Chapter 2: THAT Kind of Party

"No!" Dick would not get out of the car. Veronica was dragging him, obviously, but it was taking some time. Fortunately, the soles of his dress shoes had no traction at all, and she'd beaten his love of clip-on ties out of him when he started dating Mac, so she was making pretty good time sliding him through the parking lot by the expedient of his solidly tied-on tie.

"No way am I going to a swinger's party with you when Logan doesn't know!"

Dick broke her grip on his tie and darted to the opposite side of the mansion steps, ducking behind a topiary.

"We've talked about this," he yelled through the topiary. "NO LYING TO LOGAN."

"I'm not here to pick anybody up, and obviously I'm going to tell him. Just…after." She dropped her fists on her sequined hips. "Seriously, what's the big deal? Like you've never been to a swinger's party before?"

"I mean that's not—oh hey Barbara," he said to one of the women who stopped to wave to him on the way in. "No good to see you, too. Your new tits are looking great, by the way. Super perky. Yeah, catch you inside." He edged his head out, eyeing Veronica. "Anyway, that's not the point. No means no."

"What if I—" she started to negotiate and he just plowed over the top of her.

"You didn't tell Logan and he would break every bone in my Benjamin if I got it near you, or if anybody else gets near you. Actually, just being in the same block as this party is pushing it." He jumped out from behind the topiary and grabbed her elbows, propelling her toward the parking lot.

Veronica groaned through her teeth and flipped his hold. Had him in an arm bar and halfway back up the curb before another couple on the way in stopped to gawk at them. "Do you, um, need some help?" the man asked Dick.

"He's got cold feet," she answered for him. "He'll be fine."

"You sure, Dick?" the wife asked him, exchanging a look with her husband. "I mean, cold feet aren't exactly the Casablancas' brand."

He grinned at her from his bent-forward position. "I'm trying to do the right thing. It's a whole new leaf I'm turning a corner on right now. Not going super well, to be honest with you, Jen." Veronica let him up, for appearances sake. He shook his bangs back, unruffled, and fist-bumped the husband. "Thanks though, Brad."

Veronica rolled her eyes. Why did she even bother to try and gather intel here? Dick had probably forgotten more of these people's secrets than she would ever know.

"Isn't that your buddy's girlfriend, though?" Brad asked. "The one you hate?"

"No, nah." Dick threw an arm around her, rescuing their cover at the last minute and giving a laugh. "I mean, kind of. We had a super hot three-way, and now we've got some enemies-to-lovers heat running, you hit me?"

"Oh yeah, sure, sure." Brad was eyeing the slit in Veronica's gown now. "Well, anyway, let me know if you two want to play later. The crazy ones are always the best in bed."

"Excuse me?" Even her cover couldn't keep her from dropping jaw at that one.

"He means it as a compliment, honey, trust me." Jen grinned at her and gave a little jazz hands excited wave as they headed up the stairs.

Veronica turned and socked Dick. "What happened to the cone of silence?"

He stared at her. "What do you mean?"

"About the…" She flashed three fingers to him, down low. His eyes popped wide.

"Oh no! That was just our cover! I was trying to just give 'em a story they'd buy, since I was sort of bitching a lot about you the last time we banged. You'd dumped him again, Logan was all busted up, getting arrested twice a week, you know how it was."

"So you told them the truth?"

"No! That was just a story." He dropped his voice. "They don't know it's also the truth."

"And that's different from—you know what, never mind. My lead might already be in there. Are you coming or not?"

He waggled his brows. "Depends on if you cup my balls real soft. Usually that brings me off with a bang."

"Did I mention I brought the taser? Since I don't have Logan for backup? Also a gun."

"Oh, yeah, no. Still definitely no. Speaking of Logan's fists and all." He started backing toward the car.

Veronica whooshed around in front of him. "Listen. We both know he pretends not to care about that app—"

"He does care!" Dick interrupted. "All his money came from his piece of shit dad and you don't know what that's like because your dad didn't screw the pooch, like mine. Or screw your girlfriend, like his. So you don't get it. It means something to do some shit on your own two feet when you're like us."

