Chapter 10

A/N: Was there ever a Chuck villain more hate-able than Nicholas Quinn? Not only does he damage Team B worse than any other baddie we met, it's that lilting, mocking, smug voice that makes one impatient for him to be defeated/dead. I don't think the show did enough with him, I could have done with a whole season as him as the big bad. We Chuck fans might not be thrilled with how the show ended, but I've never seen a Chuck villain that I despised… DESPISED ! more than Nicholas Quinn.

I don't own Chuck and I don't own Blue Bloods, but Barbara Battle is TOTALLY my idea, and we'll find out more about it next few chapters.

Chapter 10

Prologue Manhattan Murder Mystery II

November 2011

New York, New York

Midtown Manhatten

Amsterdam Estates

1245 Park Avenue

Detectives Regan and Curatola's car parked a block away from the … "luxury" apartment complex. In any other city, the Amsterdam Estates would be considered "luxury" by a wide margin… Here on New York's Park Avenue, however it was upper mid-level, about fifteen blocks north of some of the most expensive real estate in the world. Still, the door was opened by a uniformed professional, the lobby staffed by two well kept looking receptionists, and décor did bespeak of tenants who could afford some of the finer things in life.

The high speed elevator whisked them to the 28th floor. Jackie broke the silence "What are you thinking … domestic that went really bad?"

Danny shrugged, not altogether interested in speculating.

The elevator opened to the 28th floor. Even if the two detectives had never been to a homicide before, they'd know that something bad had happened as they stepped out into the hallway. The sound of a female's soft sobbing came from down the hall.

There were ten uniformed police milling about in the hallway and one of the apartments. The door to the apartment, room 2806, was open. One of the officers was talking to the young woman that was the source of the sobbing. Another officer was talking to a man whose suit designated him as a building security guard. The security guard's face was aghast – the look of someone who certainly hadn't expected to find a dead body today.

The woman, Danny noticed, would in almost any normal circumstances be described as very attractive. She had brunette hair and high cheekbones, and looked to be early 20s. The bulky hooded sweat suit she wore hid, but did not downgrade her attractiveness. What did diminish her attractiveness were the bright red, bleary eyes that were common on witnesses who had the gross misfortune of coming upon a dead body. At the woman's feet a docile little Jack Russell terrier lay quietly, somehow understanding that the officers surrounding him were not to be barked at, and did not want to play fetch.

As both the woman and the security guard were giving their basic info to the uniformed officers, Jackie and Danny entered the apartment. The stink of recent death hung heavy in the room. It was a weird, nasty mix of the stench of blood, and of human feces. Danny couldn't see the corpse yet, but it had obviously defecated itself. Self-control, hygiene and dignity … these were purely concerns for the living, and the resident of this apartment no longer prioritized them. Besides, messing oneself was, in Danny's opinion, an entirely reasonable response to the fear one must have felt in getting killed.

Crime scene investigators in their baseball caps, overalls and windbreakers scuttled about the large apartment. The DOA wasn't in the living room, Danny and Jackie made their way to the study, where the CSU supervisor and two subordinates squatted next to the victim.

He had been a man just on the boundary between "middle aged" and "elderly", anywhere from mid-fifties to early seventies. He had clearly not gone quietly into the night. He lay on his back behind a work desk, the rolling desk chair off to his side, as if he had fallen out of it. His right hand was swollen, especially two of his fingers. A small trickle of blood streamed from his nose. Blood in much more substantial amounts coated the carpet underneath him. His shirt showed two smallish entry wounds in his torso. A third gunshot wound was to his head, near the center of his forehead.

"I'll go talk to the uniforms" Jackie said as she left Danny with the CSU guys and the victim.

"So what've we got?" Danny asked the CSU supervisor. Glancing at the supervisor, he noted that his nametag said "Whitmore".

"A pretty fresh one" Whitmore said. "Not gone for more than a few hours. Livor and rigor have just begun to set in and he's not yet cold all the way. Still above room temperature."

