AN: This is the second chapter I have posted today. So if you haven't read the first one yet, go back! Thanks for reading!

Eddie was sitting in Joe's office when Morelli got to the station. Around him on the floor were old case files of Joe's. He looked like he was sleeping with his eyes open. He didn't even acknowledge Joe when he walked in. Joe turned on the coffee maker in his office, and Eddie snapped out of his trance.

"Shit. What time is it?" Eddie asked

"7:00," Joe said, "Go home man."

"I can't," Eddie said. "This is pissing me off."

"What is pissing you off?"

"The decoys," Eddie said. "If Brasseau used them as cover to get Molly out of here, then why hasn't he made a move yet? If he's desperate enough to kill two people to fake Molly's death, then I really don't see him respecting a restraining order, do you?"

"It doesn't seem likely," Joe said. "Which is why Molly doesn't go anywhere without a bodyguard, there are units on the street outside of our house at night, and Ranger has people patrolling the neighborhood. But as it happens, there's a reason why we haven't heard from Brasseau. He's in court-ordered rehab. He's being forced to accept the restraining order."

"How the fuck is that possible? Seriously? The Feds would know by now. He'd be under arrest."

"I don't know," Joe said. "I got this information from someone who lives in his building."

"That scares me," Eddie said. "We still don't know how he was able to track her, just that he was. I've been through everything Ranger gave us, and it freaks me out that everything points to him having access to her phone but that even Ranger's guys have no idea how. And now this? Who the hell is this guy."

"She's using a secure phone now," Joe said. "Explain to me why my office is a mess?"

"The files represent everyone you've arrested who was either out of prison, or on bail, when the store blew up. I thought maybe it was done to distract you. Even after you knew Molly was alive, you were really fucking out of it. We were all pretty single-minded right after."

"Why did you decide you were going to look into this?"

"There's no way to tie Lucien to the bomb, and Lutz categorically denies ever seeing him before. They can't tie him to the assaults of her dates, and while he was at the stadium, and we know he approached her, it's her word against his about what he said. Any halfway decent lawyer is going to point out that we don't know what he said to the guys who tried to push her down the stairs. He could have been telling them to fuck off, for all we know. Basically, he's done a good job of being a dickhead, without leaving us anything to bust him on. The Feebs think that the best approach to getting him off of the streets is to attack it from the White Collar angle. They've got more than enough to put him away for a while, but I'm worried about him getting out early on good behavior. That'll be less likely if he's put away for something violent."

"I might have something. Did anyone ever give Lutz's description of his French friend to Molly?" Joe asked.

"I dunno," Eddie said. "I didn't, but then I didn't question Molly beyond the day of the fire. That was your pal Kody."

"Do you have a transcript of that interview?" Joe asked. Eddie rifled through the files around the desk and pulled it out.

"He asks her if she and Lucien ever associated with someone named Claude, and she said that a friend's girlfriend for about a minute was called Claude, but other than that, not really. He gave the description of Claude as tall, blonde, caucasian. She said that Lucien occasionally likes to be blonde and that her friend Max has light brown hair that sometimes looks blonde. Kody showed a picture of Max to Lutz and Lutz said no."

"That's the second time Max has come up," Joe said.

"Yes, it is," Eddie said, "But it wasn't him."

"Kody should have quoted Lutz's description to Molly," Joe said. He'd printed a copy of the picture Molly had shown him online and dropped it on the table in front of Eddie. "His name is Pierre Lucas, and she didn't think of him until now because he dropped off of her radar in University."

"Holy shit, that's him. That has to be him. Why did he come up now?"

"She ran into Maggie on the weekend," Joe said.

"Midas Maggie? What the hell was that like?"

"Well she can drink a magnum of champagne without acting drunk, and it turns out someone paid off her housekeeper to intercept Molly's calls. And someone forged Molly's handwriting to produce something that could have passed for a suicide note. I think Molly got on that cruise at exactly the right time. I think if she'd stayed in New York a day longer, if we ever heard of Molly at all, it would be in the context of Lester's dead little sister."