She looked at him.

"Oh." He scratched his head. "Yeah, okay, good point."

"Thanks. Anyway, so that's why I didn't ask Logan to come, because we both know he would. Thus missing the award he's pretending not to care about. And I can't ask anyone else to this party because it might get a little—" She cleared her throat. "If I want to get through it without breaking my cover. And you—" She examined the topiary. "You uh…"

"Aww, Ronnie. I gotcha." He reached out and gave her shoulder a happy pat. "You don't want anybody here who hasn't already seen your hoobity boobities."

"More like you're the only person who can shoot as straight as Logan," she snapped, whirling toward the door. "So keep that ankle holster handy, that pretty face pointing forward, and that mouth shut."

He grabbed the next couple heading up the stairs, grinning. "She thinks I'm pretty. Said so. Ver—" She smacked him and he cut himself off. "Verona Applegate herself said I was pretty."

"That is…the fakest name I've ever heard," one of the women said.

Veronica smiled at both women. "Code names. You know." She tittered. "Privacy. I thought we decided on Fiona Fatale, though, honeybunny!"

He rubbed his arm as the pair of women moved on. "You know, domestic violence is a crime. Are you hurting Logan? Because I told him, if you get too rough and he needs a bailout he can just yell 'Petunia!' and I'll come running."

She took a deep breath, then ruined it by sighing it all out. Took another. "So is that a yes?"

"Two things." Dick raised one finger.

Veronica had another deep breath. Wondered if molly gave you more patience. "Yes, Dick?"

"First, what's okay to do to you? I mean, to fake it in there."

She blinked.

"What goods do you not mind if I see, which one of your lady dials should I not be turning, you know what—"

"I know what you mean, Dick. I just wasn't…expecting that," she finished more quietly, mostly to herself. "Right. Um—" She very much didn't want to be having this conversation. Her hands fidgeted at her sides. "I'm going to try to keep our clothes on. But mostly we gotta fly by the seat of our pants—"

"Assuming we still have any."

"Right, because it just matters where my suspect ends up, and what we have to do to blend in. In that room." She jumped as Dick took her hand. "What are you doing?"

"You're bleeding." He swiped the red droplet away with his thumb, and she realized her nails had bit harder into her palm than she thought. Which was dumb because she was not nervous. She'd done plenty of crazier stuff for cases. This was fine. Dick gave her a lopsided, guileless grin. "You can take my clothes off, though."

"I really don't have the inclination at the moment, but thanks for the offer." She started up the steps.

"No, I mean, in there." He pulled her farther off the steps. Behind two topiaries this time. "If you pretend you're topping me, you can burn a ton of time undressing me. I'm wearing lots of clothes. I've even got an undershirt on, that's another five minutes, easy!" he said. "You can strip me all the way down to full moonrise, if you want." He slapped a hand down on his ass. "This crowd has all seen this sports model." He smirked. "Liked it, too. So anyway, you probably don't gotta lose more than an earring if you don't wanna."

"That's uh—" Her chest was going a little wonky. "Surprisingly helpful, Dick."

"Yup, no problem. We'll just tell Logan right when we get home, though, right? No lying? Unless I do gotta touch something, then we might want to lie. Just so I can keep all my parts still attached…" He held up his hands, wiggled his fingers. "And what's dealer's choice, by the way? If we run out of clothes on me and have to do you? You wanna bare tits or ass first?"

Veronica was getting a headache. "Could you just kiss me?"

"Nope." He shook his head. "Logan'd have my Casa-cojones for a kiss." He considered. "I could maybe get off with a quick coma if I only felt you up a little bit. Not on any of the good parts. Just like the flyover states."

That made her laugh. "Okay, you got yourself a deal."

"Second, I gotta call my girlfriend and ask permission. No fucking way am I gonna be fucking around with you on her big night if it might fuck her up, even if it's fake fucking. You feel me?"