Danny sighed. A fresh homicide indeed. Livor mortis was the phenomenon of the victim's blood settling in the lowest parts of the body, in this case the back, shoulders, buttocks and rears of the thighs. The status of this settling was known as lividity. Rigor mortis happened at around the same time, as the muscles of the body, having recently shut down due to oxygen starvation, stiffened. Both processes began a mere hour or so after death, usually. Fresh homicides always frustrated Danny somewhat. If only a recent decision had gone differently for this man, he'd be alive. If only a security guard had toured the hall an hour or so ago besides a half hour before or later. If only the victim had run out to the store and had missed his killer by a few minutes. Whatever had gone wrong to end this man's life had gone wrong only recently.

Whitmore continued. "Don't know who or what it's about, but this" he said, pointing to the forehead wound. " … is pretty interesting. It's a smallish caliber round. No exit wound means low powered handgun …. But that hole looks just a skosh too big to be a .22. No powder burns on the shirt or the forehead, so it was at a little more that point blank range."

" A .32?" Danny asked.

" I'll lay a twenty on it being a .25 once the M.E goes poking around in that melon." Whitmore responded.

"No powder burns …" Danny softly muttered to himself. He circled around to the front of the desk and extended his fingers as if he were a child playing with an imaginary gun.

"I'd say the gun was in front of the desk, not above it. Otherwise we'd get powder burns." Whitmore said helpfully.

"Right," Danny agreed, taking a step back. Gesturing again with his "gun", he mimicked shooting the target behind the desk three times "Bam-bam. Bam."

"They worked him over a bit too." Whitmore pointed at the left hand. "Another twenty says two of those fingers are broken, and that's a sucker bet if there ever was one."

"Not giving you my money" Danny said.

One of Whitmore's CSU guys spoke up. "Detective, you might want to look at this." He said pointing to the desk, which was conspicuously empty but for a calendar ink blotter.

"Look at what?" Danny demanded.

The CSU guy- this one's nametag said "Delassendro" – simply responded by shining a regular flashlight at the ink blotter. Four regularly spaced indentations in the paper indicated the weight of…

"Ok, our guy was working on a laptop computer." Danny said. "Which begs the question 'where is it now?'"

"Well," Jackie said, having returned from the hallway. "We've got a professor who's dead with broken fingers, and his computer stolen. Think the missing computer can be related?"

"I wonder." Danny said sarcastically, not thinking for a second that the missing computer wasn't part-and parcel of the homicide in front of him. "Professor, huh?"

"Yeah," Jackie said, glancing at her notes. "Apparently, this is Doctor Lewis Penncrest, He teaches psychology at Columbia. He was a pretty smart guy. Doctorates in neurobiology and psychology. Published a bunch of times, collaborated on a few textbooks… and…" Jackie continued letting her eyes fall around the magnificent apartment-cum-murder-scene " married an investment banker for his second marriage a few years ago. Hence the posh address."

"Good for him" Danny said. "We expect her home later today?"

"No, she died about two years ago. It was just him." Jackie informed.

"Who found the body?" Danny wanted to know.

"Yeah, She's right outside. Thought she looked familiar. Believe it or not, it's Jessica McLaws." Jackie said.

Danny froze in his tracks. "Jessica McLaws … Jessica McLaws… why do I know that name?"

"Um, because you have two sons who love video games, one of whom is on the cusp of puberty?" Jackie said through a grin.

"Ha-ha, very funny.'" Danny said. "No, seriously, why?"

"That was why, genius." Jackie said. "She's a lingerie model, but has the rep as being America's sweetheart. Every male age twelve through dead is in love with her. And as if teen boys didn't love her enough already, she's the new skin model for Barbara Battle. She's already huge, and she's going to be even bigger once that game comes out."

"Yeah, well right now she's our witness." Danny said, leading Jackie outside.

