Well, this is probably the last for this weekend. Enjoy XD

The text messages have some formatting probs – trying to fix...

SPOILERS: It's AU so none really – maybe L's real name at some point. But who doesn't know that by now? XD

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Death Note or its characters. But I own a bunch of bizarre murder suspects – and a bad habit of spelling Soichiro's name wrong for some reason XD

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"We're going to be working with L on this," Yagami Soichiro said as Aizawa came into the room, looking rather annoyed. "Apparently he's taken an interest in the case."

"L?" Matsuda's face lit up. "Yagami-kun, you've never met him, have you?"

"No," Raito said. I wonder why L would be interested in this? Maybe it is a serial killing – maybe he knows something we don't.

"Well, nobody has," Matsuda went on. "He lives in a laptop."

"He speaks to us through a laptop," Soichiro corrected him. "He's averse to appearing in person, because he has a lot of enemies."

"Secretive," Matsuda said. "Mysterious. Enigmatic."

"I get the idea," Raito smiled. "Paranoid."

"Probably," Matsuda nodded. "And he has this weird voice, like a computer."

"That's only because he's speaking through the computer, Matsuda," Soichiro said, giving his younger colleague a look of resignation. "I'm sure he has a perfectly normal voice like everyone else if you were to actually meet him."

"Which nobody ever has," Matsuda said.

"Somebody must have," Raito said, unable to resist the urge to tease. "What about his mother and father? They must have some idea what he looks like?"

"Somehow I can't imagine L having parents," Matsuda said. "He's like a – he's like Robocop."

"You think he's a cyborg, Matsuda-san?" Raito said. "Like the Terminator?"

Matsuda looked thoughtful. "Maybe... no, like Blade Runner. I feel he's more of a Rutger Hauer than an Arnold Schwarzenegger."

"Shame if he looks like Rutger Hauer and he has to hide," Raito commented.

"Really, Yagami-kun, you sound so gay sometimes," Matsuda smiled. "And he has this strange man who carries him about."

"Like Voldemort?"

"No, because Voldemort never turns himself into a laptop, silly!"

"My popular culture references obviously need some updating," Raito smiled and turned his attention to his father who was bringing Aizawa up-to-date on events.

"There were eight of them," Soichiro was saying. "All booked in together. Four are dead. Raito, I'm going to have to ask you to stay and question the rest of them, they're all English speakers and you speak English better than the rest of us."

"No problem, otousan," Raito said. Another sleepless night. With no sex. With gruesome corpses and vomiting. My life is a happy place.

"Matsuda and Aizawa can help you," Soichiro went on.

"Thanks, otousan," Raito said. My joy is complete. He pulled out his phone as it burbled out its text alert and read the message.

Ask about suspects' sexual preferences. L

"Don't bother to introduce yourself," Raito muttered, checking where the text had come from and finding it was number unknown. He replied to it anyway.

What do you mean?

"I have a text from L," he told his father, passing it over. "Did you tell him I'd be questioning the suspects?"

"No, I haven't spoken to him yet," Soichiro said. "He probably worked it out. As I said, you're the best person to do it. I imagine he has files on all of us."

"So he already knows who the suspects are," Raito said. "Or at least that they're English speakers." He glanced down at his phone as his father returned it, saw he had a reply.

Gay, straight, bisexual, anything more inventive you can think of. L

"That isn't what I wanted to know," Raito gave his phone a look of irritation. Replied.

Why?

"I'm going to meet with Watari," Soichiro said. "He's L's assistant."

"He's the one who carries him around," Matsuda put in.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Soichiro beckoned Raito, who followed him out of the room.

"You might find him a little difficult, Raito," Soichiro said as they waited for the elevator. "L, I mean. He's used to having things done his own way."

"His own way meaning he says jump and we ask how high?" Raito said.

"Something like that," Soichiro smiled. "I suppose he's used to that kind of subservience from other people." he paused as they got into the elevator. "After all, he is the world's best detective."

"Why are you mentioning this to me, otousan?" Raito asked. "Do you think I'm going to have some problem with him?"

"No, Raito, I hope not," Soichiro said as they left the elevator and walked across the hotel lobby. "It's just that – you also have your own way of doing things. And while we see that as a good thing and realise it's more productive to let you work like that, L doesn't know you. He may be – "

"Rude and demanding?" Raito suggested, holding the door open for his father.

"I wouldn't go that far," Soichiro looked thoughtful. "Actually, just between us, I would go that far. But I'm sure your manners are good enough to enable you to smooth over any little difficulties."

"Ignore his bad manners and keep him sweet?" Raito suggested as they walked over to the police car that was waiting for Soichiro.

"I knew you'd understand me, Raito," Soichiro smiled. "I've worked with L before and I don't get the feeling he's being deliberately rude. It's more as if he simply doesn't know how to behave politely."

"Cultural differences?" Raito said. "Or perhaps his self-imposed isolation?"

"The latter, I'd think," Soichiro got into the car. "I'm sure you can make allowances, Raito. I'll see you shortly."

Raito nodded and turned away.

