A/N: Good morning!Yes that's right, folks, simultaneous fics!

This is also a group fic. Though a completely different group fic to "I'll Be Watching You" This fic has been extensively planned and un-plot holed and really really considered carefully and - well it's been in the making for about months now and we've only just begun writing the actual fic itself. It is also different in that there are only three of us working on it so it should flow better than "I'll Be Watching You."

The three of us writing it are: Lilyjnr (Carlie) Forensic Paws (Elsa) and me, all from the really cool forum, http/charmedscripts.tv/cj

You'll see where it's all going once you read. :P

Chapter 1: Consideration

"Where are you, Jordan?" an irritated Garret barked over the phone to her. She was in her car, trying to juggle both her scalding hot coffee and her hands-free cell phone, and failing as she drove along the road at a steadily decreasing pace.
"On my way to…" she paused and looked down at the piece of paper she had scribbled the address on and rattled it off to her boss.
"Okay," he said, obviously impatient to get off the phone. "Hurry up, we have a tonne to do."
"Its days like these you wish people would be considerate and not die, isn't it?" she said dryly.
"You're breaking up," he said, just as sardonically, muttered a farewell and hung up the phone.
When she had arrived at her destination, she climbed gingerly out of her car, still sore from a night sleeping on her couch. She had done so because, silly thing that she was, she had spilt water all over her bed and couldn't be bothered changing the sheets. Rolling her neck and shoulders, she scanned the place with her eyes.
"Morning doctor," a young man bounced out in front of her, causing her to jump back in momentary shock.
"Detective," she said, eyeing his badge and wondering if she was getting older or the detectives were getting younger.
"Ex cop," he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, and watching, obviously trying to gauge her reaction.
"Okay," she said indifferently, and looked towards the house, then back to the detective. "Do you want to lead the way then?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Reddening under her scrutiny, he bobbed his head and turned, walking quickly into the house.
They came into what was obviously a bedroom, and she spotted her charge immediately. A tall, well built, stocky man was sprawled out on his bed, head bent back. She walked closer and saw the expression of bitterness etched into his face. In his hand he clutched a very old, very battered book, one which looked to be a journal of some sorts.
"Richard Donovan," the detective said, hovering over her shoulder. She sent him a look and bent over the body.
"TOD around 9pm last night," she said. "No wounds or any external injuries."
She felt the back of his head.
"No head trauma."
The young detective nodded and scribbled the information down in his notebook.
After completing her on-scene examination, she took the book carefully from the dead man's protesting fingers and bagged it. Nigel could have some fun with it later, she thought. Beckoning the people who would transport the body to the morgue, she packed up her things, nodded to the detective and climbed back into her car, grimacing at the now cold, congealing coffee in the holder and promising herself another nice, scalding cup when she arrived at the morgue.

