A/N: So this took a way shorter time and chapter 11 is already underway. As always, thanks for your kind reviews, alerts and favourites 3 - ppp

"Nice flowers. Where did you get them from?"

Quinn's head shot up from her work, slightly startled to find that she was no longer alone in her office. She had been so engrossed in typing up a new proposal that she hadn't heard footsteps.

Hazel eyes latched onto Santana's amused brown, and she paused long enough to give her intruder a warm smile, "I thought you would appreciate them better in my office than in my home."

Taking that as an invitation, Santana pushed herself off the doorframe and walked in to take a seat across Quinn. She hadn't expected the blonde to be around. Fact is she was just looking for a place to crash before her shift started. It would have made no sense to head home, considering that she would have to leave the moment she stepped into her house. So, here she was.

She had been watching Quinn work for a while now. She liked the way Quinn sat, her back ramrod straight, her hair twisted into an elegant bun even though there was no one to watch and comment on her posture. Her fingers flew over keys and every once in a while, she would stop and a faint frown would cross between her eyes. Then the lines would fade and she would start typing again. It was quite fascinating really. Of course, it helped that Quinn was pretty as a picture. She had always been a sucker for pretty things.

Slouching low in her seat, she shot Quinn a lazy, lopsided smile, "That depends on whether I'm invited to your house."

The fingers halted once again but instead of a frown, blonde eyebrows quirked. "Are you flirting with me during office hours, detective? That's unbecoming."

"Technically, it's not office hours for me. I start at seven and it's only six."

Quinn's eyes flicked down to the clock on her desktop and sure enough, the digits on her screen showed 05:58. She groaned. "It's six already? I need to get this out by eight. Go away Santana. You're distracting me."

Okay, so that was not the response she was expecting. "I'm just sitting here!"

"You're a distraction." Quinn repeated firmly as she resumed typing, "What are you doing here so early anyway?"

"The forensics guys kicked me out. I hate Sebastian." Santana scowled, slinking down further in her seat. Quinn wondered if she should ask who Sebestian was but there was something else that was nigging at her. It took her a while to identify what it was, then it hit her.

"Are you pouting?" She grinned.

"No, I'm not!" The bottom lip that had been poking out abruptly drew back in, "I don't pout. I never pout."

"If you say so," Quinn said agreeably then peered closely at Santana's face.

"What are you doing?" The detective shrank back a little, both wary and self-conscious over the scrutiny.

Quinn ignored the question, brushing her thumb against the prominent circles under the detective's eyes. "Did you sleep?"

"Why?"

"You don't look like you've slept. You didn't, did you?" Quinn tutted disapprovingly, patting Santana lightly on the cheek as an admonishment.

"You're in your office at six." Santana pointed out.

"Yeah but I only require four hours of sleep a day."

And that seemed true. Quinn looked fresh as a daisy. Life was so unfair.

"Yeah well, I had work to do."

There was the pout again. I don't pout my ass.

Seeing that a different tactic was needed for this stubborn breed, Quinn shrugged nonchalantly, "And now I need to work so go away. Go sit on the couch. We'll talk later."

Santana glowered at the less than friendly response but acquiesced. Quinn suspected it had a lot to do with how exhausted the detective was rather than an inability to come up with a retort. There were a few intelligible mumbles aimed her way but even that quickly ceased over the next few minutes.

When Quinn turned to check on her companion, she was unsurprised to see Santana sprawled on her front, fast asleep. One side of her face was squished up against the cushion and she had one arm flung over the sofa, her fingers skimming the floor.

She shook her head fondly before returning to her proposal. Truth be told, she was worried for Santana. It seemed she worked a lot, cared too much, gave excessively and took care of herself too little. Working herself to exhaustion was just one example, and then she would be no good to anybody. She made a mental note to ask Puck about Santana's working habits.

She glanced at the clock and figured she could spare a few seconds to close the door, just in case a few of her employees actually started strolling in. It was unlikely but with a big project coming up, she wouldn't be surprised if people came in earlier. Then, she dove back into her work and lost track of time.

