Spade: *wiping blood off a kitchen knife* BeachCat … is all up in pieces at the moment, so I will be doing the intro. … There, intro's done. Disclaimers.

BeachCat does not own Detective Conan/Case Closed etc. If she ever thinks she could own it one day, I shall destroy those pitiful dreams and cast them into a fiery despair from which they can never be recovered….

*stitched smile*

Chapter 3

A teenage girl sat in a secluded corner of Rookwood's airport café. Once in a while, she looked up from her precious sketchbook to take a sip of her still scalding hot chocolate. Pushing a lock of stray brown hair behind her ear, she looked around for something to draw. The only decorations on the whitewash walls were a map of the world and a picture of some old, probably dead, man. Besides the chairs and occasional table, there were a few scattered trashcans here and there. There were no other decorations; not even a fake plant. The most interesting thing in sight was the dented napkin dispenser on her table. She sighed and, deciding her artist block had defeated her once again, stood to return to her family.

As she left, she past two men waiting near one of the arrival gates.

The first, the one that stuck out the most, was a big, burly man, approximately in his early forties. He had a crop of short, bristly, red hair that looked like it hadn't seen a barber in too long. Though his unshaven stubble would suggest he was a grizzly, unkempt man, he had a bright white smile and squinted, hazel eyes that twinkled merrily. He wore a bright red and yellow Hawaiian flower shirt and tan pants. In his large hands, he held a sign with a couple of foreign symbols that could have been a name.

The other was almost the complete opposite of his large companion. He was young – couldn't have been over twenty-five. He was tall and thin, but not exceedingly so. His sleek, black hair hung loosely about his ears; his bangs dangled down his forehead. He had deep blue eyes that seemed to always be looking through the things around him, not at them. So deep in thought…

"Hey Ace," the big man said, "I thought you said we could dress casually… Why did you come in your suit?"

Ace blinked, glancing at his partner in slight confusion. Then, looking down at his black tux, he smiled, slightly embarrassed, "I had to run here from church. An old friend of my father's past away and they had a funeral for him at St. Mary's."

"Ah." Big Mac looked back towards the gate doors as the plane finished docking.

Ace glanced again at Big Mac, managing to disguise a snicker with a cough. "Uh, so what's with the shirt?"

"Oh this?" Big Mac smiled broadly and pulled affectionately on the bright shirt, "I made up some pork and pineapples in rice for lunch and my daughters and I had a 'luau'."

Both men laughed at that.

Finally, the passengers began filing off of the plane. Most of the crowd had come and gone when Ace spotted whom they were waiting for. The report said there would be three of them, Detective Kogoro Mouri and the two minors accompanying him, his daughter, Ran Mouri and another child of no relation. Somehow, the child's name was lost before it was put in the report.

Big Mac began waving the sign with the Mouri's name on it to catch their attention.

The boy was the first to notice the sign and mentioned it to the teen holding his hand who passed the news to the middle-aged man lagging behind. As the three came forward, Ace watched as the boy's eyes scanned up and down both him and his partner. Gears were turning behind those eyes; sizing up, calculating… That is until their eyes met. The boy quickly looked away suddenly interested in the nearby café. A small smirk fluttered across Ace's face as he noted the boy's actions.

When the group of foreigners came close, Ace stepped forward to shake Detective Mouri's hand.

"I am Detective Ace Farthing," Ace said in fluent Japanese, "and," gesturing towards his partner, "this is Mac Johnson."

"You can call me Big Mac," Big Mac said in English, grinning.

The Japanese detective returned the handshake. "I am Detective Mouri Kogoro. This is my daughter, Ran, and the boy is Edogawa Conan." he said, "They won't interfere with the investigation."

Ace raised an eyebrow. The last comment seemed to be directed more at the young boy than his daughter.

The boy grunted something inaudible, an annoyed look crossing his face.

"Hmm," Ace knelt down, eye to eye with the boy. "You don't seem to be the type to cause trouble, Conan," he said seriously, but at the look on the boy's face his serious façade broke and he let out a good-natured laugh.

The boy's alarmed expression faded and was quickly and easily replaced by a childish grin.

"I'm not trying to be troublesome; I'm learning to be a detective like my ojisan!" Conan stated proudly.

"Yeah, well he certainly already knows his way around," Ran said, grinning at the boy holding her hand, "He's always finding something useful during a case."

"Really," Ace wondered aloud. Then, remembering his manners, he stood and shook Ran's hand.

