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AN: Hi and kudos to those who reviewed. Sorry it's taken so long to update, but I've had four stories floating around (one Spirited Away, one Zelda, one Yugioh and this one), and I've only just been able to get back on this one. Had to watch six episodes of the series before I was inspired again.

Do you have any idea how difficult it is to think up an original crime worthy of Bobby? It's bloody damn near impossible. I take my hat off to Dick Wolf. I know he's most probably got writers who do the dirty work for him, but still.

I think I'd better explain. This story is in two parts, this part is the first one, the idea I came up with originally. I had only intended to do three chapters in this story. Now think I'll do four. Anyway, the second part will be the conclusion of the crime, if enough you wonderful people want me to continue. I have the basic crime all in my head, but I want to finish this story first. Please note that this all does happen within approx. 36 hours total (including the Auction which was held the night before).

As normal, I do not own Bobby sob, sob or any of the other characters.

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The Day

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Alex looked over at Bobby who was hunched over his desk, staring intently at the crime photos taken at the scene.

"You know, there's something not quite right here. I just don't know what it is."

"Bobby, the police, the coroner, hell, even the CSI said it was suicide."

"There's still something wrong."

Bobby tilted his head as he stared at the photos. Alex tapped her foot, "Bobby...BOBBY!" He looked up startled, as she leaned close, "This is the day of the 24 hours that I own you. I want to do more than look at crime scene photos."

His eyes darkened, "What sort of things?" he asked hoarsely.

She gave a lazy grin, "I don't know," she leaned down even further so her lips were near his ear. He gulped, then jerked his ear away as she yelled, "Something other than look at a closed case!"

He glared at her, rubbing his ear, "Could you get me a glass of water, please?"

Alex sighed and walked away, *You pay over seven hundred dollars for a man and all HE wants to do is stare at crime photos! Grrrr that man...Arrgh!*

She came back with the glass of water and held it out to Bobby, who was still engrossed with the photos.

Suddenly he reared back and roared, "WATER!!"

"It's right here! All over my shoes!" she cried, startled at his exclamation, jerking the glass and spilling water over the floor.

He looked up apologetically, "No, I meant, where was the water? You know, in the photos? At the crime scene?"

"You've lost me."

"Listen, taking that much Temazepam..." he smiled at her puzzled expression, "That's a strong sleeping pill," he explained.

"Oh," she said.

"Anyway, talking that much sleeping pills needed to commit suicide, you need a hefty glass of water."

"So?"

"Where is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"A woman does not take over 20 sleeping pills, then walk into a bedroom and lie down."

"I'm still lost."

"Those tablets work after only a few minutes. Her kitchen was tidy, all the dishes put away. No glasses of water anywhere."

"Maybe she washed and put away the glass?"

"No, it would have taken at least three to four minutes to do that, excluding the minute and a half it would take her to walk to her bedroom and lay down. If she did that, we would have found her on the floor, in the kitchen or hall. She did not mean to take all those pills..." he stopped as the phone rang. He listened intently to the other person on the phone then hung up.

"That was the coroner's office," he said, "They've just finished the official autopsy. The coroner said we should come down."

"Why? They normally don't contact us."

"Don't ask me, they just said to come down," he said as he grabbed his folder and they moved over to the lift.

Fifteen minutes later Alex was even more puzzled, not at what the coroner said, but at Bobby's reaction. He was grinning.

"Ah HA! I knew it! See?" he said turning on his heel towards Alex, "I told you so!"

"Told me what?" Alex said confused.

"She didn't commit suicide."

"Then...why the sleeping pills?"

"They weren't digested. Hell, some hadn't even gone fully down the gullet yet."

"So...she died in another way?"

"Yup."

"How?"

Bobby lifted his hand up, and opened his mouth, then closed it without making a sound, "That I do not know," he turned to the coroner, "How did she die?"

The coroner gave a long suffering look at Bobby, "She had over 20 units of Trichloroethylene in her bloodstream."

Both Bobby and Alex looked puzzled, "What is it?" they both asked.

"It's a man-made chemical, found mostly in underground water sewers of industrial companies. Inhaling it can cause dizziness, headaches, and unconsciousness. A very great dose, like the one in this woman's body causes unconsciousness and eventually death."

"How does one inhale this stuff?"

"Infected air mostly, but this woman doesn't seem the type to work in a chemical factory."

"Then how did she get infected?" Alex asked, beating Bobby to the punch.

"She was injected. See, here?"

"Those look like track marks," Alex said.

"Yes, most probably she did do drugs, the social party sort, you know?" getting blank stares from the detectives, he went on, "However, this one here, right above this one, is larger than the others."

"Larger?" Bobby asked, "How much larger?" scribbling some more in his folder.

"Well, most druggies use size 3 or 4, this one is a size 10*."

"Wow, that's huge, that's like a doctor's syringe," Alex remarked.

"Alright, is that all?" Bobby asked.

"You must excuse my partner, he isn't as patient as I."

"Yes, that's pretty much everything. Oh, one more thing though. I found traces of alcohol. Not over the limit, probably only a glass of wine or two at dinner. Don't know if it helps."

As Bobby and Alex were in the elevator going up, he remarked, "She is a..." here he rustled in his folder until he found his place, "She is a socialite, no sign of forced entry in her home, so she, probably went out with whomever killed her, and took him home."

"Come up into my house for a cocktail just got a new meaning," Alex quipped.

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*AN: I'm not a druggie, don't do drugs, never have, never will. Only got this info from the Internet. Wonderful thing. Had to do a whole lot of research, both for the bloody Trichloroethylene, and other stuff.

Anyway, review! Please! Just click on that little purple button down there and tell me how I'm doing. Constructive criticism is welcome. Flames will be ignored (if they are really bad, I'll send my muse over. Trust me. You do not want to meet a fairy with a miniature morning star.)