It was ten past eight when the door flew open. Rachel burst into the room in song as she usually did, with Puck trailing close behind. It was his turn to pick her up today.

"Good morning, good morning! We've danced the whole night through. Good morning, good morning to youuuu!"

Quinn made an attempt to hush her but it was too late. Santana tumbled off the sofa in a heap of limbs, her eyes wild and her cheek creased but Quinn had to give her points for recovering quickly. She wasn't so sure if points should be given for the gun that was whipped out though, because she was pretty sure that single move raised her blood pressure and shortened her life by a number of years.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Don't shoot! I'm too young too die!" Rachel screamed and cowered where she was standing.

"What the fuck." Santana shoved her hair back from her face, only relaxing after realising who the intruders were.

She slipped her gun back into its holster and the room started breathing again.

"What is wrong with you Santana? Who tries to shoot their friends?" Rachel shrieked, looking completely flustered. She was still waiting for her heart to stop racing. Having a gun aimed at your face was not cool. Sure, she didn't have the prettiest nose but that didn't mean she wanted it blown off her face.

"I wasn't going to shoot," was Santana's non-committed response before she dropped herself back onto the sofa. Her adrenaline was already seeping out of her. "Serves you right for singing that loudly so early in the morning. Fucking loud mouth."

"That's Judy Garland!" Rachel defended, as if it was supposed to make a difference. When no one reacted the way she wanted them to, she rolled her eyes dramatically and bristled, "Judy Garland? From Babes in Arms? It was covered again by Debbie Reynolds, Gene Kelly and Donald O'Conner in Singin' in the Rain?"

At the blank faces, she looked close to suffering a heart attack, "Guys! Singin' in the Rain! You can't not have heard of it! It's a classic! It's a musi—"

"Oh shut it Berry!" Santana scowled as she rubbed her eyes. Maybe she should have gone with her glasses today, seeing how her contacts were freaking drying up her eyes. "You're a classic pain in the ass but you don't hear me singing about it."

"You're just grumpy because we interrupted your sleep."

"I wasn't sleeping!" Santana's hand dropped from her face and she blinked to clear her vision.

"Do you always sleep with your gun on you?"

"I wasn't sleeping. I was just.. thinking." Santana insisted, looking very much like a child who had just been caught stealing from a cookie jar. Quinn wanted to kiss the petulant pout off her face. She found it interesting that all she needed to turn her detective into a pouting mess was a lack of sleep.

Puck snorted, "Yeah. I could hear you thinking all right."

"If that's your way of saying I was snoring, I will end you."

"Oh yeah? Bring it on. I can take a.. Oh you've got a little something, something here by the way." He thumbed the right side of his mouth with a grimace then doubled over in laughter when Santana brought flustered fingers up to check. "Psyched! You totally thought you drooled, didn't you? So much for – Ow!"

Santana had chucked a cushion into his face.

"Shut up. I haven't had my coffee yet and you're –" She caught the time on her watch and turned to fix Quinn with an accusatory stare. "Holy shit! It's past eight? Why didn't you wake me?"

Quinn took her time clicking the "Sent" button on her email page before responding with a sweet smile. "You looked like you could use the sleep. You fell into deep thinking so quickly."

That sent Puck and Rachel into another round of laughter. Quinn let them have their fun for a bit before continuing. Though her eyes never left Santana, it was clear who she was really addressing. "I'm curious about something though. Why were you working so late into the night alone?"

Her tone was a little displeased, and if anyone had any doubts as to the purpose of her question, it was dispelled when she turned a slightly miffed look to Puck.

He caught on quickly and held up two hands to ward of her accusation, "Hey don't look at me! I was on maggot online shopping duty. And you!" He turned to his partner, "You were up all night? Were you doing something behind my back again?"

Quinn frowned and Santana fidgeted.

"Not really. I got some sleep in the bullpen and then here."

"What were you doing in the bullpen in the middle of the night?"

"Going through the videos Quinn sent?" Santana lifted her shoulders up in a shrug and gave her partner a sheepish smile.

"Santana! We were supposed to go through that together!" Puck puffed up his cheeks and blew out a frustrated breath.

