TITLE: The Port Charles Files 3/8
by Kelso (kelso28@excite.com)
***********
"You want to talk to Lesley Webber, Mulder?" Scully said. "Why?
I doubt she's practiced medicine since before her grandson was
born, and if we're to believe your tabloid, she was presumed dead
during most of that time."
"But she's been back from the dead for around three years, right?
And she might have some insight into Lucky's condition. It's
worth a try."
"All right," Scully agreed. "Let's see if she can tell us
anything." She led Mulder to the counter, where Lesley and
Elizabeth were talking.
Elizabeth broke off from her conversation with Lesley and drew
the older woman's attention to the agents. "Lesley, these are
FBI Agents Mulder and Scully. They're trying to help Lucky."
"Can you answer a few questions for us?" Mulder asked.
Lesley nodded. "I'll do my best."
"Thank you." As Elizabeth went into the kitchen, Scully led
Mulder and Lesley back to their table, where they all sat down.
Mulder began the questioning. "We understand that Lucky has been
acting out of character ever since he returned from being
falsely presumed dead. Can you give us any details?"
"Not many," Lesley admitted. "I've barely seen him lately. He's
been avoiding his family. The only relatives he seeks out are his
brother and his little sister."
"What about his supposed death?" Scully asked. "What proof did
you have that he had died?"
"A body was found in the building, and no one except Lucky lived
there. And the dental records exactly matched his," Lesley
explained.
"So you think someone switched the records?" Mulder guessed.
Lesley nodded. "We all thought Lucky was dead. I don't know what
else I can tell you that would help with anything."
"Well, thank you for your time," Scully said.
On a hunch, Mulder interjected, "Wait. By any chance, do you know
A.J. Quartermaine?"
"Know him? I helped deliver him during the blizzard of 1979,"
Lesley replied. "We were at the Quartermaine mansion, the power
was out, and it was a breech birth. Monica Quartermaine said that
my husband was A.J.'s father, but she turned out to be wrong.
That was one of the most memorable days of my life."
"You said 1979?" Mulder repeated. "Was it near the beginning of
the year, or the end?"
"It was in December," Lesley stated.
"Are you sure?" Mulder pressed.
"I would hardly forget the details of an incident like that
one," Lesley assured him.
Elizabeth trotted over to their table with a white take-out bag.
"Here you are, Lesley."
Lesley accepted the bag and stood. "Thanks, Elizabeth." She
turned to Mulder and Scully. "If you think of anything else you
want to know about Lucky, please let me know."
"Here." Scully handed her a card with her cell-phone number
circled. "You can reach me anytime."
"Thank you, I will."
Lesley exited the diner, and Elizabeth went to take an order at
the other side of the room.
Scully looked at Mulder. "All right, why did you ask those
questions about A.J. Quartermaine? What did you think you would
learn?"
"Don't you see, Scully?" Mulder said with barely restrained
enthusiasm. "A.J. was born in December of 1979. It is now August
of 2000. He's 20 years old, yet he's the town drunk. Doesn't that
strike you as being a little out of the ordinary?"
"No. It doesn't," Scully said firmly. "A lot of people are
underage drinkers."
"Do a lot of people both drink while underage, *and* engage in
possible insider trading?" Mulder paused to let the incongruity
of those two actions sink in. "That age discrepancy is one more
puzzle to solve, and it might lead to answers to several other
mysteries."
"I think I have an easy solution," Scully informed him. "Lesley
must have been confused about the date. Being in a catatonic
state for 13 years, give or take, can have that effect. She got
the year wrong, that's all."
"We'll soon see who is right," Mulder said confidently. "The
minute A.J. shows up."
Scully turned toward the doorway, where a dark-haired man dressed
in a business suit stood. "At a guess, that's A.J. Quartermaine
right there. Does he look like he's 20?"
Mulder eyed the newcomer, who indeed looked decidedly older than
20. "How do we know that's A.J. Quartermaine? And even if he is,
some people don't look their age."
"If he isn't A.J., why is he coming over here?" Scully countered.
Before Mulder could reply, the man reached the table and slid
into Elizabeth's vacant seat, next to Scully and across from
Mulder. "You two must be the FBI agents. A.J. Quartermaine, at
your service. So, what do you want to see me about? My brother
the mobster?"
Mulder already had the feeling that A.J.'s offhand attitude would
not go over well with Scully, and his impression was confirmed when
she said coolly, "Would it surprise you to know, Mr. Quarter-
maine, that *your* actions are the ones in question?"
He smiled, appearing unfazed. "Call me A.J., please. And your
first name is...?"