She tipped her head. "Um, yeah. That's a pretty decent idea, actually." She frowned as something disturbing occurred to her. "Dick, are you a good boyfriend?"

"Logan's tutoring me," Dick said, dialing. "Still pretty much pulling down straight C's, though. Hey, yeah, babe, is Logan right there? Hey so go to the ladies' room for a sec… No, no phone sex right now. We can have phone sex later, though! Do you want to?" He listened. "Yeah, cool, I'll call you back in like two hours! But hey, for now, can I go to a swinger's party with Veronica for a case? No, no banging."

Veronica could hear Mac's sigh all the way through the phone. "I mean, you've had sex with everyone we know except Veronica," she said, "so I don't know if it even matters at this point. Knock yourself out."

"Uh, yeah." Dick gulped. "Right. Yup, just about everybody but Veronica! Because that would be crazy!" He gave the fakest laugh Veronica had ever heard, and she mimed hanging up a phone. "Yeah, so I gotta go pretend to swing, but don't tell Logan, okay, because—" He paused, listening. "Oh right, of course you already know why we can't tell Logan." His grin rebounded, with that sappy, sparkly little special light it got when he was talking to Mac. Or about Mac. Or came within a city block of her, her house, or her car.

Veronica melted a little, and picked at her black nail polish to cover it.

"Talking to you is so fast, Mac, because you're so smart! Which is good because it leaves more time for making out. And that's good because you're so pretty!"

Veronica didn't hear what Mac said back, but Dick frowned.

"Hey, and if any nerds propose, get their number. No, it's so I can kick their asses. Yeah. Yeah, no, you're right, getting their addresses would be more convenient! Do that, then. I love you. Yeah, that speech you give is gonna be so hot. Logan's going to film it for me, but I'm probably not gonna make it through the whole tape without jerking off, just telling you right now."

Veronica swung around and studied a topiary. At length.

"Yeah, no, you're wrong about that. You're gonna kick all the ass. Love you, too. Oh, hey, and can Ronnie see me naked? For the case. Nah, she's probably not gonna like it." He covered the mouthpiece. "She says not to damage the goods, please. Even if I make you real mad."

"No promises!" Veronica said, raising her voice.

Dick pouted, and she felt the smallest scrape of guilt. Probably just indigestion, really.

"You're the coolest girlfriend, Mac." He paused. "Oh, no, it won't be very interesting, but I can tell you about it if you want? Swinger's parties are mostly just kind of old people, banging. To make it interesting again. Why? Oh, I just like the banging. Yup. Yup. Okay, see you tonight."

He hung up, tucked his phone away, and extended his elbow to Veronica. "I'm all yours."

"Lucky, lucky me." She took his arm.

He tucked her in close, patting her hand. "No worries, Ronnie. I got your back."

She slanted a look up at him, swallowing. "Uh, thanks. Dick."

"But if you change your answer from ass first to tits first, I'm happy to have those, too."

"Still no."

#

When they got inside, it was not what Veronica had expected. "Wait, why is everybody wearing so many clothes?"

"Story of my life, man." Dick sighed. "Story of my life."

"They're just…talking." She swiveled, peering into side rooms of the mansion. Free standing Greek pillar, check. Fake uncomfortable French couch, check. All the accoutrements of a new money sex party were accounted for, just not the sex. The people behind her were chatting about…traffic on the 101? "Small talking like it's a cocktail party." She spat it like an accusation.

Even the bad cocktails were in evidence. Lots of olives for the men, bright colors for the ladies. Everything hoisted in a martini glass, to make the person holding it look skinnier.

Dick steered her around a set of couples chatting about different de-wormers for their dogs, then halfway behind a potted plant on another Styrofoam-core Greek pillar. "Duh, it's not an orgy. How many swinger's parties have you been to?"

"Maybe the ones I've been to haven't been as kindergarten as yours." She looked down her nose at him. "Since there was actual nudity involved."