"How does Maggie connect to Lucas?" Eddie asked.

"Maggie's fiancé figured that the way Lucien was acting, was over Molly's engagement ring. Brasseau bought it in a junk shop, and it turned out to be worth a fortune. Lucas appraised the ring for their insurance. Molly was allowed to keep it, and apparently, Brasseau fought her over it, but it was the only thing the judge let Molly win. And he didn't go for the appraised value, he went for the ticket value when Brasseau purchased it."

"No he didn't," Eddie said. "I have been through those court transcripts and documents so many times I can recite them in their entirety, and there's nothing about a ring."

"There's nothing in any of the documents about it?"

"No, nothing," Eddie said.

Joe picked up his desk phone and made a call to someone he knew at Interpol and had them run Pierre Lucas through their databases. Eddie studied the picture for a few minutes, and then picked up the insurance form, and the brief history of the ring that Joe gave him.

"This is about an engagement ring?" Eddie said. "Seriously?"

"A fucking ugly one too. The one I gave Molly is better. I mean it's not a few centuries old, or worth the same as my house, but it's pretty, and it suits her."

"I'm sorry, what?" Eddie said.

"The engagement ring I gave Molly suits her more. For one it doesn't look like a Super Bowl ring on her, and for another, it has flowers on it. Molly likes flowers."

Eddie was about to say something when Joe's desk phone rang. "That was fast," Joe said when his Interpol contact's name showed up on the caller ID.

"We're talking about this more, later," Eddie said.

"Yeah, yeah," Joe said. He picked up the phone and listened for a few minutes while his friend spoke and then hung up.

"What?" Eddie said.

"Pierre Lucas is an alias," Joe said.

"For who?"

"No idea," Joe said, "All I know is that it's not his real name."

"Why?"

"My contact looked up Pierre Lucas in his system in connection with Molly's school, and discovered that on paper the exact same Pierre Lucas that was living at the boarding school with Molly and her friends, was also enrolled in, and attending classes, at Eaton."

"What?"

"And after high school, he went to Harvard, not LMU," Joe said. "LMU says there's no record of him anywhere in their systems. Interpol is going to run the picture through aging software before they put it into facial recognition."

"What does Molly say about him?" Eddie asked.

"She said that after high school he popped into their lives sporadically, but he was an afterthought," Joe said. "Which is the type of guy who could easily become a stalker. Especially if he's used to getting what he wants."

"Did she say anything else about him?"

"His family is loaded and owns an art gallery in Paris," Joe said. "She couldn't remember the name of the gallery. The real Pierre Lucas's mother and father were married just after the merger of the two biggest aeronautics companies in France and have no interest in art."

"So which art gallery is it?"

"Right, because that's possible to figure out. There have to be hundreds of galleries in Paris, and Pierre is probably the most popular name in France. Assuming he was telling the truth about his first name and what his parents did, it probably wouldn't be their only source of income. So I'd have to ask Interpol to send me the records of anyone rich, living in France, with a son named Pierre, and contributes to or owns an art gallery. You'd be able to hear the laughter all the way across the Atlantic."

"How come she's never brought him up before?"

"From the sounds of this guy, he was the sort of friend you naturally outgrow. How many people did we hang out with in High School that we never speak to now? If someone were to come after you, would you put someone like say Danny Cartaway on your list of suspects? He hung out with us all of the fucking time, but I haven't seen him since graduation."

"Neither have I," Eddie said. "You proposed?"

"Yep," Joe said, "My family has lost their minds."

"How is Molly handling it?" Eddie asked.

"She's rolling with it. Bella tried to curse her yesterday."

"What did Molly say?"

"She taught Bella how to make mayonnaise."

Eddie grinned, "So not afraid of Bella?"

"Apparently Molly had a crazy old man who lived outside her place in Munich. She says that after having threats of Armageddon being brought down on your head, screamed at you in German, it takes a little more than a bored little old lady pretending to curse you in Latin, to scare you."

Eddie grinned, "She's braver than I am. Have you told her family?"

