A/N: Aaw, I love you too, NadezhdaSt! Hahaha. :D Thanks for your wonderful review, yet again! Haha glad you love writing long ones! Orlando-crazy, Trickster's Queen Of War - thanks for the reviews! (Can't believe I'm up to 35 reviews! jumps up and down crazily haha) Ok well I'm starting to get a little confused, so Hardings suggestion of saying it all in a way everyone understands is for me as much as the characters haha. Anyway I'll do that next chapter! For now...I'm happy to flouder! Anyway, read on!

Chapter 13: Fools' Game

You really need to hang around Jordan more. Dr. Harding toyed with what the chief ME had said to her the day before. What had he meant? It didn't make sense. An expression of contempt tempered with amusement had crossed his face as their conversation had culminated, when she had told him there was nothing more that she could do.

Was he suggesting she do something more? Continue the investigation? The decedents body was not being released until Dr. Cavanaugh could make arrangements for the funeral, which she was probably already doing if she had any sense. So she had some time.

Time to do what? she asked herself. There really was nothing more she could do.

She glanced at her watch. It was about half past three in the afternoon – and she had finished her work for the day. Sighing she stood reluctantly and decided to stop procrastinating and just talk to the man.

"Dr Macy?" she said from his door. He looked up, and their conversation from the previous day came back to him, as well.

"Dr. Harding," he said, putting the book down that he was reading. "What can I do for you?"

"Yesterday you suggested that my work had not finished with the Cavanaugh case," she said. A bland look planted itself on the chief ME's face.

"I suggested nothing of the sort," he said in a tone that belied his words. She nodded, understanding his game. She was a master player of it herself.

"Okay," she conceded, choosing her words carefully. "That may be the case, but your words made me think. Which I suppose was the purpose of them. If Dr. Cavanaugh was not involved with her father's death, there has to be something connecting someone else. Seeing as Detective Mathers refuses to investigate other…avenues, I was thinking there might be something we can do."

"We?" was all Garret said.

"I was hoping you may be able to help me, being well acquainted with this city and its goings on behind the doors of the law enforcement agencies." Her lips twisted, realising how ridiculous she sounded. Macy raised an eyebrow, and nodded.

"Where should we start?"

------

"Good afternoon, Detective Hoyt," Mathers said drolly as the door clicked shut behind Woody.

"Detective Mathers," Woody said, inclining his head and sitting down.

"Just a couple of questions, regarding Dr. Cavanaugh."

"I gathered." Woody's voice was light, he was making an attempt at politeness even though he was still mildly riled at Jordan, and more than a little miffed at this trumped up detective.

"What sort of a relationship did Dr. Cavanaugh have with her father?"

What sort f a question is that? "A strong one," he said. "They'd do anything for each other."

"I see," Mathers said, eyeing the detective. "Did they fight?"

"Of course," he said. "I'd find it strange if they didn't."

"Did these fights ever get violent?"

"No."

"Never?"

"Not in my knowledge."

"And what is your knowledge, Detective?"

"I don't understand the question," he said slowly.

"How well did you know the two?"

"I've known them for about four years now," he said.

"Okay. And you spent time with them?"

"Obviously Dr. Cavanaugh more than her father, because we work together regularly. But I, as with her other colleagues, all frequent the bar that Max used to own."

"The Pogue."

"You've done your homework." He could not resist a dig. Mathers didn't bat an eyelid.

"Okay," he said, signalling a change in the direction of the interview. "Can you take me through the motions of the day of the murder? From when you got the call."

"I was at the morgue, actually."

"What were you doing there?"

"Picking up some paperwork from Dr. Cavanaugh on the Mitchell murder." That case seemed so long ago, so damn removed from this when in reality it was only a few days.

"Did you get the paperwork?"

"No. She was gone."

"Did you know where?"

"No. Lily…Miss Lebowski told me she was out on a call."

"Then what?"

