A/N: Thanks for helping me kick off this story with all your reviews! Please keep them coming! Also, thank you to the late Carolyn Keene for the title of this chapter, as well as for creating one of my childhood heroes, the one and only Nancy Drew.

Chapter 2: The Clue of The Broken Locket

"What about the cook and the maid?" Alex asked. "Has anyone talked to them?"

"Yeah, Dooley and his partner talked to them," Bobby said. "They both stick to their stories—the maid that she was with Samantha Burke, and the cook that she was with Claire Wentworth."

"I bet they know what really went on," Carolyn said "But they don't want to lose their jobs…or be deported for that matter…Dooley said they were both illegal immigrants."

"Then again, they could be telling the truth, for all we know," Mike said. "We don't know who's hiding what and if what they're hiding is murder. I suspect they all have something to hide…it doesn't necessarily make all of them murderers…"

"No, but it makes at least one of them," Bobby said.

Deakins arrived just then, interrupting their musings. They explained the situation.

"Have the four party-goers arrested for obstruction and conspiracy to commit murder," Deakins said. "That'll at least let us hold them overnight."

"What about the cook and the maid?" Bobby asked.

"Don't arrest them…I'll take care of them and let them know they need to cooperate if they don't want us to get INS involved…you guys handle the arrests."

Deakins went to talk with the cook and the maid while the four detectives went back into the living room where the carefully guarded witnesses/suspects were still being held.

"We have a problem, folks," Mike said. "We have a murder. No murder weapon. Four people who were conveniently all in other places, and who all had motive to kill the deceased."

"That's absurd!" Claire Wentworth spat. She was dressed like Marilyn Monroe, in The Seven Year Itch. Her hair was naturally blonde.

"Not really," Bobby said.

"You're getting green paint flakes all over my white carpet," Samantha Burke, dressed as Cleopatra, told Goren nastily as she stood up.

"Celebrities," Mike muttered.

"All right, the rest of you need to get up too," Carolyn said. "You're coming with us, and you're all under arrest."

Bobby took the lead and grabbed Samantha Burke who was still giving him the evil eye. "Samantha Burke, you're under arrest…"

Carolyn took Marc LeBeau, who was dressed as a gypsy. "…for obstruction of justice…"

"And conspiracy to commit murder." Alex cuffed Brett McInerney, who wore a cowboy outfit.

"You have the right to an attorney," Mike told Claire Wentworth, as he led her outside, following the three others and their suspects out the grand doors of Burke House. "Should you be unable to afford one, which I doubt…"

XXX

"Ms. Burke," Bobby knew Samantha Burke hated him. It was the green paint flecks he'd gotten on the Persian rug. He felt so stupid still in his costume. How the hell was he supposed to have control over the interrogation when she was looking at him like he had a second head? "Ms. Burke, did you know your husband was having an affair?"

Samantha Burke narrowed her eyes. "Just one?"

"There were others then?" Bobby raised a brow.

"Of course there were others," she snapped. "That whore Claire Wentworth wasn't the first."

"Kind of odd…to invite her over for a party when she's…doing your husband."

"Welcome to the upper echelon of Manhattan society," Samantha said. "Warren and I get married because it looks good for the cameras, for my career and his. We pretend to be happily married. If I didn't invite Claire Wentworth to the party I would look suspicious…and so would our marriage."

"Did you…ever love him? Or was it just a business deal?"

"I was young and stupid…of course I loved him…I still…love him…and whoever did this should have to pay. But I told you, I have nothing to hide…I'm talking to you without my lawyer, aren't I?"

"Who…is there anyone you think could have killed your husband? Presuming…you're telling the truth…"

"They all had reason," Samantha said. "So did a hundred other people. All of them friends of ours. For all I know, there could have been someone hiding in the house…one of the party guests who had already left…waiting for a moment alone with Warren. They could have snuck out just as easily…"

"I'm going to need a list of all the guests," Bobby said.

XXX

"You design shoes, Mr. LeBeau?" Carolyn sat across from Marc LeBeau.

"Yes," LeBeau said. "Yours are killer by the way…ohhh…bad word choicing…"

"Thanks, they're from a costume shop," Carolyn frowned.

