A/N: Ha! Told you I wouldn't keep you waiting for long! Or maybe I just told March Hare... Well, in any case, here's chapter six! And, if I do say so myself, and I think I will, it's quite a revealing one. So strap yourselves in! Oh wait, don't buckle up yet. First I have to reply to some of your nice reviews. Jekyll's Affliction, you were right about the rain being symbolic. Sometimes things get us down, like family problems or stuff at work, or just simple things. And a lot of times, they're not really worth worrying about so much. And Hare, thank you soooo much for being my beta reader! You helped me a lot in this chapter. All right! *rubs hands together* Let's get going, shall we?

Disclaimer: Rhodes and Bridges are mine, along with all the other minor characters. But the concept for this story belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and the ideas are contained in full in his first Sherlock Holmes story, "A Study in Scarlet". If you haven't read it, which is highly unlikely, I suggest you do so.

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A Perfect World
a Sherlock Holmes pastiche
by Wakizashi

Chapter Six: A Blinding Flash of the Obvious

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For a while I made no response. It seemed like it took forever for Rhodes' words to sink in. What did this interesting little piece of information signify? Was my friendly, polite massage instructor indeed a member of the Triads, or at least was *once* a member? Was he really responsible for the gruesome murder of Rhodes' client?

Was I going to have to find a new instructor?

"Okay," I finally said, aware that Rhodes had been waiting for my reaction. "So that night, when I socked you in the eye. You were waiting for my instructor?"

He nodded excitedly, as though this new development was the best thing that had happened to his case. Well, I guess that was true, if you ignored the fact that a man who may have dismembered someone had been teaching me about pressure points. The irony was not lost on me. "I was so convinced that Hu would be at the White Lotus that night," he remarked, his eyes keen and quick under his dark brows. "But as it turned out, the club owner told me he never showed up. Until now, I had thought the entire night was wasted. Case-wise," he added, remembering our late-night conversation.

"But now," I broke in, understanding his sudden enthusiasm, "we know why he wasn't there that night. He was teaching my class! Rhodes!" I put my hand on his arm, comprehension washing over me like a flood. "This is perfect! I see Thomas all the time. I could help you prove his involvement in Chan's murder!"

*What* was I *saying*!? I could hear the words coming out of my mouth, but they didn't seem like anything I would say. What would possibly compel me to get involved in this perilous case? I was busy enough already with work, and studying under a potentially homicidal massage instructor. I didn't have time to be following Rhodes all over the city as his blindly devoted assistant.

As if in agreement with my inner agruments, Rhodes was shaking his head. "Absolutely out of the question," he said. "The case is almost solved, and I'm not going to risk your safety. I'm not sure I even like the idea of you knowing all the details." He disregarded the glare I gave him. "It's not safe," he insisted.

"Not safe?" I echoed, annoyed. "And having a deranged killer for a teacher *is* safe? If Hu knew I suspected him of anything, I'd probably be next on his list to carve into cutlets. But I just have this bad feeling, Rhodes. Don't try to do this alone. I want to help you." The truly pathetic thing was, I actually meant it.

Despite his disinclination to put me at risk, Rhodes looked so impossibly moved by my offer to help him; that I would *like* him enough to help him. "You do?" he asked softly, staring at me in amazement. Did he really have no one else to ask? If he didn't, then why the hell *not*?

I smiled, wondering what I was diving into. "Just call me Watson," I said weakly.

The look on Rhodes' face was something I'll remember forever. Still holding his umbrella with one hand, he impulsively used his other to pull me into a crushing hug. I laughed for lack of anything else to do, marveling at how such a charming, handsome, intelligent young man could be as starved for affection as he was. As I wrapped my arms around his upper back, I happened to glance at my watch and gasped. "Uh, Rhodes," I said, tapping his shoulder. "I hate to interrupt our insane little bonding moment, but it's four twenty-five. We have five minutes to get to Ghirardelli Square."

If Rhodes were as dorky as me, he would have said something unnecessary like "Yikes" or "Oh, crap". But he wasn't, so he simply released me from his lung-collapsing embrace and took off running. Sighing with something between exasperation and defeat, I hoisted my purse further up on my shoulder and sprinted after him.

Splashing through puddles with an impressive aquatic display, we raced down the wet streets, barely remembering to stop at the crosswalks. Rhodes, recognizing the risk of the wind turning his umbrella inside out, had decided to close it, therefore becoming as drenched as I was. I took grim satisfaction in this.