"You can call me Agent Scully. My partner is Agent Mulder."
A.J. leaned back in his chair. "Well, agents, what have I done to
warrant your attention? Are you investigating my discrimination
case against Bobbie Jones?"
A case about which they had no knowledge, Mulder thought. He
answered cautiously, "We might look into it if you give us a few
more details."
"Bobbie owns a brownstone and rents out rooms, but she wouldn't
let me have one and she refused to sell the building to me,"
A.J. summarized.
"We'll add her name to our list," Scully promised. "But right
now, we're more interested in the allegations of insider trading
that have been made against you."
"So my grandfather made good on his threat and reported me, huh?
Why am I not surprised? Look, he wanted to unload a loser of a
company, I took it off his hands, and it happened to undergo a
massive turnaround in fortune. I didn't have any inside
information. It's just that everything I touch -- investment-
wise, at least -- turns to gold these days. Didn't you talk to
Agent Hannah Scott? She looked into the situation and realized
I didn't do anything wrong. Her report should be around
somewhere."
"Hannah Scott?" Scully froze. "Hannah was involved in a prelimi-
nary investigation?"
A.J. nodded. "She cleared my name. Said that the accusation was
groundless."
"Can you give us a few minutes alone?" Scully asked.
"Sure." A.J. pushed away from the table and sauntered across the
room, where he leaned against the wall and stared at them.
Scully turned to Mulder. "A.J.'s story sounds plausible, and I
was inclined to believe him. *Until* he brought up Hannah's
name, and how she believes in his innocence."
"So now what? You think he's guilty?"
"I don't trust Hannah's judgement for a second. We can't drop the
subject."
"I think you're right," Mulder agreed. "A.J.'s grandfather,
Edward Quartermaine, made the accusation. We should see what
proof he has and take it from there."
"That seems like the best course of action." Scully motioned A.J.
back to the table.
"So, what did you decide?" he asked as he sat down.
"We need to look more deeply into this matter," Mulder replied.
"You're going to talk to my grandfather, aren't you?" A.J.
guessed. "It won't do you any good. He doesn't have a thing on
me. He's just mad that I made money off a company he quit on."
"We'll get back with you after we see him," Scully said.
But again, as he had done during the conversation with Lesley,
Mulder extended the conversation, asking A.J., "Before you
leave, Mr. Quartermaine, can you show us some identification?"
"What, do you think I'm an imposter? I don't know anyone who
would want to impersonate me." A.J. laughed shortly as he pulled
his wallet out of his pocket and located his driver's license,
which he handed to Scully.
She scanned the contents, then passed the license to Mulder. He
sought the birth date: 11/18/72. It couldn't be right; it
contradicted Lesley Webber's statement. He remained staring at
the license until Scully gently tugged it away and returned it to
A.J.
"You can go. We know where to reach you."
"You're going to visit my grandfather? There's an ELQ board
meeting at the mansion today, but that's okay. You'll have a
great time." A.J. strolled away, smirking.
In his wake, Mulder puzzled, "How could that license have said
1972? It doesn't make sense."
"What doesn't make sense is your assumption that Lesley Webber
was right about that man being 20 years old," Scully corrected
him. "What we should be focusing on is this insider-trading
business, and we're going to see Edward Quartermaine to get it
straightened out."
***********
"Here we are: 66 Harbor View Road." Mulder braked the Dodge to a
stop in front of the Quartermaine mansion.
Scully surveyed the large, white house and its sweeping, well-
maintained grounds as she stepped out of the car. "The sooner we
get this over with..."
In silent agreement, they made their way to the front door of the
mansion. There, they hesitated; shouting from inside the building
was audible.
"Mulder, do you think something's wrong?" Scully strained to make
out individual words, but the roar was indecipherable.
Mulder pounded on the door and rang the bell for good measure,
even as he said, "I doubt anyone can hear me inside with all that
noise."
It appeared he was right; they waited nearly a minute, but no one
came to let them in. After another barrage on the door also
failed to produce results, Scully said, "We'd better try to see
what's going on. I wonder if..." She tried the doorknob, which
turned easily. She gently pushed at the door, and wasn't
surprised when it opened with no resistance. "You'd think that
with all the crime in town, they'd have learned to lock their
doors," she said to Mulder as they entered the house.