"She called them on Thursday while she was waiting for me to get off work. She's telling Lester today. And before you ask, I'm going to tell Stephanie today. I'm going to see if she wants to meet for lunch."

"Or you can tell her now. She's got a drop-off," Eddie said. "And she's covered in glitter."

"How's the other guy look?"

"Feathers," Eddie said. Joe grinned and went to check it out.

Stephanie was in the parking lot at intake, shaking glitter out of her hair, looking like she had been followed around by pixie on meth.

"If we were still together, I'd be forced to make a comment about cupcakes and sprinkles," Joe said.

"Save it, Morelli," she said, "This crap is like herpes; I will have glitter for the rest of my life."

"What happened?"

"He decided to bolt through a craft store, and he dumped it on my head."

"That doesn't explain why he's covered in feathers."

"Some old ladies were doing a crafting lesson, and they decided to take him down for me with whatever they had on hand."

He stepped back when she shook out more glitter. "I thought you weren't doing skip tracing anymore?" Joe asked.

"He's high-bond, and Les Seebring kicked him over to us. Burrows wouldn't take him because he is too boring. Ranger likes money, and wasn't concerned so much with being bored," she coughed and blew out a sigh, "It probably says something about my life that we have a shop vac at home that only gets used to get random loose substances off of me."

"Want a doughnut?"

"You have some?"

"We're at a police station, Cupcake. If there aren't doughnuts, it means there's a nationwide shortage."

"I'm going to get glitter everywhere."

"There are worse things on nearly every surface in here."

"Not on the doughnuts though, right?"

"The doughnuts are clean."

"You're buttering me up for something."

"Yep."

"How many doughnuts am I going to need for this?"

They walked by the intake desk, and Joe grabbed a box that still had most of its doughnuts. He handed it to her.

"Oh Boy," she said.

Joe led her to an interview room, and she sat down on the sofa sending a cloud of sparkles into the air. "Why aren't you taking me to your office?"

"Because I don't want glitter all over my office."

"That's fair. I look like I got attacked by Guy Diamond."

"Who?"

"The Troll from the movie that farts glitter."

"Haven't seen it," Joe said.

"Julie put it on, and now Lunch Box is obsessed."

"Lunch Box?"

"Ranger's cockatoo. He actually does a fairly decent impersonation of Justin Timberlake."

"I don't really want to know about what tricks Ranger's cockatoo is capable of. What happens in the bedroom is between you two."

"You're an idiot."

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she fished it out. "Oh boy," she said again.

"What?"

"Lester was supposed to ride with me today, but he's on another Time Out."

"Does that happen a lot?"

"Only when Molly does something to remind him that she has sex."

"Uh oh," Joe said.

"What Uh oh?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"I think I know why he's in Time Out," he said with an abashed grin. He rubbed his neck and laughed softly.

"Tell me you didn't peek down her top at her bra while he was watching you?"

"I proposed to her the day I got this promotion."

"What day was that?"

"Last Thursday," he said, "I was feeling lucky."

"And she said no, because it's way too fast, and now you've freaked her out."

"She said yes, and then cooked enough food to feed every Morelli in Trenton for Sunday Football at our place."

She stared at him for a long time and then opened her mouth to say something. Joe reacted swiftly and crammed a Boston Creme in it before she could comment. "No. You don't get to speak unless it's to say congratulations. I know exactly what you're thinking, and you're wrong. We aren't rushing this, and even if we are, it's actually none of your business."

Someone knocked on the door and opened it.

"Yo Morelli," a uniform said, "There's apparently a lot of cars backed up around Tina's bridal. Costanza says we're going to want someone directing traffic. He thought you might want to check it out, in case there's a problem."

"I'm on my way," Joe said. He looked at Stephanie, "Want to come or are you going to sit here and finish eating the box of doughnuts?"

She swallowed a chunk of pastry, "Why are you going to check it out?"

"Molly's new store shares a parking lot with the bridal shop."

She picked up the box of doughnuts and followed him out. "I'll take my own car," she said.