Danny could see it now, Jessica McLaw's face was indeed familiar from a few appearances in which he had seen her on Regis and Kelly, Letterman and Jimmy Kimmel. Danny's son Jack even had a poster of her on his bedroom wall. Danny remembered himself and Linda being impressed with Jack's choice. His poster of Jessica McLaws wasn't overtly sexual, sleazy or exploitative in the way typical posters of starlets were – rather it was an action picture of her completing the New York City marathon last year. The poster depicted her power and pride, while unfailingly showcasing her magnificent face and body. There were worse celebrity women for his son to admire.

McLaws was beginning to recover from the shock of having discovered a dead body, although her eyes were still quite red.

"Ma'am I'm Detective Reagan, this is Detective Curatola. Do I understand right that you were the one who found the body?"

McLaws nodded. "That's raht" she said with a weary Alabama drawl.

"Could you walk us through your day today, up until the point where you discovered professor Penncrest?" Jackie asked.

"I swung by around 10:30 to pick up Aristotle." She gestured to the still leashed dog. "Everythin' seemed to be fine. I took 'im for his walk, we were out for about an hour, or an hour and a half, and then when I came back, a little before twelve, he wouldn't open his door. Aristotle started barking. I knew something was wrong. Lewis would never keep Aristotle waiting. So after a few minutes, I called the security desk. Ricardo came up to let me in, and that's when we saw …" Jessica allowed her voice to trail off in helpless horror. "I had no idea anything like this had happened! I thought maybe he slipped in the shower or had a heart attack or something! And then Ricardo and I come in and find …"

"It's okay." Danny said, weakly. "Aristotle is Professor Penncrest's dog?"

"Yeah."

"And the professor was in good shape when you came to pick him up?"

"He was fine! He seemed a little busy … but he always was like that."

"Was he alone?" Jackie asked.

Jessica McLaws nodded.

"And then what happened. You said you were gone until twelve. Where'd you and Aristotle go?" Jackie asked.

"Aristotle likes doing his business at the playground at Lex and 96th. And he's a big fat diva, he loves it when the kids come to play with him. When I walk him, we're usually good for an hour and a half."

"Right... So you come back, got the guard, and found him like that. Was he working on anything when you left?"

"I don't know. I didn't make it to the study. He just handed me Aristotle's leash this morning. And that was it."

"Was anyone else waiting to see the professor ..." Danny began

"Detective!" McLaws blurted out, annoyed. "If someone had been waiting to see Dr. Penncrest, I would have brought them up to you by now!"

"Okay." Danny said.

Jackie had a confused look on her face. "Ms. McLaws … there's something I don't really understand. You're big famous model … and you're walking a professor's dog?"

McLaws stared at the two detectives and her eyes began welling up, and her lip began quivering. "Doctor Penncrest was my philosophy prof my first year at Colombia. He was my favorite professor – one of the few who didn't talk down to me. I wasn't famous back then. Back then I didn't have a lot of money, and he came up with the idea that I start a dog walking business. I did. Aristotle was my first and favorite fur-client. I meet up with him once a week or so. I don't have a lot of friends in New York, and Dr. Penncrest was one of them."

"Gotcha." Jackie said, satisfied with the explanation.

"Ms. McLaws" Danny asked "Did Dr. Penncrest have any enemies that you know of? Any fellow faculty that he was having problems with? Anyone he owed money too?"

"None that I know of " McLaws said. "I'd be surprised if anyone did. I mean, it's not like he was everyone's best friend – he wasn't that friendly. He did some work for the government, and didn't talk about a lot of what he did, but it wasn't like he was unfriendly about it. I've never met anyone who had anything bad to say about him."

At that, the model's phone rang. She moved to answer it, and while Danny was about to politely demand that the two detectives in front of her be granted priority, she quickly looked at the screen and said "It's my agent. Let me get rid of him" Answering, she said "Sol. Hi. Now's not a good time. Can I call you back in an hour or so? … Okay. Good." Hanging up, she shook her head in disbelief. "My friend gets murdered, and he wants me in LA for press junkets."

"Ms. McLaws, we'll need you to come down to the precinct to make an official statement, it should only take an hour or two. Would that be okay?" Jackie asked.