"Yeah, I thought I would do that for an hour but then I started listening to Michael Jackson's newest album and I got hooked, and I didn't realise it was so late until it was too late."

Puck made "oooh"ing and "ahhh"ing sounds at her explanation and nodded his head like that made complete sense.

Rachel and Quinn exchanged a look.

"Wait. What? I think I've just missed something here."

Now, it was Puck's turn to look positively scandalised at Rachel's question. "Michael Jackson? King of Pop? You've heard of Judy Gutter but not Mikey?"

"Of course I've heard of Michael Jackson. He's the dead guy and it's Judy Garland to you. But how does that make not sleeping okay?"

"Okay no. Now, that's just plain disrespectful. You can't refer to The Michael Jackson as that dead guy. Dude invented the moonwalk."

"But he is dead! And his music can't possibly be so good as to make you forgo sleep." Rachel scoffed.

And okay, she had a point. The King of Pop's music was good but definitely not that good as to make a person want to forgo sleep but was it really necessary to scoff? Was it appropriate to refer to him as "the dead guy"? No, which was why three hours later, Rachel found herself still a captive audience to Xscape. It had started in Quinn's office, then in the car (damn Spotify and audio jacks!), and now on set, where they were waiting for the cameras to be set up.

"This is crazy. Can't you get them to stop? Technically, you're Puck's boss." She whined to Quinn, who was busy replying her emails on her Ipad.

"Hmmm? But I'm enjoying the music and so is the crew." And that was true. Many of the crewmembers were bopping their heads or twitching their asses to the beat as they went about their work. "It's very catchy and addictive, don't you think?"

Rachel scoffed again, the very same scoff that had landed her into this audio torture fix in the first place. Quinn would have expected her to learn from it by now, considering the amount of complaining that she had been doing. "Are you enjoying the music or the view?" Rachel glanced deliberately over to where Santana and Puck were attempting to do a moonwalk.

Quinn followed her eye line and smiled appreciatively at Santana doing the dougie to Love Never Felt So Good while lip-synching to the song. She was being quite enthusiastic about it. How endearing was that. "All the more reason for me not to change the music. You're not helping your case here, Rachel."

Quinn ignored her friend's annoyed huff. "What was Santana like in your band?"

After a few seconds of contemplation, Rachel answered with a glint in her eye. "Wild. She bought me my first strip dance."

Quinn's eyes widened.

"Said I had to live a little. You should get her to sing for you. She has a good voice."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Not as good as mine of course but still, she has that raspy thing going on that makes it perfect for when we cover Amy Winehouse songs. She's a decent enough rapper too."

"You covered rap songs?" Quinn asked incredulously. She found that harder to believe than Santana rapping, though the idea of Santana rapping was a little… dare she say, arousing.

Her friend shrugged. "I wasn't the only one in the band. And when you have Brittany and Santana in the same band, you're bound to have to do some hip-hop."

"That doesn't sound like a police-in-the-making."

"Yeah, I was a little surprised when she applied to the NYPD." Rachel admitted, "She used to be a hardcore cheerleader you know?"

Quinn almost spat out the mouthful of water she had in her mouth. "What?" She croaked, turning to stare at Santana in disbelief.

"Yeah, hard to believe right? She's one of the least cheerful people I've ever met." So, that was not what Quinn had meant. Girl was cheerful enough around her. "But I heard she was good. Good enough to get a full scholarship ride to NYU. Britt said it was the first time in forever that NYU's squad got into the finals for some... girl stunt thing. Hey you used to be a cheerleader too right? And you're the same age. You've never heard of all these?"

"Only that the girl stunt thing you mentioned is really more known as the Girls "4" Partner Stunt. Rachel, the only time I did cheerleading was in high school and that was just to please my dad. You know I didn't keep up with it in Yale."

"Oh right. Santana doesn't like to mention how she used to be a cheerleader too."

"I can understand why." Quinn grinned mischievously, already thinking up ways to tease the detective about her extracurricular activities. "So that explains why she's so flexible."

Rachel's face immediately scrunched up in disgust. "Okay. No. We're done. Go back to your work."