Joe put on his kojack light as he got into the traffic. He was able to get through it to Molly's work and parked next to Molly's car. A Rangeman strolled over.

"What?" Joe asked when he'd opened the door.

"She's trending on Twitter and Instagram."

Joe got out and went to the door. Molly was standing by a display case, taking some flowers out of a vase and replacing them with something else. She caught his eye and beamed. He waited until she was finished, and he walked over to kiss her, hello.

"You're stopping traffic," he said.

"That you're surprised isn't really all that flattering, Detective."

"If you were wearing those boots you wore last Tuesday, it would be no surprise, but you're wearing Crocs."

"My heel broke," she said, "Your mother's on her way over with different shoes."

"Is this normal? Can I retire early and be a kept man?" He asked.

"It's crazy," she said, shaking her head, "Maggie is in my office. She has some books you might want to look at."

"Books?" he asked.

"I have a fan," she said.

"More than one," Joe said. He kissed her again, and he went into the office. Maggie handed him the books. "What are these?"

"Art texts written by a man named Perkin Porkin. I know it sounds like a porn name, but that's the guy's name. He's an expert on contemporary art, and he's an artist himself. He's had several exhibits at MoMA, and he has an eye for picking out major talent. Our favorite florist caught his attention in New York. He was a regular customer of hers, and she had no idea who he was."

"Do you?"

"Yeah," she said, "He's a creepy son of a bitch, but seriously gifted. I didn't know he was one of her customers until today. Anyway, he's written several academic articles on our girl, and he doesn't just stick to flowers."

Joe was flipping through the stack of books, and he came to one called, Elements of Modern Architecture.

"She was an architect for like what? A minute?" Joe asked.

"Yeah," Maggie said, "It's how I met her. She worked for this firm, mostly designing parking garages for shopping malls and stuff like that. Anyway daddy was working on a project, and I needed a cigarette, and it was colder than a polar bear's frostbitten ass outside. I saw her name on her office door, figured she might be European enough that she might not give a rat's behind if I smoked out of her window. She didn't give a damn."

"You're colorful aren't you?" he said.

"I'm really, really, really rich; it's almost expected," she said dryly. "Actually come outside with me. I need a cigarette, and she would kill me if I did it in here. She'd probably do it with some poisonous flower or something."

Joe chuckled and followed Maggie out back.

"You're telling me why she's in here?" he tapped the book.

"Because this guy, Perkin, is obsessed with her work," she said around her cigarette, as she lit it. She blew out a stream of smoke and smiled happily, enjoying the moment. "Anyways, the day I met Molly her computer was down. She had nothing to do, and IT was dragging its knuckles downstairs. Molly doesn't do bored. When Molly thinks she might get bored, she gets creative. She has to do something, so she had this book of designs, that she called the What If, Book. What if Money were no object? What if your client wasn't a pain in the ass and would let you do whatever the hell you wanted? What if you could redesign the Empire State Building? That sort of crap. She didn't just do random sketches, she went through the whole process. She had floor plans, materials lists, cost, you name it."

"There is only one way a fantasy should be that anal," Joe said. "And that ain't it."

Maggie grinned. "Want a good time? Ask Molly how much fun she can be when she gets detail oriented like that. You're going to need to block off a good twenty-four hours. Count on half of that being for recovery. Why do you think Lucien is trying to keep her in reserve?"

Joe returned her grin, "I'll keep it in mind. I think we're getting sidetracked here."

"Sorry, you're hot, and Molly wouldn't be with you if you weren't gifted in the sack. She likes sex too much for it not to be a big part of the relationship. Anyways, everything she designed when she worked for the firm, belonged to the firm, that included her what-if designs."

"Okay," Joe said.

"Six months before her wedding to numbnuts, Perkin Porkin bought those designs."

Joe grinned, and Maggie paused, thinking about that.

"Oh my God, I'm not going to be able to think about this with a straight face now. Perkin Porkin bought Molly's anal fantasies. Now he really sounds like a Porn Star. Like in some nasty porn about corporate takeovers."

Maggie gave herself a shake that was sort of like a grimace.