"Yeah," McLaws said.

"Detectives," Whitmore of the CSU said, holding up a prize, as he walked into the hallway. In his latex gloved hand, he held an iPhone. "I take it you don't want me to tag it and bag it like just any old evidence."

Jackie's eyes lit up at the acquisition of their victim's phone … and likely contacts list. "No. Tag, Bag, and right to the techno nerds."

Yet another voice from the other down the hallway, "Detective" declared the patrol sergeant – "Chen" according to this nametag. "We've got news on surveillance. Yes surveillance on the elevators and main lobby, but each floor has a access to the emergency staircase, and there're no cameras there."

"Great" Danny groused. Perhaps the murderer was foolish enough to take one of the elevator cars and get himself caught on camera … but Danny and Jackie knew better than to count on that. "Okay get a canvas on all the units on the floor, and go vertical say two floors up and down" he commanded.

"Already started, detective" Chen said with a bored degree of satisfaction that declared that this wasn't his first rodeo. "And you're not gonna believe who's one floor up."

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One Floor Up

".25" Danny mused in the elevator. "That's an odd caliber. If Whitmore's right, our guy got hit with a pretty distinctive gun."

"Yeah," Jackie agreed. "Who even makes .25s? How many guns nowadays even accept a .25 ACP cartridge?" Jackie asked, mostly to herself and not really expecting an answer.

"Only three I know of" Danny said with surprising quickness. "Taurus PT-25, Beretta 21 Bobcat, and Volkoff Zhavoronok. It means 'lark'".

Jackie raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the readiness of Danny's answer.

"Guy I knew in the Marines. He was a walking encyclopedia of guns." Stepping off of the opening elevator, Danny inspected the hallway. "Okay … 2906. Do you want to start with this one, or save it for last?"

"Oh, we both know you're dying to do this." Jackie smiled.

Taking a deep breath, Danny knocked on the door.

For the last few minutes, he'd been trying to picture what the tenant would look like. It wouldn't be his first brush with celebrity, of course … but this particular one had been out of the limelight for some time.

"Hello," said the woman when she opened up her door. "May I help you?"

Danny blinked quickly. In her mid-fifties, Bo Derek's sex kitten days, arguably should have been at least slightly behind her, but it seemed that she didn't know it yet. There was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, and soft coo in her voice which suggested a woman who did nowhere near believe herself to be through charming men.

"Miss Derek, I'm Detective Reagan and this is my partner Detective Curatola, NYPD. Might we come in?"

"Oh, of course," she said open up her door wide, and granting the detectives entry. Once both were inside the mildly luxurious apartment, Bo Derek turned and looked at Danny. "Reagan? Any relation to the police commissioner, detective?"

"My father." Danny said.

"Oh" Derek purred. "I came close to meeting him a few months ago. There was a benefit with Tony Bennet and Carrie Underwood. I don't believe he noticed me." Giving Danny an appraising glance from head to toe, she said "Clearly his good looks are genetic."

Jackie had to bite down a guffaw. Her partner might have been handsome enough, but he was commonly abrasive and businesslike while working a case. He didn't really send out the vibes that encouraged women to flirt with him, but some female witnesses and suspects tried to anyway. Jackie would always note that, and in each case, wonder why. Some women just flirted as a natural way of dealing with men … others used it as a way to deflect and distract.

"Miss Derek …" Danny began.

"Oh, no please. Call me Bo".

Danny's blush made Jackie more and more amused. "Sorry, Ma'am. Can't do that."

Jackie continued "Ma'am we're investigating a homicide on the floor below, and we're wondering …"

Derek's eyes grew wide with horror, and her mouth gaped. "Homicide? Someone was killed? Oh, but that's awful!" she declared.

"Yes, ma'am it was." Jackie agreed. Then she stayed silent, willing Danny to continue with the questions while she gauged the reaction of Derek. .

Derek then gestured to the sofa and love seat in the living area of the luxury apartment. "Why don't we sit down?"