But Quinn didn't want to go back to her work, not when she spotted Santana sauntering over to her.

She set aside her Ipad and put on her best cheerleading smile to greet the woman. Time to test how much of a cheerleader Santana really was.

"I'm sexy, I'm cute! I'm popular to boot! I'm bitchin'. Great hair! The boys all love to stare!"

"Errrr – " Santana looked from Quinn to Rachel, then back, utterly confused. She didn't know where this was coming from but the rhyme sounded vaguely familiar.

"I'm wanted, I'm hot. I'm everything you're not!"

"Hey! I'm hot too y – "

"I'm pretty, I'm cool! I dominate this school!"

Finally getting where this was coming from, Santana aimed a frigid glare at Rachel just as Quinn started laughing. "You told her!"

"Quinn was a cheerleader too!"

"I can't believe you told her!"

"Does no one want to finish listening to my cheer?" Quinn interrupted, pretending to be offended.

"It's hardly your cheer when you're just tossing out lines from Bring It On." Santana sneered but she couldn't resist flicking Quinn on the chin just so she could touch her. "I can't believe you watched Bring It On."

"I can't believe you watched Bring It On?"

Santana groaned, pulling a chair over so she could sit too. "I was a cheerleader. I had no choice but to watch Bring It On."

"I was a cheerleader. I had no choice but to watch Bring It On." Quinn repeated.

Next to them, Rachel rolled her eyes at the way they were grinning at each other like idiots and getting lost in each other's eyes. One was her abusive college friend and the other was her sometimes-abusive boss. And here they were, gazing at each other like the sweetest things ever. She almost forgot how abusive they could be. Almost.

"Okay. I'm going to leave you two here to eye-fuck each other –"

"We are not eye-fucking."

"How crude."

"You really should stay away from Puckerman."

"What would the media say about darling Rachel Berry using the f-word?"

And of course, they would be unanimous in ganging up against her. She just hoped they wouldn't unite in heaping abuse upon her. One of them at a time was enough stimulation for her brain, thank you very much, not that she would ever admit how much she actually enjoyed their verbal exchanges despite her constant grumbling. She was 75% certain they felt the same way about her.

"I don't think I like you two together very much," was her departing remark but of course, her smile told a different tale. She had a feeling she could get used to the coupling and in her head, she decided on the name Quinntana. She liked that it had quite a nice rhyme to it. Maybe she could even come up with some cheer lyrics to go with the name. Yeah, that was a good idea, she nodded before immersing herself completely in her role as Galadriel when the cameras rolled.

The moment their shift ended, Santana immediately headed to the washroom to change out of her uniform and into her preferred attire of shirt and pants. She was getting used to her uniform but it still had nothing on her shirt and pants in terms of comfort. Especially the shoes.

Smith and Davidson had earlier on reported their findings and had managed to come up with a short list of people who had bought twenty or more boxes of Godiva gift chocolates within the past week. Puck and her would be working off that list for the rest of the day.

"Quinn, what are you doing here?" Santana asked in surprise when she exited the cubicle and saw the businesswoman leaning against the sink with her arms crossed. The blonde had obviously been waiting for her.

"Don't look so surprised." Quinn crossed over to help carry Santana's load so she could wash her hands. "The toilet is the only place where I can kiss you before you go."

She indulged in a laugh when Santana's hands fumbled over the tap. "You want to.. What? Here?"

"Come here."

"What if someone comes in?"

Quinn rolled her eyes when Santana started looking around and went to her instead. "I've locked the door. And the crew is mostly male."

"But –"

Quinn shut her up with a kiss, barely skimming lips before she pulled away. "Unless you don't want a goodbye kiss?" She challenged.

"I was just going to say my hands are still wet." Santana grinned, holding up her hands to prove her point.

"You're lucky I have no phobia of water." She leaned in for another kiss, this time letting it linger, and was glad to see Santana's eyes close in pleasure. "That's for yesterday's flowers. And this.." She pressed in again, dipping her tongue into Santana's welcoming mouth and took her time savouring. She bit, sucked, released, threading her fingers into thick, black hair so as to deepen the kiss.