From the spacious foyer where they stood, the noise level was
nearly deafening. The source was undoubtedly a room not far
away; they moved to the doorway and looked in on a beautifully-
appointed living room that contained seven occupants, six of
whom appeared to be trying to outshout each other. A square-
jawed, white-haired old man screamed at a thirtysomething,
dimpled man who yelled right back. A middle-aged blonde woman
held a spirited conversation with a man of a similar age, and
the dark-haired, swarthy man standing behind the sofa appeared
to be having a difference of opinion with the tall, blonde fellow
next to him. The only quiet occupant was a little old lady who
sat in a motorized wheelchair. She was the first to catch sight
of the visitors, and she raised a hand for silence. One by one,
the others became aware that they had an audience, and the
cacophony died down.
The peace promptly shattered when the old man bellowed, "Who are
you and what are you doing here?" He strode over to stand within
arm's reach of Mulder, who pulled out his badge. "You're with the
FBI? Whatever happened, one of those two is responsible." He
waved at the dark man and the lighter-haired one, then shouted,
"Reginald! Where are you? Why aren't you screening our visitors?"
"Give it a rest, Edward," snapped the middle-aged woman. She
turned to Mulder and Scully. "The windbag is my father-in-law,
Edward Quartermaine, and that's his wife, Lila." She nodded
toward the old lady. "I'm Monica, and this is my husband Alan
and our nephew, Ned Ashton. Those two," she eyed the dark man and
the blonde, "are Sonny Corinthos and Jasper Jacks. We are
conducting an ELQ board meeting, hence the horrendous level of
noise. Now, what business do you have here?"
Mulder performed his interrupted introduction. "We're Agents
Mulder and Scully, and--"
He was interrupted again, this time by Sonny. "Did you say
'Scully'? As in, 'Joe Scully'?"
"You mean, do I have a relative named Joe?" Scully thought for a
moment. "No, not as far as I know. Why?"
Sonny shook his head and turned away.
Jax stepped forward, and said, in a strong Australian accent,
"Sonny's disapproval is recommendation enough for me."
"Me, too," Edward agreed.
"Well, that's fortunate, Mr. Quartermaine," said Mulder, "because
you're exactly who we came to see."
Edward looked taken aback and began to bluster, but Lila steered
her wheelchair beside him. "Why don't we go outside, dear, so the
others can continue the meeting?"
As Scully watched in amazement, Edward shut his mouth and meekly
trailed his wife to the French doors and outside the house. She
and Mulder followed their path. As they shut the door, the
room behind them again exploded into a babble of voices.
In the relative quiet of outdoors, Edward crossed his arms and
frowned. "Well, what do you want?"
"Now, Edward, these people are our guests," Lila chided. "Be nice
to them."
Edward looked like he was restraining himself from making a
pointed comment, but he remained silent.
"Mr. Quartermaine, you should know why we're here," Scully
pointed out. "You reported your grandson, A.J., for alleged
insider trading."
Lila gasped. "Oh, Edward, you didn't!"
He winced and dropped his arms to his sides. "It seemed uncanny
at the time, how he made so much money off of that company. I
never would have predicted it. And I thought it might throw a
scare into him if the FBI looked into the situation. God knows
Hannah Scott's involvement didn't make a whit of difference, so
I went over her head. That boy will never straighten out if he
doesn't get a push, you know."
Lila shook her head and sighed.
"So, you don't have any proof that your grandson has committed
any crimes?" Mulder asked.
"No," Edward admitted. "I just thought...oh, I don't know what I
thought, but it obviously didn't work out!"
Lila intervened. "Edward, please go back inside and finish up
with the meeting. I'll join you in a few moments."
"Oh, all right. But don't let these people trick you into saying
anything foolish," he warned as he moved away.
Lila waited until Edward was safely indoors before she addressed
Mulder and Scully. "I must apologize for my husband's behavior.
His bark is far worse than his bite, but sometimes, he goes too
far. I do hope you won't hold his behavior against A.J."
Scully looked at Mulder, who shook his head slightly. "I don't
think you need to worry about that, Mrs. Quartermaine," she
assured the woman.
"Oh, please, call me Lila," she invited. "And if I can help you
in any way, don't hesitate to ask."
"Maybe you can," Mulder replied. "If any noteworthy events
whatsoever occur in town, such as the emergence of a top-secret
energy disk, or a psychotic twin, we'd appreciate being
informed." He handed Lila a card with his cell-phone number
written on it. "We're staying at Kelly's Diner."
Lila smiled. "A lovely, homey place. Several of us Quartermaines
lived there for a time, during the period when we lost ELQ and
were nearly penniless. But after I brought out my Pickle-lila
relish recipe, we made a new fortune and returned to the
mansion. We do pull together when circumstances warrant."
Appearances certainly were deceiving, Scully reflected. Looking
at Lila, you would never know she was an entrepreneur who ran
the family, putting aside the fact that she had once held
conversations with her husband's portrait while he was presumed
dead. But their business at the Quartermaines' seemed to be
over.
