Legal stuff: don't own 'em.
A/N: i have entirely too much time on my hands...
The sound of classical music came to Booker's ears as he pulled up to the white house. Not the conventional classical orchestra, he noted as he walked up the path. It had an incredible beat to it, and a thumping bass line that fairly dared one to keep up with it. Booker noticed the curtains over the bay windows weren't shut all the way and with a grin he decided to have a look.
And there she was, dressed in dance clothes, performing some of the most incredible moves he had ever seen. Well, now he understood why she'd been accepted into Julliard. Her talent was unmatched.
He didn't move as she bent backwards into a perfect flip, slowing her motions to make every part of it flawless. Jackie was a dancer.
She was also a singer, and she played a mean piano. Booker remembered their laughing duets, each playing one half of a song on the pristine white and ebony keys, pushing each other playfully. He remembered her fingers flying over the keys, playing the Minute Waltz faster than he had ever been able to. It was a devilishly hard song to play, and she used to do it for the sole purpose of humiliating him.
The music stopped, bringing him out of his reverie, and Booker rang the doorbell.
The door opened slowly, and Jackie's smile bloomed as she swept her hair back from his face. "Why, hello, Officer. Is there a problem?"
"You're music's too loud," Booker said, putting on a mock-serious face. "I'm going to have to write you a citation for disturbing the peace." He laughed suddenly, pulling off his hat and kissing her.
"So," Jackie said, pulling him inside. "You hungry? I ordered a pizza about ten minutes ago."
"I could do pizza," Booker said, going over to the big stereo system she had pulled out into the living room. "I heard this music before. Were you dancing?" As if he didn't know.
"Yep." Jackie switched the music on again, this time a salsa beat that moved her right around him. "I was practicing an old routine from Julliard. Meanwhile," And she pulled him into the dance. "I have something to ask you."
"Fire away," Booker said, spinning her.
"There's a dance at Verdant's on Saturday. You up for it?"
"I thought I was supposed to ask you."
"It's 2002. Things have changed," Jackie swung around and switched off the music. "Pizza's on the table." She swept into the kitchen, singing a Spanish song at the top of her lungs.
They talked for a while, and Booker agreed to pick her up at six-thirty on Saturday night.
"So, what's happened with that police case on Kayla's stabbing?" Jackie asked, pulling a long thread of cheese from her pizza.
"Nothing," Booker sighed. "We've come up with only one lead that's absolutely ridiculous because he was arrested in New York City three months ago."
Jackie's eyes darkened momentarily, but she brushed it aside and nodded. "That really sucks. Are you sure there's no one who's jealous of Kayla? Or her boyfriend? That's Jett Jackson right? Crazy Silverstone kid."
Booker nodded. "Yep, Silverstone himself. He's got a huge fan base, but no one with bad intentions. As for Kayla, she's not famous, but she's popular. But I don't know of anyone who could be angry at her."
"Maybe they're angry at the fact that Jett and Kayla are dating?" Jackie suggesting, confirming one of Booker's earlier suspicions. "Somebody out there is bound to have a crush on Jett. He's a superstar. And he is kinda cute."
"Yeah, he's a celebrity. He's huge all over America. But nobody, like I said, with bad intentions has ever come up."
"They go to Wilsted High, right?" Jackie put her plate down. "Maybe someone who knows them is angry."
"Don't you sound like the perfect detective," Booker said, grinning.
Jackie looked away, her smile waning a bit. "Yeah... Anyway, if you're sure it's no one major, no notorious criminal, it can't be anyone other than someone right here in Wilsted. Does Jett have any ex-girlfriends? Kayla any ex-boyfriends? Any obsessive fans?"
"Not that I know of," Booker said. "That's why it's so frustrating. We don't know. There's no trail or anything."
"I wish I could help," Jackie sighed. "I love mysteries. And this is way more than any Nancy Drew crap."
Booker laughed, and looked down at his watch. "Whoa." He had been on a two-hour break. Wood wouldn't be happy. "I'd better get back to work."
"Did you read my letter?" she asked, following him to the door.
"Yes, I did," Booker said, turning back to her. She swung her arms up around his neck. "And I will keep it forever."
Jackie giggled, a sound Booker hadn't heard in a while, and kissed him. "I don't know, hon. Forever's a long time."
"Forever isn't long enough," Booker said, drawing her back into a kiss. "I'll be back later."