In turn, she felt cool, damp hands slip behind her neck, pulling her forward so their bodies were pressed together. Santana wasn't kidding when she said her hands were wet. She shivered when she felt a cold bead of water trail down from her neck to her back. Their breaths mingled, their tongues caressed and though they kissed passionately, they were gentle. The pace Quinn had set was torturously slow and when kisses turned to nibbles down her neck, Santana was forced to pull away.

"Stop." Her voice was husky from lack of air and her cheeks were flushed. She chuckled. "Stop." She said again, more for herself than for Quinn. "If we continue, I'm going to…come undone."

"Come undone?" Quinn laughed at the woman's choice of words, "Okay. So I take it you're happy with your goodbye kiss?"

Santana groaned and leaned in to steal another peck, "Yes. Very. Do I get daily kisses like that if I buy you flowers everyday?" She let her arms drop to rest on Quinn's hips.

"I think there's a law against bribery."

"I'm pretty sure it doesn't count as bribery."

"And I'm pretty sure you don't need to buy me flowers just so I will kiss you."

"You're sweet," Santana giggled, then tipped a kiss to the cute nose in front of her, "And I'm glad because I'm pretty sure I'll go broke if I had to do that."

They both jumped when Santana's phone started ringing.

"Sorry, have to get that." She pulled out her police issue, taking Quinn's hand in hers when the latter hugged her from the back. "Detective Lopez."

"Hello? Is this Detective Lopez?" A nasal voice with an extremely strong Valley accent spoke into the receiver.

Wasn't that exactly what she had just said?

"Yeah."

The voice brightened, "Hi! I'm Angel Cameron from Godiva! My manager said there was an Officer Smith yesterday who was looking for clues for some crime investigation? He said to call this number if anyone of us remembers anything?"

"And do you?"

There was a short pause. "Do I what?"

Santana rubbed the bridge of her nose, "Do you remember anything?"

"Oh! Yeah, that's why I'm calling duh. I do so totally remember."

"Ok so what do you remember?"

"The boss says to try to remember if there was any customer who bought like a lot of boxes and who paid by cash. I remember that."

Santana stiffened a little. "Great. My partner and I will be over right away. You'll still be there in half an hour right?"

"Yeah duh, as much as I want to leave now."

"Ok. Which branch are you at?"

She listened closely to Angel rattling off her address, thanked her then hung up.

"Clue?"

"Maybe. Can't be sure till we get there. She sounded a little.. bimbotic." Santana scrunched up her nose in distaste and yelped when Quinn gave her a pinch on the arm.

"Don't be judgemental."

"I'm not. I'm just saying it as it is. I'm not saying she is bimbotic. I'm just saying she sounded bimbotic. There is a difference."

"If you say so." Quinn gave Santana one last peck on the cheek before releasing her hold on her. "Stay safe detective." She said then watched Santana leave with a sigh. It was getting increasingly hard to see her go.

Twenty minutes later, Santana and Puck strolled into the empty Godiva Chocolatier outlet on Lexington Avenue. She looked around the store and within three seconds, spotted her caller behind the cashier.

The girl was probably in her late teens or early twenties. She had pink-streaked blonde hair and heavily-lined eyes. Judging by the way she was leaning over the cashier till with a nail file, she was also obviously incredibly bored.

"Angel Cameron?" Santana approached the girl and flipped her badge out, "I'm Detective Lopez. This is my partner, Detective Puckerman. I'm answering a call that you made about half and hour ago."

"Oh hey hello!" Angel straightened up with some excitement and hastily put aside her nail file. She was clearly glad for the distraction. "I'm so glad you came! I've information!"

"I'm glad you do." Puck smiled, "Not many people are observant about their surroundings."

"Well I totally am! Nicki said there was a cute policeman who came in yesterday night. He wanted to know if there was like anybody who paid for twenty boxes of chocolates in cash. I was hoping to see him you know, the cute policeman Nicki talked about? But you're pretty cute too!" Angel eyed Puck blatantly and Santana had to mask her laugh behind a cough. Beside her, Puck fidgeted, the tip of his ears turning a fiery red, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. And wasn't that a first? Santana thought with sadistic amusement.

