'We'll, your hunch was right,' said Dr Hemmingway, as she sliced her cod about with surgical precision. 'That bolt was made of iron.' Melissa was wearing a powder-blue strapless dress that showed some of her cleavage off, it came down to above her knees, a stark contrast to the shapeless smocks she'd been wearing earlier. Her red hair was worn up, with a few wisps curling down about her face.

'A simple deduction, really,' explained Wesley as he took a bite of chicken. He was wearing a nice black suit with a crisp white shirt, it was tight enough to show off his physique, which he was quite proud about, but no so tight as to cut off his circulation. The tie his suit came with was missing, he wanted to show an air of mystery and danger about himself.

He'd suspected that there was nothing wrong with the door when he saw it. A huge slab of solid oak that took two of LA's finest to smash open wasn't on a simple hinge switch or anything, he'd checked that when he walked in. No, it was the bolt that was the solution. Being iron meant it was magnetic, all the killer would have to have done was close the door and slide the bolt across with a magnet, ingenius, he was also quite disturbed. Any mind that could come up with such an idea was obviouly creative enough to try and baffle the police another time. Perhaps another murder was too follow, and another, until they caught the perpetrator. He looked at his date, and then saw something on one of her elegant fingers, it was a ring, with a large ruby in it. 'You're not married, are you?'

'Why do you ask? Oh, this?' she put her cutlery down and twisted the ring round on the index finger of her right hand. 'No, this was my mom's. The only thing I have of her's, unless you include sexual appetite.'

'Uhm, yes,' Wesley wasn't sure how to say anything after that crack.

'Joking, Wes,' said Melissa. 'I have a wicked sense of humour.'

'Well I have quite an acerbic wit, too.'

'Tell me, tell me about your detective agency. Had any difficult cases?'

'Well it isn't really my agency,' said Wesley. He clicked his fingers and the waiter came over and filled his glass up with a red wine. After he'd done his job he put it back in the ice container and walked off. 'It's my friends, he's Angel.'

'Angel, unusual name.'

'He's an unusual chap.'

'What kind of cases do you normally take, if you don't mind me asking?'

'Husbands wanting to know if their wives are cheating, the usual,' replied Wesley. He couldn't tell her about the demonology aspect to her. Hardly anybody from the waking world knew of vampires and demons, those that did often fell in too far, and too fast and ended up missing. 'Changing the subject, did the autopsies reveal anything?'

'Here we are, having a nice meal in Franco's, very difficult to get reservations I may add, and you bring up dead bodies.'

'I didn't think this was solely pleasure, I thought we'd discuss business too.'

'Well, actually. The lab ran a bloodwork on the female, turns out she had some strange stuff in her blood.'

'Drugs?'

'No, something else. I've got one of the other doctors doing a full post mortem as we speak. Whatever it is, we'll find the cause.'

'What about Griffon himself?'

'Nothing out of the ordinary, alcohol and some prescription medication.'

'Do you think it would be possible for me to have another look around the murder scene?' asked Wesley. 'I have some things running around my head, nagging doubts.'

'I don't see why not,' said Melissa. She took a sip of her wine and sloshed it round her mouth for a moment, it had a taste of strawberries.

'Can you have detective Lockley meet me there?'

'Not a problem. The Police Chief was a friend of Griffons, they moved in the same social circuit, he's given Lockley top-priority on the case. Says he wants it solved post haste. Now, is that all of the business out of the way?'

***

Wesley was woken up when a shaft of light flickered across his eyes. He opened his eyes slowly, and saw Melissa Hemmingway pulling back the curtains. Her hair cascaded around her face, she was wearing one of Wesleys shirts, a blue and white vertical stripped affair.

'I said you'd meet Lockley at nine sharp,' she said as she saw Wesley awake. 'You'd better get ready, it's half past eight.'

He remebered last night vividly, after they left Franco's they went and saw a movie. He couldn't remember which one, they'd spent most of it sucking face in the back row. As they came home they couldn't keep their hands off one another, they barely got through the doorway of Wesley's apartment when pure animal lust took over. The experience was wild, beyond anything Wesley had known before, he had no idea it could be so . . . special.