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"Died from a heart attack," Jordan concluded, having finished the internal examination. Nigel, who was assisting her, nodded, distracted. He was sitting on a chair on the other side of the room, back to her.
"Tox clean," he said, not even looking at her. She frowned and walked around the other side of the gurney and looked over his shoulder.
"What are you…"
Her question didn't even finish formulating. She saw that he was reading the journal that the man had held so close to him when he had died, and felt a twinge of guilt that she hadn't thought to read it sooner.
"What does it say?"
"It's not his," Nigel said, finally breaking and looking up. "Some woman called Lola, from what I can gather."
She plucked it out of his hands. At his mock hurt expression, she grinned. "My case," she said, shrugging. He scowled at her.
"I'm reading it next," he said, and left the room.
Jordan put the book to one side and closed Ricky up, bagging his body again, for transportation back into the crypt. Lily was having trouble finding the family of the man but that didn't matter for now. Someone would eventually come forward.
She again picked up the journal and took it to her office. She opened it, only intending to read the first page or two, but became so engrossed in it, the next time she looked up, an hour had passed.
Garret looked in on her.
"What are you doing?" he asked, exasperated.
"Working on a case," she muttered.
"It looks like you're reading a book," he said, flatly.
She looked up from the journal.
"Diary that came in with Ex-Detective Richard Donovan."
Garret sighed, and nodded, leaving the room. She bent her head again and resumed her place.
Two hours later (although it only felt like ten minutes to her!) Nigel came in.
She looked up at him and smiled. "This is like a novel," she said, waving the book.
"I read something in the middle of it," he said, nodding. "What is it about?"
She turned the old, yellowing pages back a few and cleared her throat.
"January 6th, 1927," she read. "Bert was killed last night. The police say it was poison. They also say that I did it, so I don't think they're really to be trusted. One of them was staring at me strangely, though. Donovan, I think his name was. But what does it matter? If they're set on the fact that it was me, then it was me, for all that the technicalities matter. Stanley is pretty cut up about it, as is to be expected. He's not talking to me, which hurts far more than anything the police can throw my way. We have been friends for so long I have given up counting, he has been there for me where no one else has, and I for him. I can't bear to have him believe that I murdered his father. The owner of the prestigious Midnight Monkey murdered, and I the prime suspect. I should have seen it coming. It's not even like Bert had no enemies. There were the owners of the other bars around, to name a few. Even Willard has a reason to kill him, though I must say I don't think him capable of it. They are calling me back in for another interview now, so I must sign out."
She looked at Nigel, who was frowning. "Donovan being the bloke in autopsy one?"
She nodded. "I'll ask Dad tonight if he knew him," she said, and waved the criminologist out as she sank back into the epic.
Another hour and she was done. Nigel chose just that moment to come back in, when the tears were threatening to fall down her face.
"What is it, love?" he asked, concerned.
"They hanged her," she said, voice wavering.
"You softy," he teased gently, and took the book from her, reading the last page.
"Donovan wrote that?" he queried.
She nodded. "His tribute. He was enamoured of her, to say the least." Nigel grinned. "But her last entry while on death row was what did it for me."
Nigel flipped back, read, and fought back the lump that was forming in his own throat.
"God that's awful!" he said after he had finished, not knowing what else to say. To Jordan, it was perfectly clear to her that Lola was not a murderer. How could someone so like her, for she had discovered Lola was, be capable of something like that?"
Lily poked her head around the door, unaware of the emotions flying around both Jordan and Nigel.
"No family," she said.
"None?" Nigel asked, surprised.
"He was 95 years old," she said, shrugging. "An orphan, apparently. No siblings, never married, never had kids. No friends. Absolutely nothing."
Jordan and Nigel exchanged a glance.
"He didn't betray her with anyone," Jordan said. Their eyes locked, neither knowing quite what to say. Lily frowned, shook her head and walked out.
"I think I'll go ask Max now," she said, feeling strange and standing up. Nigel nodded and watched as she walked out of the room and down the corridor to the elevator.

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"The Midnight Monkey, did you say?" Max asked, staring at Jordan and standing up from the lounge.
She nodded, frowning. His eyes were alight.
"Jordan," he said slowly.
"What?" she asked, irritated.
"That is The Pogue!"
"What?" she asked stupidly.
"The Midnight Monkey was the name of my bar in the 20's!"
She shook her head. "You're having me on."
"I'm dead serious!" he said.
A smiled couldn't help but spreading over her face.
"I think we're a little overdue, don't you?"
Confusion was evident on her father's face.
"I bags Lola," she said, and it dawned on him.
"I want to be Donovan!" he said, but she wrinkled her nose. "I was picturing you as Bert, actually."
"Bert?" he asked.
"The owner of the bar." She didn't elaborate.
"The one who was murdered?"
She grinned and nodded. "Nigel can have fun teasing you. You always give him a bad role."
He smiled. "I like being dead, anyway. Tonight?"
"If I can round them all up, then yeah," she said, reaching up and planting a kiss on his cheek before turning.
"I'll see you at the Midnight Monkey!" he said. She grinned to herself and waved, before walking out of the door, phone already in hand.

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"I thought we only did cold cases?" Garret said when she had put it to him. She wrinkled her nose and tossed him the diary.
"Yeah, preferably murders, as well," she said. "It's not Ricky Donovan. Bert Watson."
"Sounds like a talk show host," Garret said, irritably, and flicked through the crackly, yellowing pages of the journal.
He stopped at one of the pages and his eyebrow rose.
"Sounds more like a romance novel than a murder," he said, but she could tell he was interested. He looked at her. "Do you have the case file?"
She grinned. "Not yet. Are you free tonight?"
He nodded, trying to look disinterested when really his interest had been piqued. She plucked the journal out of his hands.
"Wait 'till tonight, when all will be revealed," she said, in a sardonically mysterious voice, and turned, leaving the room.