"I was in Dr. Macy's office when my phone rang. I hung up and said there had been a murder at the old Boston wharves, and asked Dr. Macy if he'd like to come, to save him the trip, as he would have been called to it anyway. I said it was at the wharves and Lily said that was where Jor…Dr. Cavanaugh said she was going."

"So you knew she would be there."

"I didn't know what to think. I didn't know how she could have gotten the call before the police."

"Even though you were under the impression that Dr. Cavanaugh was there, Dr. Macy went with you?"

"Yes."

Something obviously dawned on Mathers. "You feared the worst."

"Like I said I didn't know what to think. We went there. End of story."

"Not quite," Mathers said, but let it go. "What happened when you arrived?"

"It was getting dark. We arrived at the wharves, and saw Jordan."

"Dr. Cavanaugh."

"Her too," Woody said irritably. Mathers frowned. "We saw the body and Dr. Macy ran over to see if he was alive. Uniforms were beginning to arrive."

"What was your initial thought, when you saw Dr. Cavanaugh standing over her father's body?"

"I didn't know what to think, what to do."

"At any time, did it cross your mind that she had killed her father?"

Woody paused, and the pause was agony for the ME listening outside. "No," he said with complete surety.

"Not at all?"

"Never. There is no way."

Mathers cleared his throat. "Do you think your judgement is clouded? Then and even now?"

Woody stared at him. "By what?"

"Your relationship with Dr. Cavanaugh." Woody frowned. Mathers sighed. "Can you define your relationship with her?"

"I…" For the first time in the interview he was uncertain. "What exactly do you mean, detective?" He was stalling. Jordan looked on from behind the window, wondering what he would say. Wondering what she would say.

"Just answer the question."

"We have been friends for four years," he said. "We're close. But this only strengthens my judgement. I know her, and I know she is not capable of murder."

"You're a cop, Hoyt. You've listened to the family and friends of murderers swear on their lives that their loved ones could not possibly have committed murder. You have seen what these people can be capable of."

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"At any time, any time at all, did you doubt her?"

"No," he said.

Renee stood slightly behind Jordan, watching all three of them. Mathers was obviously doing his best to get a reaction out of the young detective, who was obviously doing his best to keep his cool. He was doing a fine job of it, too. Jordan was standing, leaning forward, and listening intently. She had squirmed a little when Mathers had asked about their relationship, but aside from that had been still. Renee did not know what to think. Turning, she decided a trip to the morgue was probably a little overdue.

"What was Dr. Cavanaugh's frame of mind when you arrived on the scene?"

Woody thought back. "Shocked," he said. "I've never seen her so blank, confused. She hardly recognised us. Did not say a word, not until Dr. Macy tried to talk to her. She snapped, and ran off to her car."

"What did you do?"

"We waited until the investigation was set in order and followed her."

"Followed her? How did you know where she would go?"

"We didn't know for sure," he said. "We figured she'd go to her apartment."

"And did she?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Lets fast forward a little bit. You and Dr. Macy ended up in New York. How did you know where she was?"

Woody shifted. How could he say she asked for the file? Even if he didn't care about the mess it would get him into, how could he go against what Jordan had said?

"This doesn't relate to the murder," Woody said. "You're right, I am a cop. I know how far an interview is supposed to go."

"Fine," Mathers said, standing up abruptly. Jordan and Woody both breathed a sigh of relief. "Keep in mind that I am a cop, too. I can be the difference between life or 20 years for your…friend."

His voice sent a chill down Jordan's spine and she was glad when he left the room. Woody stood and met her outside. His face was hard, and he didn't look at her as they left the precinct and drove home. Jordan stared out of the window of the car, not seeing anything. The fire had been lit; she would not sit idly by while Mathers worked to throw her in the slammer. She realised that there was too much doubt to send her to prison for life, but with a bit of work on Mathers' and the DA's part, she could get twenty years. But that wasn't even the issue, not to her. She didn't care whether she got twenty years or five. It was the injustice of it. Koreldy killed her father; there was no doubt in her mind of that. He had confessed, after all. She'd be damned if she copped the rap for something she didn't do.