Finally, out of breath and soaked to the bone, we arrived at the Square, trying unsuccessfully to shake the rain out of our hair. As Rhodes looked around for his client's widow, I pushed the sodden, light brown strands out of my face, which were obstructing my vision. With a sudden "Ah!", my friend pointed to a small figure sitting on a bench, shielded from the torrents by a big, yellow umbrella.

Belatedly remembering he was supposed to look professional, Rhodes opened his umbrella over us once again and formally took my arm. Together we walked to the woman on the bench, and she rose to greet us. "Mrs. Chan, it's very good to see you again," said Rhodes, bowing respectfully.

Returning the bow, Mae-Lin Chan was the utter embodiment of Asian poise and grace. In height and stature, she was a few inches shorter than I was, and admittedly better dressed. I placed her in her mid-forties, but it was hard to tell. Her china-doll face bore very few creases, but in her deep black eyes was a wisdom that would have seemed more fitting in a much older woman.

"Bridges," began Rhodes, gesturing to the delicate figure before us, "this is Mae-Lin Chan. Mrs. Chan, I would like you to meet my partner, Miss Nadia Bridges."

Partner. He actually said it. I couldn't believe he said it. What was more, I was glad that he said it.

Bowing awkwardly, I gave her a courteous smile. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Chan," I said politely.

"Nice to meet you," she returned. As all three of us sat down on the bench again(eek, wet!), she rested her small hands primly in her lap and spoke to my newly acquired partner. "I suppose I can trust Miss Bridges not to repeat anything I say?" she inquired, more curious than suspicious.

Rhodes nodded, beads of water dripping from his jet-black bangs. "Absolutely. I place the utmost confidence in her, and so can you." Strangely, his statement caused something to tighten in my chest. Why did what Rhodes think of me matter so much? How on earth could someone I had known for only two weeks have such full control over my emotions?

His client merely nodded, satisfied that I wouldn't sell any information she gave me to the Triads. "All right then," she said. "Now, Mr. Rhodes, I want you to know that all that matters is that you find whoever took my Martin away from me, and see that they get what they deserve. Money is of no consequence."

"We feel the same way, Mrs. Chan," he replied, and I was fairly certain that one more fat stack of cash earned for getting his man wouldn't make much difference to my absurdly wealthy friend. "Catching the murderer is all that is important to us. But to do that, we must have your permission to ask you some questions." He looked at her hopefully.

"Of course," she agreed. Rhodes let a small smile escape, which was just a shadow of his full anticipation, before he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a slim notebook and a silver pen. He handed both to me, which I took uncertainly.

He observed my expression and clarified. "Would you be so kind as to take notes on this conversation?" he asked pleasantly. I nodded hastily, flipping the notebook open, and he addressed Mrs. Chan once more. "All right, let's begin. Your husband was married once before, correct?"

"Yes, that's correct," she replied.

"And it was this wife that he married in New York City, whereupon he decided to leave, cutting off all contact with the Triads."

"Yes."

"Her name was Janet Fong, unless I'm mistaken."

"That's right." My borrowed pen flew across the paper as I struggled to keep up with their dialogue.

"I don't suppose," he said slowly, sounding oddly like a lawyer from the deep South, "that you know how long he was married to her before she died of lung cancer?"

"Let me see," she said, taking a thoughtful pause to my infinite relief. I quickly finished the sentence I was writing beofre she began again. "They were together for only three years before her lungs started to show signs of deterioration. The saddest part was that she never touched a cigarette in her life. It was Martin's smoking that was making her sick. He kept denying it, until finally she had to be hospitalized. She didn't last a month." She shook her head mournfully. "After she died, Martin felt so guilty that he resolved to quit smoking. Two years later, he met me."

I wondered how I would be able to handle something as serious as being unintentionally responsible for causing the death of a loved one. I might briefly consider taking my own life, but I doubt I could do it. That would be taking the coward's way out.

Rhodes' voice was a touch more somber as he asked his next question. "Did your husband ever talk about any of his fellow Triad members? Possibly, members who were his friends?"

"Oh, yes," Mrs. Chan replied instantly. "He had quite a few friends who were also Triads. He didn't leave New York because he wanted to find a way out. He was just afraid something would happen to Janet. But he was very close to some of his fellow members. There was Teddy Nguyen, and Daniel Lee... Oh, and Thomas Hu."