Danny and Jackie were just about to sit when they froze in their tracks, as Bo called over her shoulder. "Oh, Nicholas. We have company."

From the bedroom of the apartment strode a barrel chested, bearded gentleman. He was dressed in a black suit and dark shirt that complemented his jet black hair and beard. He cut a somewhat imposing figure, but Danny noticed his eyes most of all. They were dark and slightly unfocused, as if nothing or no one in the room was of particular interest to him. With a critical glance at Derek, he asked in a long lilting drawl, "To your mind, is it truly the time to be entertaining, my dear?"

"Um, Nicholas, these two are New York detectives. "Derek clarified.

"Ahhhh… … … I see. Is it about the car that was broken into two nights ago? … Because if it is …" Nicholas asked.

"No, Nicholas. They say their homicide detectives." Derek stressed.

"Ah!" he said with a grin that seemed most peculiar to both Danny and Jackie. "So someone killed the little jackanapes who broke into the car. Excellent to hear, detectives. Rather than see him arrested, I'd wish to commend him."

Danny was truly annoyed now. It was common enough for witnesses and victim's families and neighbors to try to charm a detective with humor … but a homicide investigation was rarely the times for jokes, and a brace of detectives who'd just seen a dead body were certainly not the audience.

That and there was something off-putting about this one's voice, and general use of words, as if he were someone used to using flowery language and complex words to express simple thoughts. It bugged him enough when Erin and Jamie used words more complicated than he was used to … but they were lawyer – trained, and so a five star vocabulary sort of came with their territory.

This person just seemed to like the sound of his own voice … which was irritating in its own right. Danny knew a brogue well – half the nuns that taught him when he was growing up had one, and so did a dozen or more of the Irish old school cops that were friends with either his father or grandfather. The brogue combined with his penchant for drawing out his words combined to give the illusion that this man was drunk a lot.

"Look uh, mister …" Danny began,

"Quinn's the name. Nicholas Quinn, detective."

"Mister Quinn" Danny began again. "We're investigating a homicide that happened not three or four hours ago in the apartment just below here."

"That's awful." Derek said again. Quinn now took a seat next to Bo on the love seat. With everyone now seated, Danny and Jackie now felt comfortable following suit.

"Yeah the victim was Dr. Lewis Penncrest, and he was a professor at Columbia. Have you ever met him?" Danny said.

"Oh. The professor. Would that be the one with the little dog?" Derek asked. Off of Danny and Jackie's nods, she continued "I knew him to say hi. I knew that he was a professor. But I didn't spend time with him."

"So you've met Aristotle?" Jackie asked.

"If that's his name." Derek said. "Like I said, I didn't spend much in the way of time with him. But I love dogs. You could always tell when the man below had a visitor – the dog would bark in that little yappy voice of his until he learned that he recognized his visitor. Then he'd be a good little dog." Derek said with a smile.

"A dog walker swung by earlier. Did you hear him barking then?" Jackie wanted to know.

"Only for a bit. One or two barks. I'm sure the dog knows his human beings. They always seem to." Derek informed sweetly..

"Ma'am, we believe that the victim was killed by gunshots. Did you hear anything like that this morning?" Danny asked.

Derek scoffed. "Detectives, if I'd heard gunshots, I'd certainly would have called the police about them. No I didn't."

"So you didn't hear any shots from the apartment below." Jackie asked to clarify.

"No." Derek shook her head.

" … but you could hear Aristotle barking earlier?"

Direct hit! Jackie held a poker face when she saw Bo Derek blink twice at having the inconsistency discovered. Danny's only follow up question was to arch his eyebrow inquisitively. Both detectives reflected that Derek had never truly been famous for her acting talents.

"I ummm …"

Quinn on the other hand, seemed adept at improv. "Well detectives, it's not in the nature of a gentleman to brag, but Ms. Derek and I had been quite preoccupied with each other until shortly before you arrived. We didn't hear anything that's fit for repeating …" he said with a self-satisfied smirk.

