"I was framed, I tell ya! FRAMED!"

"We have you on camera holding the Beretta, shooting the clerk after you found out they didn't have peanuts, and then slapped around the woman that was helping you."

"Framed! They got someone who looks like me!"

"Take him away."

"NOOOOOO…"

"Thanks, Barrett."

"No problem."

Fran sighed. The criminals weren't getting better, but dumber. It could also explain the recent rise of crime. Dumb people thinking they could what they want and get away with it. Well, thanks to them, they made her life suck!

"Have some coffee." Fran looked up, and looked into the smiling face of Kiryl. "You deserve it."

"Thanks. How's Alena?" Fran took a sip. Mmm…cinnamon…

"Doing great! How's Jessie?"

"A little annoyed by the workload, but fine." Fran finished her coffee and placed it to the side. "Leave it there. I'll refill it later. I got somewhere to be in the next hour."

"Okay. Gotta to go." He dashed off, carrying the rest of the coffee cups to the others.

Fran looked at her desk. She needed to do some cleaning, but her appointment was far too important. She still had to do five cases of paperwork, but four of them could be done within the month. The fifth one? The murder of John Temple needed to finished today. The appointment wouldn't take long, and Jessica was always willing to help. She decided to get started on the murder file; fill out the simple stuff and save the rest for later.

She didn't get far, as her watch went off. Time to go.

"Where're you going?" Asked Sergeant Barrett.

"I'm meeting a informant." Fran grabbed a paper bag filled with some clothes and headed towards the parking lot. "If things go well, I think we could look forward to a vacation."

"But you're not going to tell me or anyone else any details until the end."

"I don't want to take the chance. Sorry."

The Land of Honey sounded like a fruity place for a club, but make no mistake, it was wild! It had the quality of a Hollywoodian nightclub, but it lasted all day, and the party never died. Some guy claimed to have been partying for a entire week, but due to the building being four-stories tall, and as wide as two baseball fields, no one could confirm or disapprove the record.

Fran had switched to jeans, purple shirt with sequins, and a pair of purple high-heels.

In short, she looked like a undercover cop undercover.

And she talked to as such.

"I'm here to see Ms. Valentine." Fran said to a big burly guy wearing a suit a size too small. The guy looked at Fran, observing her all-too obvious disguise. "I'm Fran Albert?" Do you have a list…or something?"

"Just checking." The guy stepped away from the golden/velvet door. "Ms. Valentine is expecting you."

When Fran stepped on the mat that read, 'Bring Your Desires In' (With overly elaborate pink font.) , the door opened on it's own. Fran sighed.

"How much, Ivy?" Fran asked.

"Not much." Fran walked into the Owner's Office, a booth overlooking the fourth floor dance floor. The booth was over-the-top lavish. White (fake) fur covered most of the furniture; making it weird considering the place could double as a bedroom. The only other two colors were black and purple. Even the only other two people in the room were wearing white, purple, and black. One was the club owner, Ivy Valentine, in her 20s purple gown, and the other...Fran never saw the maid in her life.

"I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce you to my servant. Her name is Iroha." Iroha bowed. She was a pretty young Japanese woman, with raven black hair, a polar opposite to Ivy's. "You may leave us, now." Iroha took a silver tray decorated with empty wine glasses and left the room, without a sound. Ivy waved her hand to a empty purple plush chair, inviting her to sit down.

"Thank you." Fran sat down, retrieving a notepad from her back pocket. "Skip the chit-chat and let's get to business."

"Darn. We just got in some Grandose." She took a sip of the bubbling red/black liquid and placed the glass down on the glass table, one of the three things NOT dressed in fur.

"So you have some info of Don Wallace?" Fran asked completely serious.

"Did you know that a single bottle of Grandose costs a entire night of customers?" Ivy said completely joking.

"Please. Don Wallace."

"Ah, Don…Wallace." Ivy scratched her chin. "Ah, yes! A good customer. A rude, violent, ugly customer, but still a good customer. He pays well. In fact, the Grandose…"

"Be quiet."

"Sorry. All right, Don Wallace runs the city."

"Pardon?"

"He…runs…the…city. I can repeat again if you want." Instead of a verbal reply, Ivy got a glare. Ivy continued. "He got the mayor he liked into office. By like, I mean he was paid. Remember what happened to Robinson? Nothing, right? He lost by votes. Not by death, or withdrawn. No, according to the voters, they preferred Grant. And Grant is more than happy to help his 'campaign manager.' You wouldn't see him here, but Wallace's men are great story tellers after a bottle."

"So as far as you know, all you have are some drunken ramblings."

"I have my own…gang. Rather, my informants. They checked, and Wallace and Grant have been seen together."

"Ivy, I better not run into your gang during patrol."