My head shot up at the mention of my instructor's name. Mrs. Chan stared at me in surprise, and Rhodes shot a warning glance my way. Quickly I thought of an excuse for my strange behavior; albeit an extremely stupid one. "Cold water down my back," I said with a forced chuckle.

Mrs. Chan nodded slowly, while Rhodes cleared his throat to hide a laugh. "Well, where were we?" he resumed.

Dutifully raising pen to paper, I had a question of my own to ask. "Uh, Mrs. Chan, about these friends of your husband. I'm guessing they knew his first wife?"

"Well, not all of them," she answered. "But Janet and Thomas were close friends since childhood. In fact, Martin grew up with both of them, since they all went to the same school." She sighed. "It must have been very hard for Thomas after they moved."

I resisted the urge to snort in disdain. *I'm sure it was,* I thought, quickly jotting down all the important points; which were quite numerous. It was all making sense now. Hu must have been in love with Janet Fong, and was devastated when she married Martin Chan instead of him. No doubt he had planned to exact revenge on Chan, and take Janet for his own, when he discovered that she had slowly been killed by her husband's second-hand smoke.

It was as if the veil of mystery had been lifted. I caught and held Rhodes' glance for an instant, and I knew we were sharing the same thought: We had him.

"I think that will be all for now, but if you think of anything that might be useful for us to know, don't hesitate to call," he said, rising from the bench. I followed suit, noticing regretfully that the back of my skirt was damp. "Thank you so much for braving the rain to meet us, Mrs. Chan. You have been most helpful."

"I'm glad I could help," she replied. "It was nice meeting you, Miss Bridges." After exchanging polite bows, we departed; Mrs. Chan to her high-rise apartment, and the two of us to... go find something to eat. But you can bet we weren't that hungry for Chinese food.

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"Thomas Hu is as good as ours," I declared, sitting in front of Rhodes' low coffee table with my stockinged feet underneath me. Earlier, we had gone to a nice Italian restaurant for dinner, but we agreed that it would be best not to discuss the case until we went somewhere private. It was either my apartment or his condo. Guess which one we chose?

As Rhodes poured me a cup of oolong tea, I rested my chin on my fist and thought for a moment. "Obviously we know that Hu is the murderer. Why else would he be in San Francisco?" I said, beginning to understand Rhodes' enthusiasm. Slowly but surely, the thrill of detective work was seeping into my marrow. "It's so perfect, Rhodes! It all fits together like a puzzle! Chan marries Hu's sweetheart and leaves the state. Chan kills Hu's sweetheart - not intentionally - by his smoking, so Hu kills Chan. Thus the morbid circle of life is complete," I concluded with a wry smile, raising the cup to my lips. The taste of green tea mingled with other delicate flavors I couldn't quite place.

Throughout my rantings, Rhodes had remained silent, sitting cross-legged on the futon couch and drinking his tea. Now he stared distantly out into space, his face relaxed and contemplative. I was about to get his attention when he spoke up, his low voice soft and thoughtful. "This feels so strange."

I frowned, my teacup halfway to my mouth. "What does?" I asked, lowering it back to the table.

"Hmm?" He looked up sharply, as if just returning from another dimension. "Oh. It's nothing. Never mind. What were you saying?"

"Rhodes!" I threw up my hands in exasperation. "Weren't you listening at all? What's the matter with you?"

He raised his eyebrows slightly. "Many things," he replied and, leaning back and closing his eyes, left me to take the meaning of his remark how I would.

I sighed and took another sip of my tea. "Hey Rhodes, I know I'm a lot stupider than you, but I can still tell when something is bothering one of my friends. You don't have to tell me, but if we're going to be working on this case together, it's not going to be okay for you to keep everything to yourself." I drained the cup and set it down. "I hope you know you can trust me."

"No, I know that, I just..." His eyes remained firmly closed as he spoke. "I've never had anyone to discuss my cases with, much less someone as quick to tie the facts together as you, Bridges. And I've certainly never met anyone who was willing to be my partner. I'm sure you've noticed, I don't have many friends." He gave a minute shrug. "It just... feels strange."

What had happened to this poor man to make him the way he was? Sure, he was proud and arrogant sometimes when it came to his abilities as a detective, and he claimed that he didn't care what others thought of him. But if that were true, why did it mean so much to him that I cared about him?