Jackie noted that Bo's smile was less one of shy embarrassment, and looked more like one of some relief.

"Okay." Danny said, "so you were busy and you didn't hear anything, and you didn't know the professor all that well anyways. Now Ms. Derek, we're asking this of everyone, so please don't be offended: Do you own a gun?"

Bo blinked once more, and then gave another sweet playful smile. She tossed her long platinum hair back as she said "Detective, I think we all know that you can find that out for yourself by looking me up. What you really want to know is whether or not I'm a good girl who'll tell the truth. Yes I do have a gun. I'm the proud owner of a Volkoff Lark. A pink one… as well as a Baretta 8045 Cougar."

Danny and Jackie were now in rapt attention at the mention of the .25 caliber pistol. "Ms. Derek, once the medical examiner finishes the autopsy, we may need to examine that weapon."

Bo's eyes narrowed with concern. "Hmm detective, I don't think I'll be able to say 'yes' to that. I'm going to need my gun next week. I shoot competitively and a few of my friends in Aspen would be very unhappy if I couldn't make it."

Derek got up and strode over to a shelf on her wall, and proudly procured a framed certificate that contained photo of herself with three other women. All were attractive-even-at-just-past-middle age … And Danny thought that all looked kind of, sort of familiar. They all held modest trophies, similar to the bull's eye trophy on the shelf next to which the certificate was placed.

The certificate read Second Place Rocky Mountain Invitational 2010 – The Powder Burners – Catherine Bach, Bo Derek, Randi Oakes, Lynda Carter

"You'd think playing a cop would have made Randi the best shot, but no. Catherine and I are the best. They never did draw their guns on CHiPs" Derek said proudly. "I'm an integral part of the team. Next week we're going to snatch first place away from the Groovy Lands, the posing little sluts."

At this Quinn spoke up. "Anyone watching this one trade cuts with Pamela Hensley will not want for amusement, detectives."

Excited now, Derek said "A few from a British team might also be in town, so we might have to take them to school as well."

"Ah, yes" Quinn said wistfully "Julie Andrews is so proud of her ability to properly perform the Mozambique Drill, until she comes up against Catherine and Bo. Never can one watch Mary Poppins the same way again after seeing a thing like that."

Jacki and Danny both stiffened at Quinn's mention of the Mozambique Drill, which was defined as the putting down of human target with two gunshots to the chest, and an additional one to the head – enough to ensure that an opponent went down and stayed down. The drill perfectly described the wounds found on Dr. Penncrest below.

"Well, as much as I'd hate to leave Wonder Woman, Daisy Duke and Officer Somethingorother down a teammate, we are definitely going to want to take a look at that gun."

Derek's eyes flashed in amused confidence – as one who had just been underestimated and was about to turn the tables on her opponent. "I'll have to insist on seeing a warrant, detective" she said. "I'm looking forward to using it at the Invitational net week, and I leave tomorrow. "

"Tenacious this one is … particularly when it comes to firearms." Quinn seemed to gloat – though Danny decided that it could simply be the way he talked. Looking askance as Danny he asked "Detective Reagan … Did an obviously Irish fellow like yourself have a Catholic education perchance?"

It was Jackie who spoke up with a slight grin "both of us. St. Lucy's" she said with a thumb to her chest.

"Holy Cross" Danny said. "Why?"

"Then the good sisters no doubt had you learn your Rudyard Kipling. That clever chap taught us that the female's more deadly than the male." With a mischievous twinkle in his coal-black eye, he continued "which is why I'd lay even tender on which one of yourselves outshoots the other at the range, detectives. I suspect detective Curatola here is quite talented."

"You don't know the half of it" Jackie grinned with forced politeness, even as a chilling thought dawned on her.

"At any rate, I fear it'll take the power of the law to separate her from her firearm" Quinn continued.

"If that's what we've gotta do, then that's what we'll do. Don't lose that gun in the meantime."