"It's the police chief!" he heard, and glanced to his left, seeing a group of people starting to move toward him. Damn reporters! Time to leave.

"He's gone!"

"That's his son! Yagami Raito!"

"Yagami-san, are you working on this case? Can you tell us – "

Raito ignored the questions, walking rapidly back toward the hotel doors, not running because that would be undignified. He glanced behind him, saw the reporters getting closer, a couple of uniformed police officers stepping in to intercept them, turned away and suddenly collided with someone he hadn't seen.

"I'm sorry!" Raito exclaimed, putting out his hands to steady himself and finding he had hold of – his mind suddenly and inexplicably shut down as he found himself staring into or rather down at the most unusual and exotically beautiful face he'd ever seen. Half-turned away, as if the man didn't want to meet his eyes, but still – stunning.

"Uh..." Raito muttered.

"Excuse me," the stranger's voice was deep and gentle and somehow didn't fit his shabby clothing, self-effacing posture, or the disordered strands of hair that straggled out from under the hood of his jacket. He gave one sidelong glance at Raito and went on, "I think you should hurry. The hounds are at your heels."

"Um – yes..." Raito realised he was still holding the stranger's shoulders and let go, feeling his face flush. Looked behind him to see the reporters had nearly reached him, their eyes gleaming, mouths streaming questions. Turned back to find the strange man had vanished.

"Wha – " Raito shook his head and hurried back into the hotel.

Back in the elevator he leaned against the wall as it ascended, closing his eyes. I am so gay! It's all that damn Maskelyne's fault! One moment with him and I'm staring at men on the street and wondering what it'd be like to – but anybody would have, wouldn't they? I mean – he was – well, gorgeous. I never saw anybody – I can't think about this now! I have a case to solve! And a cantakerous detective to appease.

He took out his phone and found no reply from L to his earlier question. That seemed par for the course from what his father had said. L probably expected him to do whatever he was told without asking for reasons.

"We've set up in an empty room on this floor," Aizawa was waiting for Raito as he got out of the elevator. "Matsuda's checking out the victims, so you and I can question the suspects."

"Are you okay, Aizawa-san?" Raito asked. The man didn't look too happy.

"My wife's not very pleased," Aizawa said. "She thought I was going to be home for the weekend."

"I know what you mean," Raito said. "It must be difficult for you."

Aizawa just shook his head and led Raito to their new headquarters.

"I'm looking for information on these guys, Yagami-kun," Matsuda said, from his position in front of a laptop. "It's all PhD this, MA that, MSc the other, MD, LLB, LLM, MBA, and a whole bunch of letters I don't even know the meaning of. These victims are really intelligent! Well, they were until someone took their brains away."

"That's interesting, don't you think?" Raito said. "I wonder if they were chosen because of their high intelligence? If their brains were removed to make some kind of point?"

"What, use it and lose it?" Mogi muttered, slipping on his coat. "I'm going to round up that damn TV crew that was at the crime scene, Yagami-kun. They need to be fingerprinted, God knows what they might have touched."

"Yes, thanks, Mogi," Raito said. "Aizawa, let's go talk to somebody – we may as well do them in alphabetical order, let's start with – Thomas Duhamel?"

"He's a professor at Oxford University in England," Matsuda said. "Mag – Magdalen College..."

"It's pronounced Maudlin," Raito said. "What's he a professor of?"

"English," Matsuda said. "That's handy, Yagami-kun, he's bound to understand you. Can I come with you? I've never met an English professor before. Not one that's actually English, anyway. Why do they call them Fellows?"

"It's just a traditional term, Matsuda-san. It's like someone having tenure, it means they're a permanent member of the staff."

Raito sighed as he went out into the corridor, his ill-assorted team behind him, one sulking, one babbling.

"He's in room 314," Matsuda said, excitedly.

"Thank you, Matsuda-san," Raito said, hand raised to knock on the door of 314.

The door swung open to reveal a rather startling sight. A man of around thirty-five, dressed quite normally in black jeans and a navy sweatshirt that was liberally decorated with what looked like dinner and perhaps a few other meals as well. The casual effect was ruined by the suburban-grandmother mop of pink permed hair that swept around his piercing dark eyes.

"Good morning!" he exclaimed. "I'm – oh, it's evening! Good evening! You must be the stalwart defendants of law and order! My goodness, you're younger than I expected!"

"And you are – " Raito said. His hair! Don't look at his hair! Look at his face! Not – damn! I'm looking at the hair!

"Tom Duhamel," the man said. "Is something wrong? Oh!" he reached up and swept the hair off his head, revealing a flattened and lank mess of dark curls. "My wig," he explained.

"Your – wig," Raito repeated.

"I write romance novels for a hobby," Duhamel said cheerfully. "This helps me get into the mood."

"Really," Raito said, feeling a bit at a loss.

"I'm Lois Lexington," Duhamel leaned toward Raito, whispering confidentially.

"You never!" Matsuda exclaimed. "I have – I mean my mother has all your books!"

"My sister reads them too," Raito confessed.