He smirked. "Yeah, for sure. You've been to lots of orgies. Like they'd invite you twice, after all the blood got on the rug from where you bit off your partner's head after the mating dance."

He swiped a bright pink martini glass off a passing tray and gulped it in one swig of undamaged masculinity. Propped the tiny umbrella behind his ear like a flower. "The only dude on earth tough enough to withstand your venom," he opined, "is Logan Echolls."

"Why don't you say his very recognizable name a little louder, honey-dick," she simpered, hooking a hand behind his neck and leaning in like they were about to kiss. Just until a group passed, laughing about the latest South Park episode, and she released him with a scowl. "Ugh, that drink made your breath smell like Barbies."

He laughed and snagged something diamond-clear off the next waiter's tray. "Try this. It's as bitter as your personality. You'll like it!"

"Unattended drink at the discount outlet mall of orgies?" Her fingers curled away from the stem. "I think not."

"Bah." Dick snorted. "Nobody roofies anybody at these parties. First, cause then the banging would be just as sleepy as your marriage. Second, cause you're already banging in pairs. With your honey. So like, pretty sure they'd notice if you passed out and peed yourself."

This made a certain kind of sense, so Veronica took the drink. Sipped. It was complex, bitter, but with a bright shine of flavor at the edges that reminded her of Logan's most sardonic smiles. She took another sip.

"Hmm, go easy, Miss Teen Detective," Dick warned. "Those things pack a punch like your boyfriend after the prom."

"Why not get wasted? Considering what a waste of time this is." She turned to survey the room. A business card was being passed. She hoisted her phone, activated the zoom as she pretended to take a selfie. The card was for someone's accountant. Lordy. "The case is for a guy who's trafficking illegal toys. He—"

Dick frowned. "Wait. Why do you care if some kid's firetruck shows up labeled Fisher Rice?"

"Because they're painted with cheap, toxic paints," she said. "Gave one four-year-old a seizure and turned another one blind. That's the one whose mom hired me. The cops told her the distribution network was too complicated to trace, but I did that by Tuesday. I have enough to shut it down, but until I have the honcho himself, he'll just open a new scheme and it'll be an eye for an eye until the whole preschool is blind."

"Whoa. That's messed up." Dick tilted his head, the purposeful sweep of his hair losing a little of its gel clasp and falling over his forehead. "So wait, if the case is important, why do you want to leave when this party's just getting started?"

"So the toy warehouse has this executive suite in it—very fancy office, private bathroom." Gilded drains, and if that wasn't the douchiest thing she'd ever seen in nineteen years of living in southern California, she wasn't sure what was. "I planted a bunch of cameras to see who was in charge, since a guy like that doesn't let anybody use his bathroom. I got a shot of a dude standing up off the toilet, and a distinctive Bugs Bunny tattoo on his behind. Problem is, he didn't turn the right way, so I didn't get his face."

He smirked. "Classic rookie mistake to go straight for the ass, forget the face." He slung an arm around her, his cocktail umbrella falling and bumping her shoulder on the way down. "Stick with me, kid, I'll teach you to go straight for the d-day, then you won't care about the ugly mug up top."

"Ha. Ha." She took another sip of her drink, which was actually kind of amazing? She made a note to find that waiter and see what the name of the cocktail was. He'd had distinctive shoes with squared off laces, so it should be a breeze. "Anyway, through the regular old digging-through-boring-paperwork detective stuff, I've got the suspects narrowed down to two potentials, one of whom likes to frequent these parties."

"So if we can get his full moon to shine down on us, we'll know which of the two is hawking toxic toys." Dick nodded. "I gotcha, Bobcat."

She full-body shuddered. "Dick. You may have been inside me, but please. Never. Call me that again."

"Why not? The story behind the nickname is epic." He winked at her.

"He told you that?" she half-shrieked. Mentally downgraded Logan's getting laid forecast from "Probably tonight" to "Next week if he grovels."

