Knight Time Investigations, Los Angeles, California, 1549 hours

Liam Newil Dijol-Kynde sat at his desk, staring at his computer screen. He watched page after page of numbers go by, controlled by the scroll button on his mouse. He was going over several months' worth of financial records for a company that he couldn't actually find. Every once in a while he'd find an anomaly and highlight it red for later inspection.

The client, some unnamed billionaire had hired Knight Time Investigations to look into the affairs of the company. Evidently he suspected illegal activity, and fancied himself some sort of do-gooder. Liam hadn't been told who the client was, but evidently he was in good with the boss, Joseph Knight, and with the money that the old man was throwing around, Liam wasn't about to argue.

The company was called Burgeon Imports, and seemed to be run by a Chief Elle Blur, but as far as he could tell, she didn't exist beyond his computer screen. Her passport, birth certificate, driver's license, even her business degrees…they all lead to dead ends. All of them led to clerks who had no record of issuing the documents, or to colleges that were no longer accepting applications, and whose phones were no longer connected. For all intents and purposes, she was a ghost.

And the company, Burgeon Imports, didn't seem to do anything. Their shipping and receiving records, customer invoices, payroll files, and IRS forms were all impeccable, but harbor and air freight records didn't match up. Money came in and went out, but where it came from and where it went was somewhat of a mystery. He'd already ruled out government involvement, as well as any ties to the Italian, Eastern European, South American, or Yakuza style organized crime groups in the city. Something was definitely fishy.

Liam sighed, and rubbed his eyes. He hated financial records. He was better with people. Interviews. He always had been. He could weasel a confession of adultery out of the Pope, but put him in a room with a list of numbers and he'd procrastinate all day if he could.

He leaned back in his chair and sighed. He supposed he could start the interview process. Through some less than clean contacts he'd managed to get a short list of shareholders in the company, and the list was one of the more perplexing things about the case. He'd expected more of the same run around he'd gotten with Elle Blur, but had actually come up with real people. The only problem was that the real people were a veritable who's who of the upper crust Bel Air, Holmby Hills, and Beverly Hills crowds. They all owned primary properties in or around California's "Platinum Triangle", and were all close to as rich as the mystery client that Liam was working for. It made it sort of difficult to interview people pertinent to the case when he had to schedule a meeting with their security teams and PR people first.

His phone rang, interrupting his currently stationary train of thought. He hit the intercom button.

"What's up, Jessie?" he asked the office secretary.

"Your boyfriend's on line three." She said.

He could almost hear the smirk in her voice as she said boyfriend. Just because he was single and lived with three gay men and a lesbian, she assumed he was gay, despite his protestations. Whenever one of his roommates called, she referred to them as "your boyfriend", regardless of the caller's gender.

"Yeah, put 'em through." Liam sighed, picking up the receiver, and pressing the line three button. "Knight Time Investigations, this is Liam Kynde."

"Hey, there, sweetheart. Jessie givin' ya crap again?" the high voice came over the line.

"Hey, Kev. Is it that obvious? She never lays off, that one. What's up?"

"I was just calling ta ask if you'll swing by and grab some mozzarella on the way home. I'm making lasagna for dinner. Looks like just you, me, and Bex." Kevin Cooper said. "Jon and Tony are out for their anniversary date."

Bex was their female LAPD SWAT officer housemate, Rebecca Langstrom. Along with Kevin, a firefighter, Jon Dyer and Tony Garza, both paramedics, she shared Liam's house. The old style Victorian house had been left to Liam by his parents, when they retired and moved to Ireland to "explore their heritage", as they put it. He'd been unable to keep up with the housework or property taxes, and so had taken on housemates. After several disastrous attempts at finding compatible housemates, he'd found Kevin, who brought in Jon, his cousin, and Jon's lover Tony. Rebecca had come later on, after being kicked out of her parent's house for her sexual preference. Kevin had dubbed the house the "Alternative Lifestyle Abode". He still hadn't explained what Liam's "alternative lifestyle" was, but he really didn't need to.

Liam was a mutant. He had the ability to form and fire telekinetic blasts from his hands. When he concentrated, he could form loose masses of energy in his hands. Kevin, the only person he'd told about his ability, had described it as psychic spaghetti. Lots of flexible strands of telekinetic energy, he'd called it. Liam wasn't going to argue. He didn't know how to even begin to describe it. It was an unspoken fact in the house. Kevin knew, but Jon, Tony, and Bex were all in the dark, as far as Liam knew. They'd never given him any indication that they knew anything, and Jon couldn't lie to save his life, so Liam figured his secret was pretty safe.

"Yeah, I'll swing by Parker's and get some. Drinks too?"

"Um….no. We're good. Just the cheese." Kevin said.

"Okay, sure. I should be leaving here in about an hour or so."

"Okay, sweetie. See you in a bit."

"Yeah bye, Kev."

Kevin hung up without saying goodbye, as they all did. Something about working in the emergency services world made phone manners not so important. The only reason Liam was in the habit was that in his line of work he had to get people to talk, without being able to wave a badge around. Phone manners helped more than most people thought.

He turned back to the computer, and bookmarked his place. He'd come back to the financial records tomorrow. Right now he needed someone to interact with, even if it was a sleazy PR agent who would fight tooth and nail to keep him out of their client's business.

For once that day, things were looking up. He smiled as he picked up the phone.