Mike was chuckling silently to himself when Steve strolled into his office the next morning, looking once more like the cat that ate the canary. His jacket off, sleeves rolled up, and fresh cup of coffee in hand, the younger man sank slowly into the guest chair with a very smug smile, deliberately taking a sip of the steaming brew while his partner stared at him with an amused smirk.

"Well, I guess I don't have to ask you how your evening went, do I?" Mike asked rhetorically as he moved the papers on the desk around unnecessarily, then took his glasses off and dropped them on top. "You're… relaxed, are you?" he asked with feigned innocence.

"Oh yeah," Steve grinned wickedly, taking another sip of coffee.

"Good." The older man chuckled, glancing at his watch. "You took your time getting in this morning, so it must have been a very… late night." He raised his eyebrows.

"As a matter of fact, Jennifer went home just after midnight. But I spent my morning on the phone."

Mike eyed him warily. "Really? Trouble in paradise?"

"No," the younger man almost whined, "she had an early morning and she wanted to get a good night's sleep… which she more than likely wouldn't have gotten if she stayed at my place -"

Mike's right hand shot up. "Okay, I've heard enough." They both laughed. "So, ah, were your phone calls successful? Did your lawyer friends have anything to say about Turley's shyster?"

"You mean Robert S. Manchester the Third?"

"Yeah, Robert S. Manchester the Third." Mike snorted. "Do you think that's his real name or do you think he got it out of a phone book?"

Chuckling, Steve leaned forward, cupping the mug in both hands as he rested his elbows on his knees. "Well, I've got some really interesting information about him."

Mike leaned forward as well, interlocking his fingers as he rested his forearms on the desk. "Do tell."

"Well, the first thing is, he's not from here."

"He's not a local?"

Steve shook his head. "Nope. One of my guys said he's only been here about five years. He's not sure where he's from but he's definitely not from The City."

Mike grinned. "Like you."

Taking a beat to smirk at his smug partner, Steve nodded. "Yeah, like me." He snorted dryly. "Anyway… he's everything we thought he would be."

"An ambulance chaser."

"Yeah, my friend Ralph says he doesn't know him but he knows of him. He's gotten pretty famous amongst the… disputation for his -"

"The what?" Mike looked confused.

Steve grinned. "Disputation."

"What the hell is a 'disputation'?"

"Well, as I found out this morning, it's the collective noun for a group of lawyers." He raised his eyebrows to punctuate his explanation.

"Disputation?"

"Umh-humh."

Mike snorted a laugh. "Well, it fits… I guess. Go on."

Steve nodded once. "Anyway, Manchester doesn't like to go to court, it seems, so he always gets clients who have been in an accident or had an accident, like a fall, and gets them to sue for astronomical amounts of money then threatens to go to court and then -"

Mike was already nodding. "Yeah, they settle out of court for a lesser but still impressive amount and everybody's happy."

"Yeah."

The older man shrugged. "Well, it's not illegal. Unethical maybe, but not illegal." His brow furrowed slightly. "I wonder who got in touch with who first?"

Steve grinned and leaned forward to put his mug on the desk. "Well, I think I have an answer to that one, Lieutenant." Mike dropped his head slightly and his eyes narrowed. His smile turned expectant. "You do?"

Closing his eyes briefly, the inspector gave one slow nod. "I had a hunch of my own this morning. And one of my phone calls was to the bar association in St. Louis."

The tumblers in Mike's mind were already starting to fall into place and, as his eyes widened, his smile turned to disbelief. "Son of a bitch…"

Steve nodded again. "He practiced law in St. Louis for two years before he moved out west, they told me. He started out his career as a personal injury lawyer and he was very good at it, it seems. Decided to try his luck in a bigger city, with deeper pockets."

They stared at each other for a long beat before Mike shook his head slowly. "What are the odds, you think, that Turley knew him before Tuesday?"

"Better than even money, I would think."

"Me too." Mike leaned back, still shaking his head. "That was some hunch, buddy boy."

Picking up the cup again, Steve leaned back and laughed. "Well, I learned from the best, so…" He shrugged as he took a sip of the cooling coffee.

"Yeah, right -" Mike began to deflect the flattery when his phone rang and he quickly grabbed the receiver. "Homicide, Stone…. Yeah?… Great. Yeah, we'll be right down." Steve was already getting to his feet when Mike hung up and stood, starting to roll his sleeves down. "Bernie's finished with the autopsy. Says he has something to show us." He raised his eyebrows pointedly.

"Then let's go see."

# # # # #

"You've got good instincts, Mike," Bernie greeted them as they came through the double doors to the autopsy room. There was a body covered with a blue blanket on a trolley in the centre of the room.

As they moved closer to the trolley, the coroner pulled the blanket away down to the waist. Mrs. Turley was lying on her stomach, her head turned to the left; the hair on the back of her head had been shaved. Bernie pointed to the backs of her upper arms; on the outside of her arms were four long thin dark blotches, and on the inside, one smaller oblong bruise. Then he pointed to the back of her head; there was a discoloured lump at the base of the skull.