"When you were broken up one time. He'd been crying all day and it was way late at night. I'd already tried booze, video games, surfing, and uppers and we were outta fucking Kleenex. I asked him why you, why not a thousand other hot chicks." Dick's shoulders sagged. "And he told me."

Veronica caught her breath. Her heart felt bruised, like he'd just given it a sharp kick, and left it swollen a little too big in her chest.

Dick shook himself. "Ugh, now I'm sad. Let's go bang somebody to cheer up. Ugh, I can't bang anybody because Mac!" He shook his head even harder. "Maybe they do roofie those drinks. I forgot about Mac for a second." He perked up. "Whoa, I totally get what Logan meant now in a whole other way. When you find your person it's like…the ring of power, man. There's really only one. Except oh…" He deflated like a stabbed bouncy castle. "What if she dumps me? Dammit! That's why he cries for so long when you're broken up!"

Veronica re-upgraded Logan's getting laid status to "Several times, tonight." Texted him a quick "Good luck and your ass looks hot in that tuxedo" because Logan was well aware that "your ass looks hot" was about as close as Veronica Mars ever got to a tearful declaration of love.

That done, Veronica removed Dick's empty drink from his hand and set it on the pillar next to a plant that looked like it'd soaked up a few drinks already tonight. "And that's enough for you, champ. You ever wonder why sorority girls are so up and down after they drink those pink things?"

"Because they taste awesome?" He rebounded. "But ugh, what if all that sugar makes me fat?" Sagged again.

"Right." She patted him on the shoulder. "Anyway, if we leave now, we can still see Mac on stage getting that award, and I bet that'll cheer you up. She did look really hot in that dress."

"She did!" He beamed. "But wait, I know how to get you a look at that guy's ass. And as much as I'd like another look at Mac's ass, I probably shouldn't blind a toddler for it." He shook his head. "Damn, those pink ones are strong. What I meant was, I don't want to let a guy with a tattooed ass get away with blinding babies. With paint, though, not with his tattooed parts."

Veronica's agile mind tried to sort all this out. What she came up with was, "If everyone's just trading accountant's cards and de-wormer secrets, how exactly can you get me a look at that guy's, erm, tattoo?"

"Easy. This is just the flirting." He gestured at the room. "You mingle, you drink a few of those Barbie Bipolars, and you decide which couple you want to bang. Once you pick your flavor, there are bedrooms for the rest."

She stared at him. Her agile mind un-agilifying rapidly.

"So we can't just roam around visually eavesdropping on people's sex-capades?"

"Nope."

"We have to small talk."

"Yup."

"And they have to like us. To solve this case."

At this, Dick started to look concerned for the first time. "Good point. Maybe I should have brought Mac. But shit, Mac's busy at that award thing!"

She smacked him. "Thanks a lot, Dick."

"What?" It took him three long seconds to process. "Oh, right. Sorry, I thought you knew you weren't that charming, though."

"I'm charming!"

He flinched at her murder eyes. "Yeah right, I know! I'm charmed. I'm charmed!"

She took another drink of the Logan drink, even though she was starting to feel it a little. He went right to your head, Logan. She glanced at the glass, remembering her boyfriend hadn't actually made it. It really did taste as sharp as his tongue. She missed Logan, suddenly. He never looked at her like she wasn't charming.

"Okay, tell you what," Dick said, putting an arm around her. "You're plenty hot."

"Um, thank you?" That was dressed like a compliment, but at this point she was pre-offended when anything came out of his mouth.

"And I'm plenty charming," Dick said. "So you find the Bugs Bunny dude, swoop in looking hot and mean, and I'll do the rest."

"That's really how it works at swinger's orgies?"

"Bro, that's how it works everywhere," Dick said, with feeling. Apparently, the Barbie Bipolar had made it to its philosophical phase. Veronica was strangely touched he had called her "bro." Her face moved two notches meaner in immediate response to "feelings" and Dick nodded. "Right, just like that."

