Isis was on the phone with a client (nothing new there, thought Elliot) when the two detectives walked in. "Ever heard of knocking?" she said sarcastically.

Elliot tapped lightly on the wall. "Happy now?"

"I don't mean to be rude or anything, but what the hell do you want? I already answered your questions."

"We have a few more for you," said Olivia.

"Such as?" Isis narrowed her cold eyes.

"Such as why your fingerprints were all over your own death threat letter," said Elliot. "And why it was printed on paper with your firm's watermark on it."

"If it had the Walter Brown watermark on it, then I probably touched it at one time or another. I'm sure it doesn't take a detective to figure that out," she said condescendingly.

Elliot opened his mouth to reply when someone knocked on the partially closed door. A young, darkhaired intern who bore a slight resemblance to Isis walked in, arms full of paperwork. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" she asked timidly.

"No," said Isis. "They were just leaving." The intern set the papers down and left. "So, like I said, you were just leaving."

Elliot clenched his jaw slightly, anger coursing through his veins. "Actually," he said, struggling to keep his voice even. "We have a few more questions." Bitch, he thought.

"Where were you yesturday morning between 5:30 and 7:00 a.m.?" Olivia asked.

"Here." She gave a list of people who could account for her whereabouts.

Elliot took a deep breath. He wasn't sure why he had been so angry. Keep it together. She's a potential victim- not a suspect.

"Are you just going to stand there doing breathing exercises, or do you have more questions?" Isis sneered.

Elliot clenched and unclenched his fists. "That's funny. What's really funny is the fact that you're the highest paid broker in your firm with the largest office. Your boss is a man, right?"

"Yes. I don't see why-"

"You're an attractive woman. I'm sure your boss would agree- if you catch my drift."

"What are you suggesting, detective?"

Elliot shrugged. "Investments by day, and by night... well, you have to do something with this office."

"I'm not that kind of broker."

"Of course not." The sarcasm was dripping.

"Does the name Rupert Clempson mean anything to you?" inquired Olivia.

"Should it?"

"You tell us!" snapped Elliot.

"No." Isis met his gaze unblinkingly. "It doesn't."

"We'll be in touch."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

"What was that all about?" demanded Olivia once the two of them were outside.

"I lost my temper, okay? I'm sorry. I treated her like a suspect instead of a potential victim."

"Isn't she a suspect, though?"

Elliot shook his head. "I don't think she did it. For one thing, she wouldn't have written a fake death threat note on traceable paper, and she wouldn't leave fingerprints. I think she knows who did it, though."

"Let's go talk to Clempson."

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"I'm sorry, but Mr. Clempson's out of town," his personal secretary, a woman named Ginger Malkowitz, said. "I think he's in Chicago."

"You think, or you know?" said Elliot.

"I think. He never tells me where he goes; I think he's afraid someone will follow him or something."

"We're investigating a homicide," Olivia explained, then set down her business card. "Call us when he gets back into town."

"He skipped town after the death of the man who stole his company," said Olivia as they drove home.

Elliot smirked. "How convienient."