------

Harding sat at her desk, tapping away at her computer. The file on Jack Koreldy had been closed to all but authorised police personnel – and they didn't exactly have a multitude of them floating around the morgue. So she was trying to hack into the database, against her better judgement, and failing miserably. She'd always considered herself pretty handy with a computer, but then again she had never tried to commit a crime with one, so could afford to cut herself a little slack.

"Need a hand love?"

She looked up and a tall man she recognised as a Dr. Townsend grinned down at her from the door.

"Macy's orders," he shrugged. She smiled weakly back and conceded defeat, thinking that he wouldn't be able to accomplish any more than she had, but willing to give the man a shot.

"Hope you have better luck than I do," she said, standing. He wriggled around her sat in her chair, surveying the situation.

"No, no, no," he muttered. "You're going about it in the wrong way."

"I see," Harding said, mildly amused, and watched as the man tapped away frantically. With a last triumphant hit on what she thought was the 'enter' button, he sat back in the chair and looked up at her.

"There you go," he said, standing. She frowned and rushed to the screen, seeing that he had indeed unlocked the case file.

"How did you…"

"All in a day's work," he said cryptically. "I'll give you some tips if you're sticking around."

His cheek was infectious and Harding couldn't help but grin back at him. "Thanks," she said gratefully.

"No problem, love. Though next time, why don't you just ask a cop?"

He shook his head, amused, and left the room, Harding staring in wonder after him. She sat back down at her desk and studied the file. In mid-September 1979, Detective Max Cavanaugh was working on cracking through a drug ring, the prime suspect being Jack Koreldy, and the couple Thomas and Rebecca McKinley. All had been testified against, though not by Cavanaugh.

She was spared further procrastination when Dr. Macy rapped lightly on her door and walked in.

"Do you have the file?"

She smiled. "Thanks to your lackey," she said, jesting.

Garret chuckled. "Don't let him hear you say that."

She grinned again. "It doesn't add up, though," she said.

"Why not?"

She looked back to the screen. "Max Cavanaugh was investigating this suspected drug ring. Had been for months, since the April of '79. But, when they were eventually arrested it was not by Cavanaugh, but by another detective. Likewise, when the time came to testify against them in court, later that month, it was not Cavanaugh who did the testifying, as you would expect. And it wasn't even as if he didn't care about the case, there was a report filed here that…"

"His wife was murdered around that time," he said. "He wouldn't have been there, wouldn't have continued."

Harding held his gaze. "I see," she says. "That explains a lot."

"Mm."

"Apparently Koreldy was under suspicion of a few murders relating to the ring," she said. He nodded.

"Let me guess. Max was trying to pin him?"

"Yeah. Trying real hard, according to this."

"Well there's motive," he said. But she shook her head.

"Why, after all this time? He got out of jail in 1996. Why wait?"

Garret shrugged. "Needed to look for Max."

"But it all happened here, in Boston. From what's here, and what we know, he didn't move around much. He only left the force a few years ago. He would not be that hard to trace, especially for someone who semi-knew him. And its not even as though there were no relatives to track him through."

Macy was silent, and Harding watched the thoughts flit across his face.

She ventured a thought. "Is it possible that Dr. Cavanaugh knows more than we do?"

"I'd say so," he said. "Certainly possible."

"Maybe we should talk to her…"

"No," he said quickly.

"Why?"

"I'll talk to her. Later. After work."

Harding didn't press it any further, but could not help wondering if there were more between the two than an employer/employee relationship. She shook her head; it wasn't really of any consequence, not yet, anyway.

"Should I talk to Mathers?"

"I don't know," he said, still deep in thought. "From the few cases I've worked with him, he's not exactly the biggest gossiper about a case."

"Maybe if I say we have something knew on the case?"