"He didn't want to kill her outright, the drowning had to be legit, so she needed to have water in her lungs. He knew that much," Bernie explained. He pointed to the back of her head again. "He hit her hard enough to knock her out or maybe just incapacitate her enough to slam her forehead into the edge of the tub then hold her under so she would drown. From the position of the bruises, I'd say he was in the tub with her; easier to maneuver her to hit her head on the edge and hold her down." He pointed to the bruises on the back of the Mrs. Turley's arms, then raised both hands, holding them out in front of himself as if holding two imaginary cups of coffee. "Like this."

Mike, who was looking at the body almost sadly, nodded slowly. "Thanks, Bernie. This is the nail in the coffin we need."

The balding medical examiner smiled grimly. "Glad I could be of help. I'll finished the report and get it up to you as soon as I can."

"Thanks." Mike led his partner back out into the corridor and they slowly made their way to the elevators. "When we get back upstairs, give Turley a call and tell him we'd like to see him and his lawyer in here this afternoon to finish this up. Two o'clock." He pushed the Up button. "With any luck, we can get everything wrapped up before we go home tonight."

Steve chuckled. "That would be nice. I'd have to type the reports, but still…"

The chime sounded and the doors opened. They stepped into the empty car, both moving to lean against the back wall. Mike shoved his hands into his pants pockets.

"So what did Neil have to say?"

Mike's eyebrows went up. "Oh, ah, well, he didn't have much to say. Except that things are going well - really well, he said. He's got the van, by the way."

"Oh yeah? That's great."

"Yeah. Anyway, he said he has some things to tell me and he wants to know if I could help him with some stuff for the school so I'm thinking of maybe taking the weekend off to give him a hand."

Steve smiled affectionately, knowing their lack of progress with the homeless murders was weighing heavily on the veteran detective's mind. "I think that would be a great idea. You know, I really wish he'd consider moving out of that Oak Street house if we could find him another place but he's pretty adamant he doesn't want to move."

Mike shrugged. "Well, I think he likes the idea that they consider him their guardian, so to speak. I really think he likes that role. Don't you?"

The younger man nodded with an agreeing snort. "Yeah, I think you're right." The elevator slid to a stop and the doors opened. They started down the corridor towards Homicide. "Did you hear from Washington?"

"Yeah. Nothing there, from any of the teams. From what he said, Brother Samuel is a saint." Mike took his hands out of his pockets and opened the door. He glanced over his shoulder. "I'm beginning to think we're just spinning our wheels but I told him I want the teams to hang in there until Sunday when I have to pull the plug." Steve stopped at his desk while Mike continued on to his office. "Never say die, right?" he chuckled as he stopped in the doorway and looked back. "You're gonna call -?"

"Right away," Steve smiled, grabbing the notebook on the top of his desk and flipped it open as he picked up the receiver.

# # # # #

Steve was in his partner's office with the door closed when Tanner entered Homicide with Turley and Manchester in tow. The slick lawyer in the expensive suit and hundred dollar haircut was carrying a fancy leather briefcase; Turley, in a conservative charcoal gray suit, looked slightly worried.

They were lead across the bullpen to one of the interrogation rooms. A large trolley with a TV and videotape recorder was already set up in the far corner. There was a pitcher of water and two glasses on a tray in the centre of the table.

Tanner closed the interrogation room door and wandered to his boss's office. He knocked perfunctorily on the door and opened it without waiting for an invite.

"We got it, Bill, thanks," Mike smiled with a nod and the black inspector returned the nod then shut the door and moved to his own desk.

Mike looked at his partner with a contented smile. "Let's wait a few minutes, let them stew."

"Works for me."

After a couple of beats of silence, Mike asked, "So, you gonna take this weekend off as well?"

"I've been thinking about that. Jen's going away for the weekend but she's back the week after so I might delay it a week. Besides, there's some paperwork I can get caught up on if you're not breathing down my neck all the time."

Mike frowned slowly. "I beg your pardon…?"

Steve's face split into a broad grin and he chuckled evilly.

"Funny. Really funny…" After a beat, Mike's attention drifted towards the phone. "You know, we still haven't heard from the FBI yet. Maybe when we get finished with Turley I'll give my guy a call."

"Couldn't hurt."

Mike exhaled loudly and glanced at his watch. "Okay, you wanna do this?"

"Why not?"

They both got up, doing up their collar buttons and tightening their ties. Mike crossed to the rack for his jacket while Steve picked his off the back of the chair and they shrugged them on.

Mike adjusted his cuffs as they started across the bullpen.

Opening the door of the glass-walled interrogation room, both detectives smiled broadly as they entered. "Good to see you again, . Glad you could join us." As he sat in the chair closet to the door, Steve slipping into the one beside him, Mike clasped his hands together as he rested his forearms on the table and smiled benevolently. "This shouldn't take too long."