"I make sure to drive the point home that they don't do crimes. Or…Mama spank." Ivy imitated such a action. Fran quickly recollected the various rumors about Ivy. If those could be trusted…sounds right. Fran wrote herself a note about Ivy's gang, and flipped over to a new, blank page. "So they mayor works with Wallace. Anyone else with a important position?"

"Let's see…" Ivy got up and walked over to the desk, the second thing not covered in fur. She opened the wide drawer and retrieved a dollar-store blue notebook, and handed it to Fran. "Consider that a early birthday gift. That's everyone that the Don has worked with. Everyone from judges, cops, C., store managers…if their names are in the book, they're good friends with the Don…or rather, the ungrateful ones."

Fran quickly flipped through the book. Dear god…she worked with, knew, and/or helped some of these people. Dan Garret; he ran the grocery store two blocks down from the apartment. Melissa Shopper; didn't Jessica mention her name once? Like during a talk about how hard work was? Hunter Mesa; damn. A judge she played with cards with.

It got worse.

Victor…Marrow…Westland.

He worked one desk over on the right of Jessica.

Nice guy. Didn't even flirt with Jessica. Invited the couple over for a steak one night. Had a nice house. All that…he got all that…by working with Don Wallace.

Fran had a hard time trying to keep a good process of thought. The one saving grace was that no one else close to her or Jessica was on the list. Angelo, a Father of a church, and Balthier, a captain of a constantly traveling trading ship, were the names that Fran expected.

"Disturbing, isn't it?" The usual lustful tone of Ivy's voice turned serious. "You know some of those people listed, right? The ones you exchange pleasant conservations with nearly everyday? Perhaps…you even spent time in their homes? Maybe you dated one of them before your marriage?" Ivy pointed to the silver band with a small diamond that laid on Fran's finger. "Some of my childhood friends are on this list. They're…nice friends."

Fran closed the notebook. The Captain had to see this. Things were going to get ugly…wait…Ivy said something earlier.

"Ivy." Fran asked, regaining some composure.

"Yes, dear? More questions?"

"One more. I think…this is enough."

"Good. That's all I know about the Don. He walks in, get the VIP booth, orders, and leaves."

"…how did you know about my birthday?"

Ivy smiled. "I don't."

"You said, early. My birthday is ten days from now. How did you know it didn't happen already?"

Ivy's smile didn't fade. "You're right. I know when your birthday is. I will send you a more apporiate gift that day. Wine or jewelry?"

"How much more do you know?"

"Hmm…" Ivy said, mockilly. "Ah. Everything."

Fran sunk lower into her seat.

"When you came to me, asking for information, I needed to do a…background check. Makes sense, right? When you get a informant, you do a check. So why not the informant do the same? I know your birth date, where you've been in the last fifteen years, your school records, friends and family…speaking of family…"

"No." Fran stood up. "Leave Jessica out of this."

"Why?" Ivy shrugged her shoulders. "She's a cop too. Besides, once you turn that notebook in, she's going to get involved. Considering the power of the people listed, you and your beautiful wife will have to go into hiding…with me, the original owner of the notebook. Soon, we'll be family."

Fran didn't need to think twice. She needed to turn the book in, but once that happened, everything that Ivy said would happen. She didn't trust Ivy, for very good reasons. She came into town a couple years ago, and set up the club. Some of the rumors were about her being a abusive boss, and a sexual deviant. Very little was known about her, even to the police. She only got cleared as a informant because she had no criminal record, and a cop from her old town gave her a glowing report.

"…I need to get this to safe hands." Fran said, walking over to the door.

"Yes. Hurry. Don't stop for anything." Ivy snapped her fingers. The door opened, and Iroha stepped in, carrying a brown paper bag. "Here. A ham sandwich, a bag of pretzels, a cheese stick, a can of Coke, and a brownie. Don't eat while driving, play attention to signs, and have fun!" Ivy giggled as a nonchalant Fran took her bagged lunch from a smiling Iroha and ran out the door.

"Madam?" Iroha asked, as she closed the door behind her.

"Yes, my little eavesdrop?" Ivy took her glass, and finished the rest of her wine.

"What's going to happen to you?"

Ivy smiled. "Nothing. I promise you."

"What about her?"

Ivy smile dropped. "She's fine…but Jessica…mmm…" Ivy placed the empty glass on the table again. "…nah. Fran will protect her. No need to worry."

"All right." Iroha took the glass, and left.

Once she left, Ivy went back to the desk, and opened the middle drawer again. She pulled out a second notebook, this one having papers and pictures stuffed in. She flipped through it, looking for something.

Around the forty-seven page, she found it. She took a deep breath, and exhaled. Okay, things were looking up.

But her eyes took notice of something else. A picture that fell out when she flipped to the page. Upon picking it up, she smiled.

They do make a lovely couple.