Veronica grimaced and took a tighter grip on her Logan drink. Slid out from under Dick's arm and grabbed his hand with her other. His left, in case he needed to shoot anything with the gun Logan had personally strapped to his ankle. "Let's cruise, partner."

"Am I really your partner?" Dick sniffled and snatched another pink drink off a tray. Veronica whirled, deliberately knocking it out of his hand as she pulled his face down into hers and backed herself right up against a halfway-opened bedroom door.

"My partner in life and love," she oozed at him as the waiter glared at them and snatched up the fallen glass.

"No issing-kay!" Dick hissed against her cheek, mashing his mouth to her nose-upper-lip region to make it look legit. "I don't want to lose any eeth-tay!"

"Just put your hands up my skirt then, jeez." She dropped her head into mouthing his neck in a very saliva-forward way, using the angle to peer inside the bedroom. She'd clocked both women and one of the men so far, but her suspect might already be in there and if he was, this was her only chance to glimpse his southern hemisphere.

"Um." Dick's hands inched from her knees up into the slit of her gown. "Just pinch me if I accidentally sneak past Switzerland. No biting, okay?"

"Whatever," she breathed, gobbling at his neck and pulling the collar of his tuxedo down with one very passionate hand so she could one-eye-squint past it through the crack in the door. That was definitely a tattoo. Right on the crack of that guy's very-much-not-a-door. But what was it?

"No biting," Dick whisper-moaned, his body tense. "You promised! If you get a poke, or break the skin, I'm blaming you for both."

She shoved her face into his neck, quashing her urge to laugh. "Okay, but the real question is, who will you tell on me to?"

"Obviously Mac for the first, Logan for the second, and you'll be in trouble for both."

"No, you will!" She flipped him, slamming his back against the wall hard enough to knock the door open another inch. His hand up her skirt gripped her thigh with all the fear of cresting the peak of a rollercoaster at Disneyland.

"No, you will," he volleyed back, motorboating her neck to try to look passionate. It tickled like hell and Veronica had to bite her lip until it started to taste coppery, trying not to laugh.

Dick swatted at her mouth. "Stop it. If you bite your lip he'll think I did it."

"Quit it." She slapped back at him, her eye still on the room. "Put your hands back up my skirt."

"Yes, boss."

"What was that? Are you doing shadow puppets in there?"

"No!"

"You totally are."

"I totally am."

"Dammit, Dick, look like you're into me so I can pretend to take a steamy selfie. I need to zoom in on that tattoo."

"But I didn't have any molly yet!" he whined, but his shadow puppets got obediently raucous enough under her skirt that a couple passing by in the hall stopped to watch.

"Fuck," she said.

"Uh, that was not on the Mac-approved activity list, bro," Dick reminded her.

She dropped her leg from his hip, half-squashing a shadow-puppet duck in the process. "It's just his mom's name."

"On his ass?" Dick grimaced and closed the door on the group with a bang. "No thank you."

She did laugh out loud at that, downing the last sip of her diamond-clear Logan drink and eyeing the hallway for another waiter. "Where would Colonel Mustard hide a candlestick?"

"I don't think you want me to answer that." Dick leered. She flicked him. "Oh, you mean the drawing room!"

She brightened, and not just because the next tray had held a Logan cocktail. "Had" being the operative tense there. "Hey, you followed my banter!"

"I did!" He high-fived himself, and they both giggled all the way down to the hall, peeking into the drawing room. Then a sitting room. Then a…macramé room? That one made Dick shudder, but she yanked him in anyway when she saw who was seated with legs crossed in the European style beneath a yarn-choked hanging plant.

"I just love macramé!" she said brightly. "And dogs! Without worms! Say, do you know a good accountant? I'm just hopeless with numbers…" She giggled.

The elegantly-clad man on the couch looked at her quellingly. His gaze barely flicked past her face before he gave her up as lost and turned his gaze away.

Veronica frowned and bolstered herself with another cuttingly-complex sip of her Logan cocktail. The last time a man had looked at her without stealing at least a glance at her tits had been a lot of years ago. The training bra years, to be specific.