Glancing again at Conan, he smiled, "Maybe you could use those sharp eyes of those to help us out some…"

Before the boy could think of a reply, Ace turned back to Kogoro, "Your baggage has already been taken care of and my partner and I will drive you to the motel. Feel free to rest and get rid of some jetlag; you have today and tomorrow before we get to work."

With that, Ace turned in the direction of the exit, giving no time for thanks.

O.O.O.O.O.O

Conan settled into the passenger seat of Big Mac's police cruiser, removing his heavy backpack and carefully dropping at his feet. In the backpack was everything he thought might be necessary for this case: his voice changing bow tie, stun gun watch, inflatable soccer ball belt, a couple sheets of tracking stickers, and other various items Agasa-hakase had made. It was a miracle security didn't stop to search his bag.

"Conan-kun!" Conan looked out the window. Ran was waving to him from the back seat of Ace's dark blue sports car, "Be good, okay!"

"Hai, I promise," he said waving back.

Since they got to the airport, Ran had held Conan's hand as if her life depended on it. Why? It was probably because he had a reputation of disappearing in large crowds. Or maybe she just nervous being in a new city with an infamous killer lurking about and felt the need to feel someone else's hand holding hers. Whatever the reason, she had not been thrilled when Conan asked to go alone with Big Mac. It wasn't that she didn't trust Big Mac; she was just worried. Eventually her father got sick of them debating the matter and told Ran it would be fine (not that he cared, he just wanted the kid out of his hair).

Regardless of Ran's feelings, Conan had to seize this perfect opportunity to gather information without her father's near-constant interference.

"Okay then," Big Mac grunted as he flopped into the driver's seat, shaking the cruiser in the process. He turned the key, the engine revved to life, and they pulled out of the parking lot.

After a few minutes of twisting through entries, exits, and merging highway traffic, they reached the city of Rookwood.

Tall, metal and glass skyscrapers towered over the distant east half of the city. Radiating westward – and slightly downhill, Conan noted as he gazed at the stair step-like landscape – the buildings became smaller, plainer, and made more of concrete than metal. Older brick buildings took up much of the rest of the city. The overcast skies darkened everything to varying tones of gray.

Small drops of water pitter-pattered on the windshield as it began to drizzle.

Conan looked up at Big Mac, "So," he said in English, "how did Detective Farthing hurt his leg."

"Hey now," Big Mac shot Conan a broad grin, "It's nice to know I can talk without worrying about a translator." He chuckled lightheartedly for a moment, but the laugh died out as his brows knit together in concern, "Ace's leg… I didn't think it was still bothering him. He was shot."

"By Spade?" Conan asked casually.

Big Mac heaved a sigh, "I don't know if a kid your age should –" There must have been something about the look on Conan's face that made Big Mac change his mind. "Yeah… Spade shot him. You see, we were tipped off that three drug dealers had vanished last month. Under normal circumstances, tips like that would usually be discarded by the higher-ups – they think disappearances like that are a waste of time and government funding." Big Mac paused as he eased his car to a stop at a red light.

"Under normal circumstances?" Conan pressed.

"Spade gives us hints," Big Mac said, growling the last word, "Notes, riddles, photographs, all of them signed with a drawing of a spade."

That sounds familiar, Conan thought as a certain thief came to mind.

"If any police department receives something like that," Big Mac continued, "they send it straight to us. That time it had been a fuzzy picture of the storehouses at the low side of the city and pictures of the three dealers. Of course, we didn't have to know what happened – or will happen, in some cases – there; when we get something from Spade, we check it out."

"What if it was a trap?" Conan asked.

Big Mac shook his head, "Usually he doesn't set traps for the police; he's just interested in criminals… but that time was different. Ace was shot, we still don't know how but –"

"Wait," Conan interrupted, "Don't know how?"

"Spade wasn't there. We found a tape recorder, but no gun." Big Mac shrugged, "Our CSI team couldn't find it."

"And the three drug dealers?" Conan asked, his 'child' voice discarded and replaced by a slightly deeper, quiet, and intelligent voice.

"Long dead."

The rest of the ride through the streets of Rookwood was spent in silence. Conan gazed out into the now heavily falling rain, reflecting on this new information. He hardly noticed the patrol car roll to a stop.

"Here we are," Big Mac stated. When Conan took no notice, Big Mac tapped him on the shoulder, jolting the boy out of his thoughts.

"Sorry," Conan said, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment, "I wasn't paying attention."

Big Mac just smiled, "Nah, that's fine," then, more to himself than to Conan, "You remind me of him."