'I'll see you later, I've gotta go home and change.' She was pulling on her blue dress, she'd found it on the hallway floor in a heap. She went into the bedroom wardrobe and took out one of Wesley's jackets which she put on and then she was gone. Suddenly Wesley was aware that his sheets were covered in sweat, his and hers. He was so thirsty. After putting on the kettle for a cup of tea he took a quick shower, got changed and met Lockley at the dead man's apartment, it was only five past when he walked out of the lift on the twelth floor.

***

This time the doorway leading into Griffon's apartment was covered with Police Line: Do Not Cross tape, he lifted up the blue and white plastic and ducked underneath. Standing in the middle of the cavernous chamber was detective Lockley. She was wearing one of her trademark professional trouser suits, this one was light brown. In her hands was a brown folder. 'Good morning, Wesley,' she said when she saw him go under the tape.

'Good morning, detective,' greeted Wesley. 'I just had some things to go over here, a few ideas. Sorry if I took you out of serious investigation, I need someone to bounce ideas off.'

'Don't worry, we've drawn a complete blank. Frankly I thought you'd help things along.'

'Did Melissa, I mean Doctor Hemmingway, tell you about the study door?'

'Yeah, whoever it was was real cunning. Using a magnet to move the bolt while outside, smart.'

'But it did nothing,' said Wesley. 'It wouldn't make us think it was suicide, so why did they do it, thats what I've been asking myself.'

'You got me,' replied Lockley. 'Here,' she handed him the folder, 'this is everything we've got on the case, witness statements, lab reports, everything.'

Wesley stood there and opened the folder up, on the front was a tiny white label which read: Griffon Case, he looked at the first page, it was a report about the security in the place. Every window had bars, even the upstairs balcony was bolted and locked from the inside. Even assuming someone could get onto the thirteenth floor the barred doors would be impossible to get past. 'It says here the front door was locked.'

'Yeah, I talked to the officer who had to break it down. It was locked and deadbolted, the building manager had to open it with his master set.'

'Apparently it's the only way in and out.'

'If that's what the report says then I'd have to agree.'

Wesley digested the rest of the report. He read most of the windows had been painted shut. An air conditioner in the bedroom allowed cool air to flow into it, but the bathroom had no such luxuries. 'Where's the bathroom?' asked Wesley.

'Past where the dead girl was, second on the left.'

'Thank you, can you come with me?'

'Wes, we're on a case here.'

'Just follow me, please.'

He opened the door, like the other areas of the house the bathroom was suitably large, some three square metres with black and a white chessboard tiled floor. Across from the door way was the bath, a white plastic thing large enough to fit three people into it. To his left, behind the opened door was a glass and steel shower unit, Wesley noticed that it had three showerheads, each to spout piping hot water onto the user from three different angles. The toilet, elegant enough for the Queen, was just past the shower, it had a wooden seat. On top of the cistern was three rolls of four-ply toilet paper, oh how the other half live, though Wesley. On his right was a sink, pink marble with gold taps. A painting which looked like someone had thrown up on it was hung above sink, the only window in the room was over the end of the bath. The room was dark because it faced west, so Wesley flicked the lightswitch. Four conical lamps, one on each wall, snapped on, their light cast had a pink hue to it. 'Aha,' said Wesley as he saw the window.

'Do you think it opens?' asked Lockley. She was standing in the doorway, watching Wesley as he stood in the bath and grabbed the lever at the bottom of the glass.

The window itself was a scant metre wide and metre high, a perfect square. The glass in the panes was frosted to preserve privacy, and the shape of bars could be made out behind it. Wesley yanked the lever up and felt something give, he pulled it towards himself and the right side of the window opened a crack. He pulled harder and it opened more. He felt the plastic frame hit the steel bars and stopped his effort. The window had opened some twenty five centimetres.

'Well I'll be,' stated Lockley. 'That's enough for a person to slip through. You'd have to be slim, but it's enough.'

Wesley poked his head out of the open window. The people down below were tiny, going about their lives as he watched from above. He turned his gaze horizontally and looked at the buildings across from him. Because the bathroom was right at the corner or the building it could be approached from any place. He looked up and saw the steel bars of the balcony. 'Have you checked the balcony?'