Just by the fact that Angel had said Smith and Puck were cute, she was going to take this girl's statement with a pinch of salt. No, make that a huge dollop of salt because well.. okay fine, she could see why girls would find Puck cute but Smith? Seriously, Smith?

Seeing that Angel could possibly start molesting her partner if she didn't intervene, Santana cleared her throat to bring attention back to her, "So, what do you remember about this guy?"

Angel reluctantly tore her eyes away from Puck's biceps, "What guy?"

Santana wanted to roll her eyes but she managed to refrain herself from doing so. "Have there been customers who have bought twenty or more boxes of gift chocolates within the past week?"

"Oh yeah, there was. That's why I called you, didn't I?" Angel twirled a clump of bubblegum pink hair around the finger, looking a little annoyed. Santana wanted to snip off that irritating chunk of hair, or better still, rip it off. Who even dyed their hair pink? Why would anyone do that? First, you had to bleach your hair because this chick was obviously a born brunette and everyone knew how that dried your hair like nobody's business. Then, you had to actually maintain the look because the colour leaked out so easily. And then.. okay no, she had to stop detracting.

"So, this guy paid by cash?"

"Yes." Angel nodded firmly, sending Puck what she must have thought was a smouldering stare. Fact is, she just looked bug-eyed. Santana wondered if Angel would appreciate her honesty.

"I remember because I thought he would tip me you know, considering how he was ogling at my boobs and all." Santana looked down to find no boobs but decided Angel would definitely not appreciate that. "But he didn't! Fucker bought over a thousand dollars of chocolates and refused to even tip me a dollar? Would it be so painful just to give me a dollar? A miserly, pathetic dollar?"

Yeah, actually it would be, considering how grating her voice was but again, Santana kept that to herself. Instead, she went with, "Can you remember how he looked like?"

"Well yeah!" Angel perked up. "He had like short hair and he was white."

They smiled at each other, and when Santana realised there was no more information forthcoming, her smile wavered.

Ok so great. That eliminated about 30% of the population, which left them with about 3 million people.

Sensing her bad temper, Puck stepped in, "How tall was he?"

"Hmmm. I'll say about your height, handsome."

Puck tried not to cringe. He liked women in general but adolescent girls who were not yet legal? Not really his thing. "Do you remember what he was wearing?"

"Oh yeah. I thought he was a celebrity at first you know? Because of the shades and the cap. And he was so cute!"

"You could tell he was cute behind the shades and the cap?"

"Well yeah. Not everyone looks super good in shades and a cap you know?"

Puck decided not to argue. "So I'm taking it he was in good shape?"

"Oh yeah! He's super fit!" Angel gave Puck's body an appreciative once over, "Kinda like you actually."

"Er right. And what was he wearing?"

"T-shirt and jeans."

"Any brands that you remember?"

"Hmmm. No but his ass looked super tight in those jeans."

Great. Another dead-end there. Deciding they had gotten everything they could get out of Angel, Santana figured it was time to end this useless interview and move on. At least, now they knew their guy was fit and tall. That brought the number down to about a million assuming that it was really their guy. "Do you have surveillance cameras here?"

"Yeah!" Angel pointed out the cameras at the corners of the store.

"Could we get copies of the.. Wait. Do you remember what day this was?"

"Let's see," Angel pursed her lips in thought, "It was the day I had a really bad hangover so that's.. Party was on Saturday.. then I went to.. Monday! It was a Monday!"

"Are you certain?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure."

"Cool." Santana made a note in her book, "And would you be able to give us access to the surveillance tapes?"

Angel bit her lip as she glanced at the cameras, "Er I don't know how to. You'll have to ask the manager."

"And is he around?"

"Nope!" Angel said, popping the p and looking way too cheerful for the same reason, "Boss is out today!"

"Is there anyone we can talk to?"

"I dunno." Angel shrugged. "You can call the HQ I guess. Someone has to help you. You're the police, aren't you?"

If only it was that easy.

"So did I do good? Did I help?" Angel asked, looking so hopeful that Santana didn't have the heart to say no.