"Hot and mean," Dick whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

"Right." She sat down on the other couch and gave the suspect her "look twice and I'll taser you" face. He sipped his drink. He had the same cocktail as her. She sipped hers back, unblinking.

He arched a cutting eyebrow. Raised his glass an eighth of an inch. She declined to raise hers back. The séance of a ghost's smile flickered across his mouth. He looked marginally less pissed off to be sharing a room with her.

Dick nodded at the suspect, just a chin tick. Lots of eye contact. This got him an eyelash flare. Veronica was rapt.

She was a bit of a student of human nature. Usually left her wishing she'd audited the class instead of taking the whole seminar, but she had to admit, it did tend to intrigue when she saw brand new body language. Especially when it was from a man in a three-piece suit that would make Logan's closet slink away in shame at the number of commas on their price tags. Who maybe had gilded drains. And a toddler or two on his karmic tab.

She took a gamble and swapped to his couch, still not saying a word. Dick was eyelash flaring at her now, so obvious people probably see his signal from the foyer. Whatever. It'd be a cold day in the Antarctica of Hell when she took Dick Casablancas' instincts over her own on a case. She put her hand on the guy's knee. Beneath the fine-woven wool of his trousers, his leg flexed.

He cleared his throat, delicately.

"Look, man…" Dick chuckled in that explain-the-little-lady's-behavior embarrassed tone that she'd been hearing since she was still in pink onesies. She glared at him. He propped up his chin with an engrossed hand, smiling at their companion. His finger pointing directly at the other guy's chest. She checked, but there was no bulge of a shoulder holster. Just a pocket square. Black and grey pinstripes. She arched an in-character eyebrow—hot, mean—to her partner. Dick tipped his head to the guy's right.

Okay, that was weird. His suit had pockets for pocket squares on both sides, not just the side he was using. What did it mean that it was on the right? Was that some kind of orgy code?

"Honey, I'm bored…" she said, in the mantra of the rich, as she lifted her phone and languidly googled. She was three search terms in before she came across something called the hanky code. Black was S&M and okay, that might explain why Dick was eyelash-flaring her so frantically but c'mon, it's not like she couldn't take a bit of a spanking if it was for a case. Besides, if they needed to see this guy's backside she'd have to talk it around so she was the one wielding the crop. Hot and mean was fitting in nicely to this, actually. She scrolled further. If that was black, then what was gray…

Before she could find it, another impeccably dressed three-piece suit came in, with two fresh drinks as clear as Veronica's mind after four or five orgasms and a ham sandwich. Unfortunately, the three-piece suit had a man in it. Welp, that explained why Dick had tried to warn her off flirting. She grimaced at him and swapped back to his couch.

Clearly, she should have let him take Logan to go undercover for this particular party. Sometimes, you just had to call it a day. But Dick's jaw flexed, doubling down in that look she recognized from his not-so-viral YouTube video of him running over his own foot while ghost-riding the whip. He was all in, regardless of what a bad idea it was.

She considered, briefly, if she should be concerned that she could feel a matching expression on her own face. The mother of the toddler who hired her had run through a full box of Kleenex and the sleeve of Veronica's spare hoodie, telling her the story of the blinding paints.

Veronica put on a disinterested look to eye her suspect's boyfriend. He also had a pocket square in black and gray stripes, and Dick's eyes widened, flicking to the right. Which was the side this new guy's pocket square was on. Unobtrusively, Veronica thumbed her phone back on and whizzed past the color codes in search of side codes.

"I see the issue now," Dick said.

He stood up, and the new guy said, "We're not really in the market for a mixed bag and—" Before he could finish, Dick grabbed him by the tie and sat him the fuck down, both those drinks splashing onto his excruciatingly well-cut suit. Now Dick was getting the eyelash flares. From both men.

Veronica set her phone down. She was beginning to understand what hankies on the right side might mean. Neither of these guys was the one who liked to wield the crop.