"There is an entire chapter in there about Molly," she tapped the book. "Read it. It makes her sound like a combination of Frank Lloyd Wright and Rembrandt."

"How good was she as an architect?"

"She was good, but an average sort of good. She's better at the flowers," Maggie said, taking a long drag on her cigarette. "Some of that stuff is inspired, but completely unfeasible. Even if you had zero budget."

"Okay, I'll read it and look up… Perkin."

"Look, Molly said she doesn't want me releasing the hounds on Lucien just yet. But I have dreams about public castration when it comes to him. Molly has always been like she is in there, but it was real. That's a fucking act and a good one, but it's not her. The real Molly would never have come into the office and said, 'I'm just a florist' there was not an ounce of cynicism in her body. It's what was so cool about her. She knew who and what she was and if you didn't like her, she really didn't give a damn. She didn't have time for bullshit and drama. I watched Lucian take her, and systematically break her. On her last day in court she spent hours agonizing about what to wear, she stopped participating in her defense, and I know it was a divorce, but it was like she had to defend every choice she made in her life ever, only to be told how wrong she was to make it, each and every time. If he hadn't done what he did, I wouldn't have spent the last two years looking for her. She would never have accepted that I would just leave her because she lost. I know her, and she wouldn't be telling me to back off unless you're telling her to be careful. I like you, and I can tell how much she loves you, but she was mine first, and I need to know why I can't go after the bastard."

"Because Ranger and I think there's more to this than just Lucien being an asshole. We want to get to the bottom of it. We don't need private investigators getting in the way."

"I have more money than God, honey. Spare no expense. If there's something that would go faster through a private lab, a piece of equipment you need, just say the word and you'll have it. I will pull every string I have."

"I'll keep it in mind."

Molly came out back and looked longingly at the cigarette Maggie was holding. "Absolutely not," Maggie said. "No way. Under no circumstances."

"God I miss it," Molly said.

"Yeah but you quit because you got pneumonia twice in one winter."

"I know," Molly said, "But I still miss it."

"I know," Maggie said, "I would too if I ever had to give it up."

"Shouldn't you be working? Aren't I your boss?"

"I'm volunteering," Maggie dropped her cigarette and ground it out. "Okay, I'm going back to work. You're making a killing today by the way. Von G never had a day like this. I'm on the phone to suppliers attempting to get you emergency stock."

"Is it a problem?" Molly asked.

"Nothing I can't throw money at to fix," Maggie said. "It's what I'm good at."

"How artificial are these numbers?" Molly asked.

"Very," Maggie said. "I think in reality you're going to be looking at numbers more like your second year of Von G. When you were popular but hadn't done the Met Gala yet. I think if you want those numbers again, you have to open another store in New York and you don't have the dough for that yet."

"I can live with that," Molly said. "I was spread way too thin towards the end."

"The money was nice though," Maggie said.

She squeezed Molly's shoulder and was about to go inside and happened to look down. Molly's watch caught her eye. She took Molly's hand and looked at it. "Why the fuck didn't you sell it?"

"Because in spite of everything, it still meant a lot to me," Molly said.

"I should have looked harder for you," Maggie said. "I just never dreamed you would be back in New Jersey. I guess I suspected you'd be in Europe somewhere."

Maggie's phone buzzed in her hand, "That was quick," she said.

"What?" Molly asked.

"I'm your landlord now. Your rent just got really cheap."

"Maggie," Molly scolded.

"You know me, my sweet. I'll get bored with this by Christmas, and I'll go crawling back to daddy and be out of your hair. For now, I'm going to throw my weight around," she said. She kissed Molly's cheek and went back inside.

"She always like this?" Joe asked.

"No," Molly said, "She's feeling guilty, and she's trying to spend her way out of the feeling. She's probably going to replace most of my shoes, next."

"I refuse to believe that you hit it off over a cigarette," he said.

"It really happened that way," Molly said. "I may have bummed a cigarette off of her at the time as well. On another note, I have a problem, and I'm glad you're here."

"Okay," he said.