"Lie?" Garret said, eyes meeting hers.

"No," she said. "Mislead."

"He'll figure it out."

She sighed. "What, then? We're not exactly doing much just sitting here."

"We need to fine out if Koreldy was in Boston."

"That's stating the obvious, don't you think?"

Garret merely sent her a blank stare. "What can possibly put Koreldy at that scene? There's nothing there, or on the body."

Harding stood up and looked out the window. "This whole thing is a mess of jumbled facts and figures," she said. "We need to have it out there, in something we can all get our heads around."

"Sounds like a plan," a voice from the door said. Both their heads snapped around, to the amusement of their guest, Renee Walcott.

"Miss Walcott," Garret said in a strange voice – at least to Dr. Harding's ears – and stood.

"Dr. Macy," she said in greeting. "I think it's about time you and I had a chat, don't you think?"

"I do," he said quickly, and glanced at Harding. "We'll continue this discussion later."

"What do you want me to do now?"

He surveyed her. "Go home," he said, and followed the district attorney out. She sighed in exasperation and made ready to leave. The whole lot of them were mad!

-------

"What brings you here, Renee?" Garret said once they were seated in his office.

"Oh you know. Long time no…smell."

"Yes, the smell of decay can be quite alluring at times," he said. "We do try to contain it in the autopsy suites, though."

"I'm sure you do," she said, wrinkling her nose, not being able to smell anything but imagining the scent if she could. The thought came to her yet again, how do these people do this every day? "I need to know what you know," she said.

"Why?" he merely asked.

"Because I don't believe that it is a cut and dry as Mathers is making it out to be."

"I hardly see how accusing a respected medical examiner is 'cut and dry', Renee."

"Respected?" she said. "Is that what they call it these days?" There was the hint of a smile on her face, but Garret ignored the obvious jest of the comment and focussed on the bluntness of it.

"Its what I call it."

"Right," she said. "Look, I just want to…"

"Rub our faces in it? Tell her that you 'told her so'? Tell me that you told us all so?"

"That one day your escapades would land you in the frying pan? Sure. I told you so."

"Thank you for your input," he said wryly. "What are you really doing here?"

"The truth?"

"It would be appreciated."

"I'm checking up on you."

"Ah, of course."

"So how're you doing, Garret?" The use of his first name suggested informal, light, chatty, but the glint in her eyes told a whole different story.

"I'm more prepared to believe your first story," he said.

"Okay," she said. "You choose."

He looked away. "Stop playing games."

"Getting to old for them?"

"That's one way of putting it," he said, meeting her eyes again. "Look, I don't know any more than you do. Koreldy is the number one suspect in my mind."

"Great, case closed," she said dryly. "I want to believe you, but history suggests I don't."

"History?" he exploded. "When has she committed murder?"

"She's certainly been a suspect before," she said. "And there's no denying she sometimes loses sight of the rails."

"Yours or hers?" he murmured. She ignored it.

"You can't tell me you believe her beyond a doubt."

"I believe I just did."

"No doubt in your mind."

"Nope," he said in a tight voice.

"Well you're as much of a fool as Hoyt is," she said. "There always has to be some doubt, always."

"Not this time," he said. "I can't believe you think she is capable of murder." He stopped, rethinking it. "No, wait. I can, of course I can. You're always so quick to jump to a negative conclusion about her."

"And you're always so quick to defend her!" she said loudly, angered.

"Have I ever been wrong?"

She looked away. "This is not getting us anywhere," she said. He wholeheartedly agreed. She sighed. "Mathers is ready to close up the investigation and hand it over to the courts," she said. "If you're so sure it was someone else…"

"Koreldy," he interjected.

"…then you better do something. Fast."

"Suddenly you're on our side."

"I am on no one's side," she countered. "I merely want…"

"What, justice?" he said loudly, staring at her. She read the anger in his eyes.

"Yeah," she said icily. "That would work."