"This is the most colorful I've ever seen NYPD," LeBeau went on. "Especially that big guy…in the green…nice body…"

Carolyn tried not to laugh.

"Well, we police officers have lives too," Carolyn said, "But we're called out on the scene at the drop of a hat…regardless of…how we're dressed." She stood up. "Mr. LeBeau, what were you doing in the bathroom with Brett McInerney?"

"Oh is that what this is about?" LeBeau laughed. "Not what you think, I assure you…I mean, I am…well, ya know…but Brett McInerney is as straight as an arrow."

"So…what were you doing?"

"I wasn't supposed to say anything…"

"Trust me, it's better we find this out now rather than later."

"Brett McInerney is getting married…well…he's planning on asking his girlfriend. You know Stella Devoe, the model? He was asking me if I'd design her wedding dress and shoes, the whole kit and caboodle. I was under his strictest confidence."

"Don't worry. NYPD generally likes to stay away from the Post and the Ledger."

XXX

Alex was still wearing Mike's Sherlock Holmes jacket over the bunny costume, and she clutched it tightly across her chest as she went in to question Brett McInerney. She had ditched the bunny ears long ago but somehow, interrogating someone while wearing heels and fishnet stockings didn't seem right…

"Mr. McInerney," she said as she went over to the table where he was seated. "How were you acquainted with Warren Policy and his wife, Samantha Burke?"

"What do you mean, how am I ac—acquain—assssociated?" McInerney slurred.

No one had told her that he was drunk.

"How did you merit an invitation to this elite party?" Alex asked.

"What the hell are you talking about? I'm freaking Brett McInerney! I just got signed with the Yankees for next season! That's how I got invited."

"Alright then, Mr. McInerney. No need to raise your voice."

"Look, Nancy Drew, I don't have time for this."

Alex narrowed her eyes. "And I don't have time for your drunken 'Look-at-me-I'm-better-than-you' shit. I think you can go sit in the drunk tank until you sober up."

XXX

Claire Wentworth was lounging lazily in the hard-backed interrogation room chair, same as if she was sitting on a chaise or something. Mike walked in, hat and fake mustache gone, but still looking silly in the oversized plaid suit and floppy shoes. The magnifying glass (for no apparent reason) was peeking out above his breast pocket.

"Detective." Claire stood upon his entry.

"Ms. Wentworth," Mike said.

"Please, call me Claire."

"You can sit down, Claire," Mike said. "I need you to answer some questions."

She walked over to him and put her hand on his shoulder.

"Don't you think there's…some other way…we can take care of this mess?"

"First of all, that's called bribery, and second of all, you're not actually Marilyn Monroe."

She stood very close to him and while she was quite attractive, it made him very nervous. Perhaps it was because she was attractive that he was nervous.

"I didn't kill Warren..."

"But you know who did kill him."

"I'm not saying a word. And certainly not without my attorney present…but…"

"But what?"

She pulled something out of her purse, and then held out her hand. Mike only stood, not knowing what it was, or what she was doing, so she took his hand, and placed the object in it.

He opened his palm. It was a locket. A gold locket, with part of the chain broken off.

"What is this?" he asked.

"Like I said…not a word."

XXX

"Carver just called," Deakins informed the four detectives several hours later.

"And?" Alex asked.

"And they're all out on bail," he said. "All four of them…though, their passports were confiscated."

"So we have four potential murderers out on the loose," Carolyn said. "And still no clue…"

"Oh and we have this," Mike remembered the broken locket just then, pulling it out of his pocket.

"What's that?" Deakins asked.

"A locket…Claire Wentworth gave it to me…"

"What's the significance?" Bobby wanted to know.

"What do I look like, Sherlock Holmes or something?"

"Yes, actually…"

"She didn't tell me anything about it," Mike said. "She refuses to talk. She'd rather go to jail than reveal whatever secret she's hiding."

"Too many secrets," Alex said. "Not enough talking."

"Your job, then," Deakins said, "All four of you, your sole purpose for being right now…is to get them to talk…or get those who know them well to talk."