"I'm a semi-traditional kind of girl."

Joe grinned, "I did notice that."

"When we get married, I definitely want to take your name."

"Glad to hear it," he said.

"I still have to be Molly Von G at work though. Maggie is making it my brand. I'm worried you're going to be upset, because you're a semi-traditional kind of guy, from a very traditional family."

"Are you going to be my wife?" Joe asked.

"Yeah," she said, "I am. I'm really looking forward to it."

"Is it going to say Morelli on your Driver's license?"

"Yep," she said, "And on my passport; everywhere but my business cards."

"Do you want to have my kids?"

"Yes," she said.

"Are you mine?"

"Absolutely," she said.

"That's all I really care about."

"If I said no about the name change?"

"To paraphrase Meat Loaf, three out of four ain't bad."

"You know what sucks?" she asked.

Joe grinned, and she laughed. "Sorry, my mind is firmly in the gutter. Your nipples are hard, and it's having an effect on me," he said.

"Mine isn't far from the gutter either. We haven't had a chance to celebrate getting engaged. I sort of pictured a day in bed, wearing nothing but a smile and my ring."

Joe grinned and pinned her against the wall. There was a lot of tongue involved in the kiss, and he investigated her underwear choice under her skirt. Lace thong and he was pretty sure he knew which one, which made him groan against her lips. "We have to stop before I have to bust us for public indecency."

"I have to go pay for a kitchen renovation," she said.

"Have fun. I'll handle dinner tonight."

The problem with this goodbye was that neither of them moved, he was about to kiss her again when Mary coughed. "I'm about ready to get the hose."

"I'll be right there," Molly said. Molly gave Joe a fast hard peck on the lips, "Go solve crimes."

He stepped aside, and she followed Mary into the store. He bent to pick up the books he'd dropped to take full advantage of Molly's compliant nature. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and made the order to have some officers on crowd control and directing traffic, and then he went back through the store. Stephanie was there, and Molly had her standing on some newspaper. People were standing back while Molly sprayed a can's worth of hairspray on Stephanie. "Don't move. Let the adhesive dry," Molly said.

"You're sure this will work?" Stephanie said.

"Yeah," Molly said, "Glitter is an occupational hazard in my business. I have a case of hairspray under the counter for spills like this."

"Okay, but when I shower, the hairspray is going to dissolve, and I'll still have glitter."

"I know. So you're going to take really good, top shelf, olive oil, and you're going to put it in your hair like shampoo. You're going to let it sit for ten minutes and then you're going to rinse. Then you're going to take coconut oil, and you're going to coat yourself in it, and you're going to gently scrub, with your hands, not a sponge or towel, until it's all gone. It'll get rid of most of it. I'd throw out the clothes if you're not attached to them. If you are, more hairspray and then wash them one article at a time. Ella will take care of your carpet and shower."

"She knows what to do?"

"Who do you think taught me how to get rid of it?" Molly said with a grin.

"What are you? Like a sexy Ella 2.0?" Stephanie asked.

"Well if that's not the biggest compliment of my life. Thank you," Molly said. "Good luck."

Molly accepted some hand cream from Mary, and then a wet wipe, and cleaned sparkles off of her hands. "I have an appointment, it was nice talking to you."

"You too, and thanks," Stephanie said. Stephanie took a tentative step, and the glitter stayed put. She still looked like a molting disco ball, but she wasn't contagious anymore. Stephanie followed Joe out to the parking lot.

"I think I'm high from the hairspray and inhaled glitter. I'm going home."

"Are you fit to drive?"

"I'm just wondering if glitter infestation is an insurance write off or not."

"How are you still insurable?"

"They love me," she said, "You should see my deductibles. Hell, they are worth more than some of my recent cars. I'm out, and I'm monumentally pissed at you."

"Why?"

"Because I didn't want to like her, and I have to, because she's family."

"She and Ranger do just fine being barely cordial."

"I know. Unfortunately, Molly's cool, and I'm happy for you. Really happy."

"Good," he said.

"It hurts a little though."

"I know the feeling exactly," Joe said.