Rising from the floor, I sat down next to him on the couch. "You want to know something?" I asked him. He opened his eyes and nodded slowly, one eyebrow arched. "Back at Ghirardelli Square, when you introduced me to Mrs. Chan as your partner..." I laughed quietly, shaking my head at my own childishness. "I was so ridiculously happy that I couldn't think. Just the thought of being your partner made me ecstatic beyond words."

Rhodes listened in amazement, as if the idea of anyone being happy to know him was implausible. "I know I was a jerk to you when we first met," I continued, once again feeling that twinge of regret, "but I like you, Rhodes. A lot. And sure, I'm not the smartest person you could find, or the best candidate to be your partner, but if you really want me to, I'd be honored."

A slow smile spread over his features until it became a grin that lit up his pale face. "I really do," he said. He held out his hand, which I took, shaking it formally. And so began the partnership of Rhodes and Bridges. I must say, I concur with the words of my partner on the first day we met:

"It seems that fate, and not coffee, might have been the cause of our little meeting."

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"Now," said Rhodes, eager to get back to the details of *our* case. "It is clear that your theory is the only one that could be correct." My theory? I didn't think he had been listening. "Thomas Hu, so enraged that Chan's smoking was the cause of Janet's death, decided to give him what he believed he deserved. That would explain the Chinese character for 'revenge' that was carved on the victim's forehead."

"And," I added, "why the victim's body was dismembered so professionally. The murderer would have to be well-learned in anatomy, and we know that massage therapists *have* to learn advanced anatomy in order to get their license."

"Precisely. As you said, it all fits together like a puzzle. The only piece still missing, however, is our proof."

I gaped at him. "Proof? What are you talking about, you crazy boy? It's so blatantly obvious that he's guilty! Anyone can see that!"

"You're exactly right," he replied, unaffected by my outburst. "Any person in their right mind could see that Hu is the murderer, if they had all the facts like we do. Our problem is, we don't have any hard evidence. And we need evidence for an arrest warrant."

"We're not breaking into his house," I said instantly.

Rhodes stared at me with false indignance. "Shame on you, Bridges, I would never stoop to that!" He paused. "Although if I had known earlier that you knew where he lived, I might have been tempted."

"I'm sure," I answered sarcastically. "So, breaking-and-entering and burglary charges out of the question, what do you suggest?"

He thought for a moment, and I could almost hear the gears whirring in his head. "Wait!" he exclaimed. "Hu left a message on your machine telling you that tonight's class was cancelled. Something important must have come up for him to call it off. If we knew he was at his house, we could wait for him to leave and follow him on whatever underhanded exploits he no doubt has planned."

"I like the way you think, my friend," I said. "I'll call him to make sure he's there. If he answers, I'll just think of some lame problem, like I forgot what pages to read in my textbook or something. It would seem too suspicious if I hung up on him."

I began to stand up, but Rhodes stopped me with a hand on my arm. "Before we do anything," he said quietly, "I want to make sure that you realize how dangerous this could get; how dangerous it already *is*."

"Of course," I answered. "I know very well what we're getting into, Rhodes. But Thomas Hu is my massage instructor. All this time I thought he was a nice guy, and now I find out he's a ruthless killer. It's important to *me* that I see him locked up. Still," I hastened to add, "It'd be nice if I had a disguise. If he saw me following him, that would be it."

At this he quirked an eyebrow. "Whoever said that we don't?" My eyes widened, and he rose from the couch and left the living room, heading for the foyer. Still wondering what in heaven's name I had gotten myself into, I hurriedly followed him up the stairs to the second floor. As I climbed each step, four words were running through my head that I never would have expected.

*God, this is fun.*

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A/N: My, how the writing muse has seized me! Hoo man, was this a fun chapter to write. But see how I did that? The first few chapters had no mystery at all, and now I've heaped it all on top of you at once. I tend to do that. Oh, and those of you who are wondering what the deal is with Rhodes' sister, wait no longer! ...Well, just a little longer. Because all will be revealed in the next chapter! And in the meantime, I hope you liked this one. It's one of my personal favorites so far. And I know March Hare liked that little line of Bridges' I put in there: "Just call me Watson." Anyway, leave your reviews, and following Hare's idea, I'll give a cookie to the first person who guesses what happened to Rhodes' sister. You don't count, Hare, you already know! But here's a cookie anyway for helping me. Heck, here's a whole truckload of cookies!

Wakizashi
tricksparrow@hotmail.com