I am so sorry. I realize that the delay has been inordinate. New job and longer commute has been interfering. I hope that nobody thought that I had abandoned the story. In any case, I do hope that you enjoy the next installment and I will try to update quicker next time.

"That slimy son of a bitch," Amy raged. "I knew it. I knew he was involved. I knew that arrogant bastard had something to do with hurting those girls." She stopped just long to draw a breath and looked at Pendergast whose eyes were hooded with thoughts of his own. "You know , I'm right," she continued. "We need to get him...get him before he hurts anybody else...he is laughing at us, Aloysius."

Amy pushed herself off the couch, oblivious to the pain still emanating from her ankle. "What are we waiting for?" She asked. "Lets go."

"No." The word was quietly spoken, but it had the force to stop Amy in her tracks. She slowly turned to look at Pendergast who had not moved. Pendergast saw true anger in those deep green eyes, but kept his own expression mild. "We have no evidence," he said evenly. "The car could, in fact, have been stolen as DuBois told the Deputy. Without any proof to the contrary, he could accuse us of harassment at the very least. At worst, we tip our hand to him before we are ready," he continued looking at Amy, willing her to think about her position. "You are a federal agent, Ameline," he said gently. "Think this through."

Amy was ready to fight Pendergast on this. She opened her mouth to argue, but shut is as her common sense overcame her initial emotion."I...," she started, and again went silent. She swore viciously in Cajun again, and then took a deep breath. She knew that Dubois was somehow connected to the dead girls and it galled her that she could not make a connection strong enough to justify an arrest. She also knew that Pendergast was right. She closed her eyes briefly and fought for control. "You are right, Aloysius," she said softly. "I want him to be guilty so badly, I am jumping at shadows and using wishful thinking instead of my training. I am sorry Agent Pendergast," she said formally.

"No need to apologize," Pendergast's voice was gentle as he put a comforting hand on Amy's shoulder. "I understand and I feel as you do." Something in his voice caught Amy's attention and she looked up into his eyes. "I know how it is to want something so much that nothing else seems to matter," he said quietly not shying away from that intense emerald gaze. Amy's heart raced and her mouth went dry; she did not want to look away, but the intensity in those pale silver eyes was too much and she glanced down.

The moment had passed. With another deep breath, Amy asked, "So what do we do now?"

Pendergast shook himself slightly. "We do what we had originally planned. We go step by step." He again looked at the other agent, and his face broke into a rare, slight smile, "It's almost lunch time, I am famished, and I happen to know that Antoine's serves a lovely Jambalaya."

Amy looked around the restaurant warily. The quiet cadence of conversation and the clanking of silverware and crystal formed a background buzz that Amy found unnerving and it set her teeth on edge. Something was setting her teeth on edge. She tried telling her that it was only memories of what happened to Pendergast that were grating on her, but deep down she knew it was not true.

The plump Maitre 'd huffed up to them. "Monsieur Pendergast," he spoke with an exaggerated French accent, "It is good to see you again. I hope that you have recovered fully."

"Yes," Amy thought drily, "wouldn't do to have another scene at the restaurant.

"Thank you, Paul," Pendergast replied without skipping a beat, "I am quite well." The briefest of pauses. "Is my usual table available?"

"But of course, Monsier," Paul simpered, "but a moment if you please."

It was closer to five minutes, but then Paul personally escorted them to the table. He pulled out the chair for Amy and then for Pendergast. And that's when it hit Amy with the weight of a ton of bricks. She knew what had seemed off.

"Aloysius," her voice was soft by urgent. Pendergast looked up. "Last time we were here, you were seated first."

"That was a lapse on the part of the Maitre d," Pendergast said absently. "He was new".

"Oh I don't care about that," Amy hissed. Look around you. What do you see?" Pendergast picked up his water glass and used the time it took to sip water to look around. The water stopped half way to his lips. How could he have missed it? He nodded, understanding. Pendergast had been frequenting restaurants such as Antoine's for many years – so much so, that he took many things for granted. Things like the fact that the woman was always seated first and on the left of the gentleman. Except...

"...Except," Pendergast took up speaking, "..Excepth that night," he said, "I was seated first and was seated on the left." He paused a moment, letting the ramifications of the realization sink in, "I was seated where, under any other circumstances, you would have been sitting, Ameline."

The salad had been served and Amy picked at it, no longer hungry. "So...," she stretched out the word as she was thinking, "..somebody knew that you would be seated where you were and placed the glass where you'd get it...or.,..," she paused as the realization hit her.

"...or," Pendergast finished the sentence that Amy could not,"...the poison was placed there with the expectation that my companion...," he too paused for a moment, "...that you would be sitting there."

I should probably apologize again as this chapter is short. It just feels that this is the right place for a break. I hope you enjoyed it and that its moving the story along. I will do my absolute best to update very soon. Please let me know what you think.