The Archer's loft on Park Avenue was nothing less than what Adam and Beckett expected; to start with, a liveried doorman approached them with barely disguised contempt for Beckett's audacity to park square in front of the condo-complex's taxi and town-car slot.

'Miss,' he called out to her when she got out of the car along with Adam. 'Miss, I'm afraid you'll have to use the guest parking facilities across the street. They take cash and credit-card.'

'See this?' she replied, holding up her badge. 'This is my free parking card. That means my vehicle stays where it is until we're done upstairs with the Archers.'

'Miss-'

'And it's Detective,' she added, her chipper tone taking on a steel edge.

'Detective, you are not on the guest list for the Archers.'

'Again, you see this?' Beckett tapped her badge with the tip of her finger. 'This means free parking and I get to pass go and collect two hundred dollars. My colleague, Detective Brennan and I are here to speak with the Archers regarding a homicide this morning .'

'I cannot in good faith-'

'Detective Brennan?'

'Yes, Detective Beckett.' Adam hung back by the car, keeping his posture casual as he leaned against his closed door.

'Would you care to inform this individual what happened to the last doorman who decided his job was worth more than a murder investigation?'

'The last time that happened, Detective, the doorman was arrested for obstructing an officer in her sworn duty to protect and serve.'

'What happened next?' Beckett asked, cocking her head to the side like she was a puppy curious about the shiny new toy in front of her; her eyes never left the doorman's face.

'Next, sir, you pointed and laughed at him when he was in Holding after you came back from performing the interview anyways, successfully I might add.'

It was a bit of a stretch to the truth but Beckett knew it had the desired impact when she saw the doorman squirm. 'So in short, the guy wound up with a criminal record and I still got my way, right?'

'That's right.'

'You see,' she explained with a polite smile. 'All you're doing right now is wasting my time.'

'Very well.' The doorman somehow managed to sound like he was the insulted one as he escorted them into the building, directed them towards the elevator. Just as the doors opened, Beckett turned back as though she'd forgotten to tell him something important.

'Oh, and if you even think of calling the Archers and telling them Detective Brennan and I are on our way up we'll toss in a little aiding and abetting charge too.'

'Can we really do that?' Adam asked when the elevator doors slid shut in front of the gulping doorman, and Beckett shrugged.

'If any of the Archers are involved in Hill's death, him giving them a heads up falls under assisting a criminal. We'd toss him in a cage and throw away the key as far as I'm concerned.'

'I'm sorry, is this the same Kate Beckett who gave me a lecture just hours ago on not letting my personal feelings cloud my judgment towards the job?'

'Oh funny man,' she sneered at him as the elevator stopped at the penthouse's main entrance. 'Think you're some kinda smart don't you?'

'Smart-ass maybe, and proud of it,' was his jaunty rejoinder.

Beckett lifted her hand, pressed the bell; she gave Adam an elbow in the ribs to have his badge at the ready so they would not appear to be grasping at straws. When the door was opened, Beckett was glad to see she'd been proven right about one thing - the entire time she'd been talking to the butler on the phone, she'd pictured him as a stuffy and starchy Jeeves-type and he fit that bill to a T. He was in a prim black suit with a grey vest and black-and-grey striped tie. He was almost a full head shorter than Beckett and Adam both, and yet somehow managed to look down his nose at them even when he had to tilt his head back to look them in the eye.

'Who are you? How did you get into the building?' he demanded in his snooty English accent.

'Hi, I'm Detective Beckett, this is Detective Brennan,' she replied with her polite smile in place. They both held up their badges and Adam had to grin when he saw the butler's jaw muscles work beneath his pale skin.

'I believe you were told you had no right or no business questioning the Archers in the matter of a homicide.'

'See that's where you're wrong, Quartermain,' Adam replied, 'because Ashley Archer was in the school, not in her classroom during the time of the murder and she has a documented history with the victim.'

'That's preposterous. I will not have you barge in here and spread filthy lies about an upstanding family.'

The butler actually started to close the door in their faces and would have succeeded had it not been for the pixie-brunette who came skipping into the foyer in pressed jeans and a lemon-yellow hoodie.

'Ruskin, what are you doing? That's Detective Beckett, she's working with that other cop.' She pointed a delicate finger at Brennan. 'Sarah told me all about it and she said that they're only trying to do their jobs.'

'But your parents-'

'I don't give a flying wet fuck what those two brain-dead assholes say, especially my mother. All she cares about is the reputation of the school. Can you fetch the refreshments for our guests?'

With efficiently courteous dismissal, she turned to Beckett and Brennan and gave them an apologetic look. 'Sometimes parents trying to protect their kids cause more problems than they realize. I'm Ashley Archer, I'm friends with Sarah and she told me you'd probably want to talk to me. This way.'

She turned towards a parlour, and motioned for them to sit down. In a strange sort of way, the girl reminded Beckett of Alexis - born into wealth and obviously not wanting for any material luxury but she was also grounded and clearly far more realistic than her parents. Ashley sat herself down into a Queen Anne wingback chair, while Beckett and Brennan took a seat on the matching sofa on the opposite side of the polished mahogany coffee table.

'Before we say anything to you,' Brennan asked her, 'how old are you, Ashley?'

'I'm sixteen and if my parents had their way, I'd keep my mouth shut and make it difficult for you to do your jobs. I have every intention of co-operating one-hundred percent with you. Thank you, Ruskin,' she added sweetly when the butler came in with a tray of lemonade and shortbread. 'I know it's not coffee and doughnuts, but I thought you might like something different.'

'You sound like you might have been anticipating us.'

'I was.' Ashley took a plate and put two shortbread snaps on it, ignored the lemonade for the moment. 'I was standing right there when you were on the phone with them and I was so pissed off when they said they were going to get a lawyer just because you wanted to do your jobs and find out who killed Professor Hill. That's where they are right now, by the way. So let's get this done before they come back.'

'Very well.' AS Beckett could appreciate her candor, she inched forward, took a cookie. 'We know you had issues with Professor Hill last year regarding the AP entrance test.'

'Yeah, I did. My nana died and apparently that wasn't exactly a good enough reason for missing the date of the entrance test even though I scored higher on my own test than most of the kids in the class taking it with Hill. He wouldn't let me in to the class and even though my mother tried to pull some strings because she's on the faculty.' Ashley gave them a little shrug. 'I said no and took the class over the summer with Dexter McBride and now I've got time to study more for chemistry and music.'

She sighed, poured lemonade. 'I'm also on school council and was making the rounds for the grade nine classes during the time of the murder. We don't say freshmen since grade numbers are more international. I was in the grammar and literature class when things went down with Hill.'

'Back up just a moment.' Beckett held up a hand. 'Your mother is on the staff at Calliope Thrace?'

'Yeah, her majesty Carolina Witt. She teaches biology and coaches volleyball.'