Godiva's headquarters was only a fifteen-minute drive away and they had been cleared quickly enough. After relaying what they needed, they were brought up to a swanky office, where they now sat waiting for someone named Biff McIntosh, supposed heir to all the boutiques in the United States.

He kept them waiting for fifteen minutes and just as Santana decided that she had had it, the door swung open, revealing a strikingly handsome man decked out in a tailored suit: chiselled jaw, piercing blue peepers and thick, cropped hair that was combed back. She gauged him to be about Puck's height and when they stood to greet him, she saw that she was right.

"Detectives, I'm sorry to keep you waiting." He offered a hand, and a firm, businesslike handshake. Strong grip, Santana noted and interested eyes, she narrowed hers in turn when his lingered on her face a little longer than was deemed appropriate or just friendly. Douche. "I was caught up in a meeting. Came up as soon as I could. Please, sit."

He stepped around them and eased himself onto the big armchair behind the U-shaped table. "How can I help you?"

"We need access to your surveillance tapes for your boutique on Lexington Avenue, specifically, the 18th of August."

"And may I ask what the tapes are to be used for?"

"You may but I can't tell you the reason exactly, just that it would greatly help in our investigation.

"And which department are you from, Detective…"

"Sorry, where are our manners. I'm Detective Lopez from the homicide department and this is my partner, Detective Puckerman."

"No first name?" Biff grinned, his perfect, white teeth flashing and Santana had an urge to punch him in the face.

"Detectives Santana Lopez and Noah Puckerman." She made sure to include Puck even though it was clear who Biff was really interested in. Douche, she thought again.

He leaned back and studied them both, "Homicide huh? Does this involve the reputation of my company?"

Not his father's company but his. And there was no concern whatsoever for his employees. What a jerk.

"Not that we know of but I can assure you that everything you give us will remain confidential."

"Then I see no problem. Give me a moment. This shouldn't take long."

He picked up the phone on the table and dialled a number. It took about three rings for the recipient to pick up.

"Kenneth, this is McInTosh. Get me the surveillance tape for the 18th of August, Lexington branch. I'm in my office. Do it fast."

No Ps and Qs were exchanged throughout the conversation. And she thought she was rude.

"Now if you'll just wait five minutes." Biff smiled pleasantly at his guests, "Meanwhile, is there anything else you need?"

Santana forced a smile, "No thanks. We're good."

The phone rang and Biff held up an apologetic finger as he answered the call. "McIntosh." He said his name all important-like. "What? What do mean we don't have it?"

Puck and Santana exchanged a worried look.

"You think the cameras were spoiled? I didn't hire you to speculate. I hired you to know. So, now you're sure they're spoiled. Then why weren't they fixed?" Biff demanded, the anger in his voice barely restrained. "I don't care whose job it is. You're the head of security, which makes it your job. You're fired. Get me Ricker on the line."

Another pause.

"Now. I said now, Kenneth. You're done."

There was a few seconds pause in which Santana assumed was the line being passed.

"Ricker? Congratulations. You've just been promoted to head of security. Get the cameras checked out on Lexington. And while you're at it, make sure the ones at the other stores are working too."

Then, he hung up.

"Sorry Detectives," Biff shook his head apologetically, as if he had not just fired his head of security in front of two strangers, "I think you overheard my conversation with my employee but we don't have a record for Lexington on that day. Apparently, the cameras malfunctioned."

"They malfunctioned on that day?"

"They've malfunctioned since that day." Biff corrected, leaning back into the embrace of his chair and folding his hands on his stomach, "So as much as I would like to help you, I can't."

"Would it be possible to find out the time it malfunctioned?"

Biff frowned, looking a little annoyed. "I supposed a quick call would do it."

He sighed, picked up the phone again and dialled. "Ricker. Give me the last seen record of Lexington." There was a short wait, some hums of approval and then Biff's answer.

"7.52pm detectives. And Ricker told me something that should interest you: It appears the system wires were cut."

Disclaimer: The cheer that Quinn did in the middle of the chapter was from Bring It On. Love that show!