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

"Thanks, Woody," he said, as the detective opened the door to The Pogue and handed her two black files, wordlessly.
"Two?" she asked.
"The second one is a reporter who was involved in the case and murdered." She shrugged. "They thought it was connected back then but couldn't ever prove who did it."
"Let me guess, Lola got the rap for it as well."
"L. Grant?" he surmised, thinking back to the quick skimming over of the report that he had done.
Jordan nodded.
"Am I the first one here?" he asked, looking around the deserted bar.
She nodded. "Dad's out the back seeing what he can dredge up about the Midnight Monkey. He reckons there were some boxes of newspapers and things." She shrugged.
Max came back out, carrying a box, grinning and looking rather pleased with himself. "I lied about the boxes, Jordan," he said, and put the box on the nearest table. "But I have prepared character profiles of everyone, instead, with what you told me about them all earlier this evening and their psychiatric and otherwise profiles and histories from the time."
She shook her head. "You love doing that," she muttered.
The door opened and Garret walked in, followed by Nigel and then Bug. The formalities of greetings and whatnot aside, they settled down with drinks and waited for Lily.
When two figures walked in, one expected and one most certainly not, the six looked up and watched, some interested, some amused and some irritated, as Lily walked in, smiling radiantly and a little stiffly followed by Detective Seely.
"Hi, Lily, Seely," Garret said. "What brings you here?" His last question was directed at the detective, who bristled.
Lily looked at the ME. "We had already made plans," she said, going slightly red, but I wanted to come so I figured we'd combine the two…" she trailed off at the Garret's disinterested face, so she addressed Jordan.
"Hope that's okay?" she asked.
Jordan nodded, smiling at Seely. "Of course, it's fine."
"Okay lets get started," Max said, slapping his hands together. "I characterized you all again, I think we can agree I did well last time?"
An audible mutter from Nigel caused a hearty laugh to ensue from the six others who had witnessed his role last time around later.
"These people lived in the 1920's, so it is going to be considerably harder than last time to get into their heads. Of course, as well as semi-detailed forensic and police reports which Detective Hoyt had been kind enough to procure for us, we have Lola Grant's journal from the time, which has been added onto by Detective Donovan. I think it will be enough to get us started, anyway." He looked around, and nodded perfunctorily, before picking up one of the manilla folders in the box on the table.
"Jordan, you are, for all intents and purposes tonight, Miss Lola Grant."
She grinned, knowing and hoping her father would cast this role to her, and took it without a word, opening it.
"Garret," Max said, stepping away from his daughter to the man standing next to her. "Dr. Fred Mitchell, ME on the case." He nodded and took his file.
"Nigel," he said, and Nigel watched him apprehensively, knowing that, even though Lola was the one accused, there was probably some other perverted character to assign to him.
"Stanley Watson, the murdered man's son."
Nigel grinned and took his file, opening it eagerly and beginning to absorb the information.
"Woody. Detective Ricky Donovan."
Jordan shot him a glance, which he returned as he held out his hand for the file.
"Bug," Max said. "Mr. Willard Jones, a suspect."
Bug nodded.
"Lily, you are, tonight, Violet Meridian, Lola's co-star and best friend."
Lily grinned at Jordan as she took her file.
"I haven't got one for you, detective," Max said. "A file that is. You have a character, though. The reporter who was murdered near the end of the case. Jacob Carmichael. Have a read through the murder report, there are some clippings he wrote, which will probably help you get into his head."
Max stepped back, watching everyone read.
"Happy?" he asked, knowing the answer. They nodded simultaneously, all except Seely who looked very skeptical.
"How exactly does this work?"
Max tapped his nose comically. "All in the fullness of time," he said. "You don't come in for a while anyway, so just watch and learn."
Max looked to his daughter, watching her run a hand over the diary he had slipped into her file.
"Want to take us through it?" he said. "I can't this time because I'm as much in the dark as you. I may look old but I was not there in 1927."
This earnt him a few laughs, and he went on. "So seeing as you have already read the diary…" he trailed off. She hesitated, and looked up at him.
"Yep sure," she said. She opened the diary and, smoothing her hand over the first page, began to read.