Mulder evidently didn't think so, as he asked, "Lila, when is
A.J.'s birthday?"
"November 18, 1972."
Scully had had enough. Mulder's insistence on bringing up the
supposed mystery of A.J.'s age had gotten on her nerves once too
often. She smiled for Lila's sake. "Thank you for your help. We
should be going." She turned away, and saw a nearby shrub moving.
An eavesdropper?
She glanced at Mulder to alert him, and Lila looked toward the
bushes, as well. "Emily, dear?" she called.
For several seconds, nothing happened. Then, slowly, a teenage
girl with long, straight, brown hair, crept into view. "Yes,
Grandmother?"
"These are FBI Agents Mulder and Scully," Lila said. "I won't
ask why you were listening to our conversation, but perhaps you
know some information that would be of use to them. I'll give
you some privacy." She briskly drove to the nearest door, and
Mulder hurried over to hold it open for her. She smiled her
thanks as she maneuvered into the house.
Scully, meanwhile, studied the girl, who looked very nervous.
Could she know anything of importance? Lila had implied so.
"Hello, Emily," Scully said gently.
"I've never been to a rave," Emily blurted.
"Rave?" said Mulder as he returned from helping Lila.
"Isn't that what you wanted to talk about?" Emily said, her eyes
darting away. "I mean, I heard that the police have been cracking
down on them, and I thought maybe that's why you were here."
Emily was too jumpy for this subject to be ignored, Scully
decided. "We *are* interested in the raves," she said. "And, of
course, in any other unique situations you've run across
lately."
"I've been involved in things much stranger than a rave," the
girl immediately offered. "And so has my friend, Lucky Spencer.
He was kidnapped and has been having memory lapses since his
return. I'm not supposed to talk about to anyone, but you're the
FBI so I guess that's okay."
"Can you tell us more about these memory lapses?" Scully
prompted.
Emily looked relieved. "Um, yeah. One day I was talking to him
and he zoned out right in the middle of the conversation, like he
couldn't even hear me anymore. He said that's happened to him
before."
"And Lucky is Elizabeth Webber's boyfriend," Mulder said.
"Yeah," said Emily. "I mean, in a way. They broke up, like my
boyfriend and me, but Juan and I are kind of back together now
so I hope Elizabeth and Lucky make it, too. They're perfect for
each other."
"Juan as in Juan Santiago, the singer?" Mulder asked.
"You know Juan?" Emily said.
"We've heard him...sing," Scully replied, mentally cringing at
the memory.
Emily smiled her first toothy smile of the conversation. "Juan's
going to be a huge star. He's been busy all week at the studio
working on a new song. L&B Records has the next Ricky Martin on
its hands!"
"So, aside from Lucky's memory lapses and Juan's impending
superstardom, you can't think of any other recent odd events?"
Mulder asked.
Emily shook her head and looked away.
"Well, I don't have any other questions," Scully said. "Do you,
Mulder?"
He took her lead and agreed. "That's it for me. Thanks for your
help, Emily."
Emily answered with an unenthusiastic, "Sure, anytime."
Since entering the house and then exiting through the front door
would involve encountering the ELQ board members again, Scully
instead led Mulder around the building and toward their car.
He looked behind them to ensure that they were clearly out of
earshot of Emily. "That was supposed to be a meeting? It was more
like a free-for-all. And that girl seemed pretty nervous on the
subject of raves."
"She probably went to one without permission and doesn't want her
family to find out," Scully speculated. "She couldn't change the
subject fast enough and latched onto her friend Lucky as an
excuse. I think we have another case to investigate. And what
about Sonny Corinthos' reaction to my name? He closed up as soon
as he heard it."
Mulder nodded. "He must have had some negative interaction with
another Scully."
Scully shrugged. "Probably. Maybe we should put him on our list
of future interviews."
"Those can wait a little while, can't they?"
"What do you have in mind, Mulder?"
"I thought we could split up till later this afternoon. Do you
have anything in store that can keep you busy for a while?"
"I guess so. What will you be up to?"
"Oh, jogging, going out to lunch, finding out if anyone else
in town has been brainwashed lately. You know, your usual,
everyday kind of thing. You can drop me off at Kelly's and have
the car till four. We can meet at the police station then."
Scully considered the offer. Although she hadn't planned on going
solo quite yet, she *did* have some juicy leads to check up on.
For instance, she could meet the dream girl herself, Chloe
Morgan. So she agreed to Mulder's suggestion.
end 3/8