'Of course,' replied Lockley. 'What do you think this is, Hick County? We take our murders seriously.'

'Anything up there?'

'Not a thing. Griffon had a couple of potted plants up there, but nothing out of the ordinary.'

'Care if I take a look?'

'Let's go.'

As Wesley went up the staircase he saw a complete winerack obscured from view by said thing. Griffon was some collector, he must've had a hundred bottles, mostly red, but some white. They passed into Griffon's bedroom. The huge bed sat against the outside wall, the beige sheets were immaculate. There was a big trunk at the bottom of it, wooden and iron, a good few centuries old, no doubt. Above the bed was a hanging piece of art, a large piece some two metres across and metre high. Depicted on it was a classic scene of farmers bringing in the crop, shire horses and ploughs were in the middle distance while a brilliant blue sky lined it. On the right of the bed was a glass door with white plastic bits around it. Lockley depressed a black handle and slid it across. The noise it made was reminiscent of the Original Star Trek's sliding doors opening.

Wesley stepped out onto the balcony, the wind swept his hair across and his long, black coat flicked about. The view was amazing, he could see most of Glendale, in the distance was the verdant Griffith Park. The floor he was standing on was made of steel planks painted a midknight black. He took hold of the cold, metal rail, and looked down the sides. The balcony was over a metre wide and extended along the entirety of Griffons apartment. On either side was the afformentioned plant pots with some type of Azalea in it.

'I take it the door was locked?'

'Yeah. The boys left it open after they checked the place, but it was locked tight on the night.'

Wesley looked at the door closely, the mechanisms were all internal, and there was no hole on the outside. He felt around the plastic but found nothing of consequence. Looking up as he walked along the balcony he could see the side of the roof. It was at least five metres up. Not impossible if someone dropped down.

'Can you get to the roof?'

'Yeah. All the residents have a key, apparently Six Bee like to sunbathe nude up there.'

'You asked the residents that?'

'No, they just said it. Said they were up there on the infamous night. They thought someone was watching them up there, they came down about six. We had a laugh, nobody would peep at them, they're about seventy.'

Wesley felt the rail as he went down to the corner, above where the bathroom was. He looked through the small gaps in the floor and saw the ajar window. His fingers probed the metal rail and found the small indentation in it. It was a thin mark a few millimetres thick and it ran around the outside of the bar, not at all on the inside. A theory began to piece itself together.

As Lockley looked out at the vista her cell phone started to chirp. She pulled it out of her inside jacket pocket and flipped the bottom bit down. The wind began to whistle in her ears and she went inside to take the call, leaving Wesley alone with his thoughts.

Lockley walked back onto the balcony a minute later. She folded her phone back to its tiny size and put it back in her pocket. She looked pensive.

'Do you have an ID for the girl?' asked Wesley.

'No. Not yet. But that was about her.'

'What is it?'

'Dr Hemmingway found something during her autopsy. She's found a brain tumour, quite some size, she'd have been dead in a few weeks at most. It was untreatable.'

'She had a brain tumour, yet didn't live long enough to die from it.'

'What?' asked Lockley.

'Sorry. Just thinking out loud.'

'Have you seen all you want out here?'

'All I need too, yes.'

'Well lets go inside, I'm freezing my eyeballs.'

'You should have invested in a coat like mine,' suggested Wesley. 'Not only does it keep you warm and dry, but it looks cool too. Can I see the-'

'Don't tell me, the roof?'

'Yes.'

'Come on, I'll lock up.'

They went outside the apartment and Lockley did up the police-issue padlock they'd placed on the door. She led Wesley up three flights of stairs, the last door was a steel number with just a keyhole. Lockley pulled out a small Yale key from her pocket and undid the lock. It led onto the roof, nothing much there apart from a collection of satellite dishes and antenna. Wesley walked over to the west face and looked over the side. The lip of the building came up just thirty centimetres. Below him was the balcony. He walked right up to the corner and looked at the bricks at the top. As he'd suspected there was a trough-like mark that ran along the top and got deeper towards the edge.

'What is it?' asked Lockley. She had to shout to get her voice above the howling wind.

'Let's go inside where we can talk properly,' replied Wesley.