Conan blinked, puzzled.

"Ace. You remind me of how Ace was before he joined the force." With that, Big Mac opened his door, grabbing an umbrella as he stepped out into the pouring rain.

Conan, grabbing his backpack, jumped out of the car to follow Big Mac into the motel.

x.x.x.x.x.x

The motel was not what Conan would consider 5-star. The ceiling creaked with the footsteps of those on the floor above. The not-so-white walls were cracked in various places and bits of dry paint littered the maroon-ish carpet like flaky dandruff. On the up side, there were two bedrooms and, unlike the rest of the city, the room did not smell of mold.

Conan made a bed for himself out of one of the cushioned chairs and footrest, knowing full well that Kogoro would take the bed. He set his backpack down behind the chair as a final act of setting into his new environment.

Big Mac was sitting on a wooden chair on the other side of the room. He was attempting to text with little progress; his large fingers often pressed multiple buttons, forcing him to erase whatever he had put in and try again. He noticed Conan's badly suppressed look of amusement and heaved a frustrated sigh.

"Damn buttons are too small." He mumbled to himself. Finally he sent the message and not ten seconds later his phone buzzed with the new reply. He rolled his eyes, but smiled, "Hey, Conan, is it just me or do all kids nowadays have the ability to text faster than they talk?"

"Pretty much." Conan walked over and sat on the edge of the bed facing Big Mac. "That your kid?"

"Mm hmm. Her name's Cathy. She's about fifteen now…" His voice trailed off a bit.

"Your divorced." Conan stated, already knowing the answer.

"Three years now… don't get to see her much with my job…" He stopped, trying to text his daughter back.

Conan nodded, knowing the subject had been dropped.

Click.

Big Mac and Conan leapt to their feet. Big Mac drew his concealed 9mm Beretta and Conan flipped the targeting top off of his stun-gun watch. Both aimed their weapons at the now open doorway…

… which was occupied by a very surprised Mouri Kogoro. He dropped his bags and raised his hands high above his head.

"Ha!" Ace walked through the doorway, nudging the still trembling detective aside, "What are you so jumpy for?" A good-natured smirk spread across his face nearly ear to ear, "It was just the door."

Big Mac sighed, holstering his weapon. "Sorry about that, Detective. Seems like I've been working too long; getting paranoid."

The PI simply nodded, but it was obvious by the stunned expression on his face and his hand lingering over his heart that it would take a moment longer for him to recover.

Ace shook his head, "You're not the only one, partner." Ace looked down at Conan who had quickly closed the top of the watch while Big Mac was apologizing… not quick enough. "What's that thing you've got there?" Ace was still smiling, but his voice was harder than it had been before, not cold or hateful, simply firmer.

"It's just a watch." Conan said softly in English. He didn't want Kogoro joining in on the conversation. It could become troublesome to bring the watch to his attention and for good reason.

Conan tensed as Ace knelt down and grabbed his small wrist, lifting it – gently – to examine the watch. A moment later, the top flipped up. Aces eyebrows raised slightly, as if he hadn't honestly expected anything to happen.

A knob on the side slid outwards slightly - the trigger. Ace went to press it.

"Don't!" Conan yanked his wrist from Ace's grasp. Too late.

"Hnniggh! Uhhnnnn." Thud.

Ace and Big Mac turned, eyes wide in surprise. They had seen it, for the briefest of moments, a needle shooting out of the child's watch, flying through the air … and hitting the Japanese detective – who had bent down to grab his suitcase – smack dab in the middle of his forehead. Said detective was now slumped over one of his suitcases, fast asleep.

Both conscious detectives turned back to the boy whose expression was a mix of great irritation and extreme discomfort.

Ace looked at that boy, trying and failing to conceal his shock and giddy curiosity, "Uh… Explain."

BeachCat: Yay! Another chapter's finished! Ace, Big Mac, and the Detective Conan crew meet! But more importantly, I'm back in one piece again!

(Spade lurks dangerously in the shadowed corners of my mind.)

BC: Sorry it took so long to get this written. It's really hard to type when bits and pieces of you are all scattered across the globe (cough-it was writer's block-cough). Still can't find my right knee cap… Anywho! I leave you with this disturbing image. Imagine Gin, the extremely scary, would kill you as soon as look at you Gin. … Now imagine him laughing like Mouri Kogoro, tongue sticking out and all. Gives you shivers, don't it?

Gin snipes me dead. :3

Edit: Same as the previous chapters. Small edits here and there.

Please Review my wonderful readers. ;D