"That's just your hobby?" Matsuda looked amazed. "But – you're a bestseller! You must have made a lot of money out of all that passion and romance and heaving bosoms and palpitating – "

"I think we get the idea, Matsuda-san," Raito interrupted.

"Yes, it's lucrative," said Duhamel, "but money's not that important. I think of it as a hobby because really, who can take all those heaving bosoms and straining codpieces seriously? But do come in and have some tea!"

The detectives followed the ebulliant author into his room, introduced themselves and were served tea by two long-haired Japanese boys wearing what appeared to be loincloths made of chain.

"These are Hugin and Munin," Duhamel explained. "My pets – they're so helpful around the house. Or the hotel room. Mind that yucca, dear, it has sharp leaves, I can't think what they're doing putting something like that in a public place. I suppose you want to know what I know about the murders?"

"What do you know about the murders?" Raito asked.

"Absolutely nothing," Duhamel said. "Biscuit? Scone?"

"No, thank you," Raito said. "If you don't mind, Mr Duhamel, would you tell me why exactly the eight of you that booked in here together came to Japan?"

"It was my idea," Duhamel said, throwing himself down on a couch, then squeaking and removing the hardback book he'd sat on. "Ow, that has sharp corners. I'm a Japanophile – I've been to Tokyo quite a few times so we thought we'd all come. And Marc Shimabukuro, God rest his soul, had Japanese ancestry, so he was quite excited about it. Who would have thought he'd end up dead in the land of his forefathers."

"He was the one who worked for NASA," Matsuda hissed across as Duhamel pulled a handkerchief from his sleeve and blew his nose.

"I'm very sorry for your loss," Raito said. "Could I ask, when you say all of you, what exactly is your connection?"

"Well, we're just a group of friends, you know," Duhamel said. "We met online and at conferences, that kind of thing and we do things together. Sometimes. And this was one of the things we decided to do. We went to Thailand together a couple of years ago. Last year we went to San Francisco. We went to New York City too, but that doesn't really count as some of us already live there."

"I see," Raito said, beginning to think that he did. "Your trips – I notice that they're to places that could be considered gay-friendly?"

"Really?" Duhamel gave Raito an innocent look. "Well, I make no secret of anything but I'm not going to out my friends, you'll have to ask them for yourself. Talking of which – what time do you get off duty?"

"I really don't think I do, thank you, Mr Duhamel," Raito smiled. "Not with all this going on."

"I can wait," Duhamel said, shamelessly ogling.

"I'm, uh, spoken for," Raito said. Does an online relationship that's only ever got sticky once actually count? It would have been twice, though – if it wasn't for these murders. He definitely seems interested in me. I think it counts.

"You are?" Matsuda leaned across Aizawa interestedly.

"So I gather you were all going to have dinner together, in Mr Shimabukoro's room?" Raito ignored Matsuda.

"Not all of us," Duhamel said. "We were going to get together properly tomorrow. People were still arriving, unpacking and who knows what. That's how it ended up being just the four of them. I would have been there, but my flight was delayed. I was still floating around in the ether – I hate to fly! Absolutely hate it! I always take a ferry if I'm going anywhere that's conceivably accessible by water – "

"Can you give me your flight number?" Raito asked.

"Of course, dear, I have all the details – somewhere – " He rummaged around under the table and came out with what Raito decided to charitably describe as a man-purse although he was sure he'd never seen one in magenta before.

Raito took the tickets and papers the man handed to him.

"We'll need you to give us your clothes," Matsuda said.

"I thought you'd never ask!" Duhamel exclaimed, grabbing the hem of his sweatshirt and starting to lift it up.

"I don't think we need those right now," Raito said hurriedly. "Whoever the murderer is, they must be in quite a mess, and I don't see any blood on you."

"There is some egg there," Matsuda pointed.

"Oh, that's just my breakfast," Duhamel said.

"That's all for now," Raito said, getting up. "We'll probably need to speak to you again – "

"Oh, any time!" Duhamel said, showing them to the door with a smile. "Especially if you're handling things personally, Yagami-san!"

"I, er – " Raito began but was saved the necessity of a reply as Duhamel took Aizawa by the arm.

"Is your hair a wig too?" the eccentric author asked.

"No!" Aizawa spluttered, pulling away. "It's my own!"

"My, it's very – bouffant, isn't it!"

Raito, his face aching from restraining laughter, nodded to the professor and swept his entourage out of the room. He leaned against the wall for a brief moment once the door had closed after them and breathed a sigh of relief. "Matsuda-san!" he said. "Why did you ask him to take his clothes off?"

"I was just being kind, Yagami-kun," Matsuda said. "I thought he'd like to undress in front of you."

"I can see now why they say genius is next-door to insanity!" Aizawa exclaimed.

"I beg your pardon?" Raito said.

"Not you, Yagami-kun!" Aizawa said. "I don't think of you as a madman. You always seem so normal."

Raito opened his mouth to comment on that then fished out his phone again as it let him know he had a text. If this is L again –

Am I ever going to get your dick in my mouth?

Somehow, Raito decided that this message probably wasn't from L.