. 1) His visitor definitely had great legs, and a figure to match, and 2) by the expensive cut of her outfit, her polished shoes, and the gleaming watch that peeked out from above her gloved hand, she had money… and lots of it.
All and all, she appeared to be his favorite kind of customer – female and monied.
"Mr. DiNozzo?" a quiet, but firm, voice questioned from behind the veiled hat.
Lifting his hand to straighten his tie, Tony rose up from behind his desk. "I'm Anthony DiNozzo, how can I help you, ma'am?" He motioned for her to take one of the two chairs that sat before the desk in his small office at Gibbs Investigations.
"Your secretary out front said that you might be able to help me," she stated as she settled into one of the chairs.
Tony walked around to the front of his desk, rested against the edge of it, and watched as his mystery visitor revealed herself. "Help you in what way, ma'am?"
Peeling off her gloves, she slowly crossed her legs, and lifted the veil that, until now, had hidden her face from him. He sighed inwardly; he was a strong man, but like most men, he had his weaknesses. Well, in his case, one weakness – a bird with a beautiful face, good figure, and nice legs. And attach to that the fact that he could see that this dame had traces of tears welling up in her eyes, and he knew almost without a doubt, that he was going to take her case… whatever it might be.
"My name is Ziva. Ziva David. My sister, Caitlyn, died a few months ago and I..." she looked down and blinked back the threatening tears, "I think she was murdered."
Tony didn't know exactly what he had expected to hear from Miss David – perhaps a tale about a cheating spouse, or missing brooch, but a murder conspiracy definitely had not been part of his expectations.
"Miss David, what makes you think you sister was murdered?"
"Money."
"Money?"
"Money. Our grandfather willed each of us a..." she paused and looked up at Tony as she measured her words, "a large sum of money. This money is doled out to us on a monthly basis through our 27th birthdays, at which point, the remaining sum will be given to us in total. We can access the whole sum of the money prior to our 27th birthdays if we get married, at which point, our 'fortunes,'" and here Miss David made eye contact with Tony again, "are placed in our husbands' hands."
Ziva, suddenly seeming to be overwhelmed with emotion, stood up and began to pace the short length of Tony's office. "The only other way that anyone would be able to access our inheritance would," her voice faltered, "would be for… for one of us to die before we got married. In that instance, there are a small number of people or groups that my grandfather has identified as recipients of that part of his fortune."
He could physically see her steeling herself. "That is why I think Caitlyn was murdered. She turned 26 shortly before she died, and she was engaged to be married this year."
"Miss David, your sister Caitlyn's death – just because she was 26, or just because she was engaged, neither of those facts are proof or even particularly suggestive of..." Anthony paused his words as Miss David paused her pacing.
"Mr. DiNozzo, you do not know me, so you will just have to take my word for it when I tell you I am not a woman prone to hysteria or daytime fairytales." She placed her hand on the back of the chair and leaned in toward him. "When my sister died, she was surrounded by a number of the people who are to inherit her half of my grandfather's fortune. And the last thing my sister said to me before – before she... well, she said she felt uneasy and that she thought she was being watched." Ziva straightened, frustration racing over her features. "I am sorry," she reached for her gloves and began to put them on, "maybe Gibbs Investigations is not the place for me to find help. I..."
"Wait, Miss David… wait." DiNozzo stood up from his perch atop the desk. "Did you go to the police with your concerns about your sister?"
"I did. I have spoken with the local police department more times than I care to recall, but, they are, apparently, even less intelligent than they look."
DiNozzo grimaced. Clearly Miss David had been dealing with the same officers that Gibbs Investigations dealt with on a regular basis.
He had a funny feeling that he was going to regret it, but he walked past her, opened his office door, and called out to the secretary. "Miss Palmer, tell McGee we have a case and I need him in here to take notes ASAP." He turned back to Miss David. "Miss David, we're going to need a retainer, and a list of everyone you feel might be involved in your sister's death. I can't promise you anything, but we'll look into the situation for you and see what we come up with."
Her thanks, not effusive, but heartfelt none the less, was interrupted by the arrival of the third, and junior PI of Gibbs Investigations: Timothy McGee. After a brief knock and fumbling with the doorknob, McGee entered the room.
"Palmer said you..." McGee's speech screeched to a halt as he locked eyes with Ziva.
As DiNozzo walked around his desk, he swore he heard the word "beautiful" slide out of McGee's lips. "Miss Ziva David, this is another of our investigators, Timothy McGee. McGee, this is Miss Ziva David, our new client."