"But she—" The first guy said, his haughty act cracked by his breathless voice as he wet his lips and looked up pleadingly at Dick.

"She's going to watch." Dick slammed the words like a winning hand going down on the table. "And you two are going to put on quite the show for her." He jerked his chin toward the door without breaking eye contact with either of them. The suspect scrambled to obey, his slick-soled dress shoes sliding on the carpet as he practically jogged to close the door. And lock it.

Well, okay. Veronica crossed her legs and relieved the second guy of one of his partially-spilled drinks. "You won't be needing this." She took a Logan-flavored sip and sat back for the show.

Dick had them begging by five minutes in. Shirtless by seven. By eight she was ready to give him the standing ovation because damn, who knew a Casablancas had it in them to top two rich crime-kingpins at once? But that could have just been an overindulgence of enthusiasm from overindulging in Logan cocktails. Veronica belatedly set one of her empty martini flutes on the table next to her. Glanced at it guiltily. Realized she was already sipping from the one in her other hand.

"Stop it!" she whispered to her hand. Her drinkless hand was misbehaving, too, lifting her phone and opening a text to Logan. "I mi—" it started typing and she glared at that one, too. "No drunk texting!"

"No pictures!" the suspect yelped.

Dick slapped him. "The lady can have whatever she wants. And you just earned a punishment, young man." He dropped back on the opposite couch, arms up along its back as he left his two new acquaintances on their knees on the carpet. "Drop your pants and get that ass up over my knee."

His partner was shivering, licking his lips. A bulge threatening to ruin the impeccable tailoring of his suit, and possibly his zipper. Veronica wondered if anybody would mind if she played Candy Crush until it was time to take the money shot.

She texted Logan before she remembered she wasn't supposed to be drunk texting.

Veronica: You think lasagna or pizza tonight?

Logan: Eh, we had lasagna on Tuesday. And I think you're pretty, too.

She double-taked. Double-took? She double-thought that through as she closed one eye to squint at her screen. Apparently someone had texted: You think lasagna or pizza tonight? PS you're pretty in that tuxedo. From her phone.

The whack of Dick's hand against bare criminal ass brought her head back up, and whoops, yup, that was the Bugs Bunny tattoo. Front and center.

"Ow!" the guy whined, squirming on Dick's lap so his pants fell a little farther.

"That's for being mean to some little kid!" Dick yelped.

"Tha…tha…That's all, folks!" Veronica quoted as she snapped a very incriminating picture of the criminal, ass up and Bugs Bunny tattoo in the same frame as his face.

"Give him another," Veronica said as she clicked off a few more shots. "For the gilded drains."

Dick enthusiastically walloped him another before the boyfriend caught on and jumped to his feet. "Beau!" he hissed. "They know."

"Shut up, I'm getting it good now," the criminal panted, gripping Dick's leg and pressing his sweating forehead into the couch. He was clearly half-past hearing anything they'd said.

"Ew! I'm not getting your rocks off for free, you toy-fucker-upper!" Dick threw him off his lap and the guy bounced off the coffee table and sprawled onto the floor, expensive pants around his ankles as Veronica chortled and snapped a shot of that, too. "Darn, this is fun!"

Dick grinned at her. "You should have joined the Phi Sigs, man. This is nothing compared to the average Friday night over there."

"Give me that phone." Still pantsless, the criminal fumbled a gun out of the ankle holster Veronica had clocked as soon as he came in.

She sneered. "Please. I've seen your score at the shooting range." She pulled out her own gun. "Besides, I don't want to lose my high score on Candy Crush on this phone. You know how many stakeouts it took me to rack that up?"

"Pshaw," Dick said. "Everybody knows Logan ups your Candy Crush score for you when you go in for the kill on stakeouts."

"That is Cone of Silence classified!" Veronica whined, just as the man cocked his gun. She sighed.

Well, apparently she was going to shoot someone tonight, but it wasn't going to be Dick. Who could have seen that coming?

Author's Note: Next up: the Cone of Silence lifts…