At this Danny felt a squeeze on his right pinkie. Jackie was squeezing his little finger, giving him warning of a plan she had just thought up on the fly. I'm going to tell a lie. Watch for a reaction.

Jackie reacted as if her iPhone was vibrating for her attention. "Hello, what have we here? … Hey partner – good news on the missing laptop."

"Who, Professor Penncrest's?" Danny asked.

"No Tyler Martin's" Jackie said sarcastically. "Of course Dr. Penncrest."

"What is it?" Danny pressed, turning to give his attention to Jackie but keeping Derek and Quinn in his peripherals.

"Four words – Remote Backup Hard Drive." Jackie chirped. "Our guy had a remote gizmo that recorded every keystroke on his computer. The tech guys just found it! We might not even need the laptop after all."

"Well hurrah for small favors" Danny said with mild relief. Sure enough, in his left peripheral vision, there was a blonde flash as Derek snapped her head to Quinn in what seemed like concern. Jackie noticed it as well, and she fought to suppress her look of victory.

Quinn's own phone chirped. After regarding the incoming text, he said to Derek "It seems that we're well advised to pick an earlier flight to Colorado, my dear. Apparently there's quite a loud chap there who has something we want, and isn't shy about letting everyone know it."

Danny and Jackie turned to leave, both detectives certain that the case of the late Dr. Lewis Penncrest involved a trail that blazed right through the apartment they were now leaving.

Once on the other side of the door, Danny said "You keep up with the canvas. I'll head downstairs to see what I can do about looking at that gun."

Jackie opened her mouth to protest, but found herself looking at Danny's back as it headed towards the elevator. "Better you than me" she said to herself.

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The Lobby

I should have seen this coming. Danny sighed to himself. But he hadn't. Both Danny and Jackie were sure that Derek and Quinn had much more to do with the murder of Dr. Penncrest than that of the role of horrified-neighbor-who-couldn't-believe-a-fellow-tennant-got-killed. Danny's gut and intuition were among his strongest assets, and they were all screaming that Derek and Quinn were, for whatever reasons, key pieces of the puzzle as to why Dr. Penncrest was dead.

But the five seconds of incredulous dead silence coming from the cell phone made it clear that what was plain to him and Jackie wasn't going to be plain to the mechanics of the law.

"Sooo … Let me get this straight" came the voice of his sister over the cell phone. Erin was using the tone of voice that he remembered Jack's nursery school teacher using. No matter what Erin was about to say, Danny already knew that he wasn't getting a warrant for the weapon. "You want me – or any other ADA- to get a judge to sign warrant for Bo Derek's gun, based on the fact that you think she lied about hearing the dog, but not hearing the gunshots."

"Well it's not just that – we think she and this Quinn guy might have the laptop that was apparently stolen from the place."

"Based on what?" Erin demanded. "And don't even think about saying 'a hunch'!"

"They didn't seem too happy when Jackie fibbed that there was a backup hard drive in one of the victim's rooms." Danny defended.

"Soo….. A hunch." Erin said sourly.

"Sis, I will bet you Sunday dinner that the M. E. pulls out a .25 bullet from the vic's head. That's going to be weird, distinctive slug, and it's going to match Bo Derek's pink little Volkoff Lark. Whaddaya say? Loser buys the roast."

"I'm not saying you're wrong." Erin said staunchly. "But I am saying that right here and now you've got nothing but hunches and gut feelings. No evidence at all. Wait until the M.E. gets the slug, then maybe you'll have a good reason to go into this lady's place to get her gun. Until then, I can't even buy a warrant with what you've got. In fact, I'm probably not going to be able to get one even after the bullet comes out, once we all learn how many .25 caliber guns are around the tri-state area. Sorry Danny, but Bo Derek and her gun are free to go where ever they want until you've got something a little bit more solid."

"Right, right. Got it." Danny growled. It was always annoying to hear his sister be the voice of reason, even more annoying when he knew she was right, and still more annoying to hear her explain in painstaking detail why that was so. Bo Derek and Nicholas Quinn, were for the moment, safe from any action.