Electricity

By LMR

Disclaimer: I can't possibly own CI or I would know how all this detective and lawyer stuff works. Obviously, I'm clueless so it follows that it's not mine.

A.N.: Claire has just been sorted into Gryffindor. I already knew she was mighty brave to be wading through this stuff. (But Hufflepuff is still the best :p)

A.N. 2: Thank you, all you lovely reviewer-people!

Chapter 12: Hope

xXx

Office of A.D.A. Carver - Tuesday, July 3 - 11:47 a.m. Doink, doink.

"Where have you been?" Eames wondered.

Carver furrowed his brow. "I went out for lunch. Why?"

She shrugged. "No reason." She folded her arms. "Look, we know it's Audra. Every other suspect is eliminated by one thing or another. She's the only one who possibly could have done it." She explained their reasoning. The fanfiction writer did not want to be redundant, so you just have to go by what Eames and Goren said in the last chapter. If you can't remember, tough noogies for you.

"See?" she concluded. "It can't be any other suspect."

Carver let out a low moan. "First of all, Detectives, I can't go to a judge without probable cause. The elimination of other suspects may put Audra in the limelight, but it's far from conclusive. Secondly, have you forgotten that she has an alibi?"

"A weak one at best," Eames countered. "Drake's her lover. Besides, it gives him an alibi, too. He has every reason to lie about it."

"Can we at least bring them in for questioning as persons of interest?" Goren asked, trying to hide his exasperation.

Of course they could have, but like I said, I don't know that. For all I know, they couldn't be brought before a judge without the official blessing of the Tootaah mystic of Kaulalumpar.

But Carver frowned. "Not good enough, Detectives. Find a way for the two to be considered prime suspects in the murders of Mr. Buck and Miss Kent." Why don't I like that name, anyway? Huh. "Find some evidence or we don't have any hope of bringing this to a judge."

On their way to the SUV, Eames smirked. "Guess we'll have to find them guilty."

Goren grinned. Time to play.

xXx

Home of Drake Simmons Tuesday, July 3 - 1:23 p.m. Doink, doink.

The house was in a beautiful old neighborhood, shaded by long-lived trees and built in a lovely colonial style. Eames wondered briefly how he could afford it on an underwear inspector's salary. Did he save well, invest, live beyond his means? Or had he perhaps expected a large sum of money to come his way?

The detectives meandered up to Drake's garage with an attitude of disinterest. This attitude was oozing out of the other random people on the driveway as well. Why anyone would stop for garage sales, Alex could only guess. Patrons always just frowned as if in concentration at the items. But everyone knew full well that the only thing anyone at a garage sale concentrates on is the complete lack of taste of the proprietor. I guess they provide something in entertainment value, Alex thought.

"Hey Eames, look who it is."

Eames faked a look of pleasant surprise. "Oh, what a coincidence. We were just thinking about you," she said, pointing a finger at Simmons. "Weren't we, Goren?"

"All good thoughts, promise," Goren assured Drake, putting his hands up in a gesture of honesty. Eames glanced at him and gave a fractional nod. "You know, I love yard sales. I'm just going to look around, if that's okay." He didn't wait for an answer before veering off to look at some tacky, saccharine and downright ugly Christmas ornaments from 1987.

"So, Mr. Simmons. I was just wondering... Oh, don't mind him," she waved off her partner. "He's a sucker for that kind of thing. I was wondering if you had a permit for this garage sale?"

Bobby glanced around at the items on the tables that seemed slightly less cheesy than the majority. Somehow, everything (halfway decent) turned into a possible gift for Alex. A picture of horses. Alex likes horses. More ABBA Gold. Alex likes ABBA. He turned the CD case over to look at the tracks. "Angeleyes." Huh. That sounds fam- His train of thought was interrupted when he saw the small picture frame. It was the perfect size. And winding its way up the side was a rose.

It was red.

And only twenty-five cents. No! Robert Goren, you cannot buy something from a murder suspect at an illegal garage sale! Even if it is perfect. Even if it is exactly how I feel. Even if it would mean the world to me to see it next to her sweet words every night before I go to bed.

And even if it's only twenty-five cents.

"I don't, uh, well, see, I asked my neighbors," Simmons stuttered. "They don't mind that I'm selling my little doobie-hickeys. No, I mean doohickeys! He corrected quickly.

"Well, the City of New York does mind. Now, normally we would just charge you a fine. At least fifty, up to a hundred depending how grouchy the judge is feeling today." She paused for effect. "Thing is, being Major Case, we can usually pull a few strings. My partner," she gestured. "Has the most comprehensive-" and weird "list of connections and favors owed that I've ever seen, and I've seen a lot. I think we could convince a judge not to worry about your little flea market if you're a little more cooperative in the Kent/Buck case. I'm assuming, sir, that you want us to find the man or woman who killed your fiancée. Am I wrong about that?" She folded her hands over her chest in an intimidating sort of way.

He swallowed nervously. "What, precisely does this cooperation entail?"

She relaxed her arms again, extending him a reassuringly friendly gesture. "Just come in and talk to us. That's all we need. Give us whatever information you may not have thought of at the factory. Any little detail you can remember."

He looked back at the tables on the driveway and nodded. "Give me half an hour to clean up. I promise I'll show." Eames nodded, then headed to the table where her partner was standing.

"Bobby, he'll be coming in in thirty." She looked down at the table. "Don't tell me any of this stuff actually looks interesting to you?"

"Huh? Oh, no. 'Course not." He set down the object he'd been holding and headed back to the SUV. She caught a look at the thing he'd been looking at and smiled.

It looked like hope.

xXx

Questions to be answered next time:

Should Bobby buy the frame? It isonly twenty five cents, after all.

Are Bobby and Alex going to be able to annoy Audra into coming to the interrogation room? (duh.)

Does anyone care who the killer is? (I don't.)

Please review! You know you wanna.