A/N: Yay plot! I told you it was here somewhere :)
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Alex would have dearly loved to slam the conference room door behind her, but the two men standing there waiting for her had already given the squad more than enough to gossip about. She settled for closing it so slowly that it made an ominous click when the latch engaged.
Turning away from the door, she examined their faces and, to her surprise, found no traces of animosity. Both men appeared more apprehensive than anything else. "One of you want to tell me what the hell that was?" she snapped.
The men looked at each other. "It wasn't what it looked like," Goren began. "It was . . . an act."
"An act?" she repeated, staring at him like he had two heads. "You expect me to believe that?" She turned to look at Logan, expecting to find scorn, or at least disbelief, on his face.
Instead, Logan was looking at Goren and nodding. "He's telling the truth. It was an act."
She looked between them, waiting for someone to break and tell her what really happened. When they just continued to stand there placidly, as if everything were perfectly normal and they hadn't just had a screaming argument practically in the middle of the squad room, she crossed her arms and tried to stare them down. "If that's the truth, then I'd like a little more explanation, please."
"Uh . . ." Bobby cleared his throat. "Deakins ordered me to find out, uh . . ." He swallowed. "Whether he . . . Logan . . . um . . ."
Logan rolled his eyes. "What he's trying to say in between 'uh's is that Deakins sent him to find out if I'm the one that's been messing with you."
Alex uncrossed her arms and just gaped at him. "He what?" She whirled to look at Goren. "And you did it?"
"No! That's our point," he said, backing up a step. Alex's wrath could be a dangerous thing, and he'd prefer to let her unleash on Logan rather than himself if it had to be let out. "I brought him in here and told him about it instead."
"And this whole shouting match was . . . what? You boys just wanted to get out of paperwork for a few more minutes?"
Bobby glanced at Logan, then looked back to Alex. "Well, I had to do something to convince Deakins that I handled it, to get him off all our backs."
"Oh no," Alex said with a shake of her head. "Don't you dare include me in this! What are you guys going to say to the twenty-five other people who just witnessed your little drama? 'Oops, just kidding, please don't tell anyone else that Goren and Logan were having a screaming match over Alex Eames'?"
"Neither of us mentioned your name," Logan protested.
"You think they couldn't figure it out? It's a room full of goddamn detectives, Mike!"
"We could . . ." Goren stopped, and turned to Logan questioningly. "We could, uh, mention to a few people that this was about something else. Like, uh . . ."
"Me horning in on one of your cases?" Logan suggested.
"That'll work." They both looked back at Alex, waiting for approval.
She let out a choked, disbelieving laugh. "As simple as that? And are you two actually agreeing on something?"
"Yes."
"Uh, yeah."
She couldn't decide whether she was amused at their sudden agreement, resentful of being dragged into it, embarrassed about everything happening in front of an audience, or pleased that the two men seemed to be learning to tolerate each other.
As a result, for the moment, Alex had been rendered completely speechless. So she just stood there, waiting for someone to say something she could respond to.
After a few seconds, Logan took a deep breath and headed for the door, saying, "Well, I've got work to do. It's been fun, guys. Let's not do it again."
When Logan was gone, Bobby took a moment to slowly approach Alex, keeping his eyes on her face for signs of impending explosion. "Are you ok?"
She sighed. "For now. I might kill you later, though."
"That's . . . what I figured. But for now," he went on, checking his watch, "you and I need to go find Claire Young and see what she can tell us."
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They had little trouble finding Claire Young's building, a well-maintained high-rise in the East Village complete with a doorman who insisted on calling up before letting them in. "Close to NYU," Bobby pointed out as they waited.
"And way too expensive for a student to pay for without help from mommy and daddy," Alex added. "Bet you her apartment bears absolutely no resemblance to a dorm room."
He gave her a confused look. "Well, she doesn't live in a dorm. Why should it look like a dorm room?"
"Are you kidding? My apartments were decorated exactly the same as my college dorm room right up until I got married!"
He just smirked as he held the building door for her.
"Apartment 18-B," Alex read off of the print-out she was carrying before looking up. "Are there mailboxes?"
"Yeah. 18-B says . . ." He bent down to look. "Says 'Young' on the top line and 'Meadows' on the bottom line."
"Young and Meadows?" Alex repeated as she pushed the button for the elevator. "I'm not even going to make a 'spring' joke about that combination. Do we know his first name?"
"No."
"You want to split them up?" she asked as they boarded the elevator.
"Assuming they're both there, let's take them together unless we find that we need to split them. It'll be easier for her to talk with someone she, uh, cares about with her."
She gave him a dubious look. "You're going soft on me, Goren."
He just looked away and mumbled a "hmph."
They stepped off the elevator and found themselves in a short hallway with a door at each end. "That one's 18-A," Alex said, checking the brass panel on the door to their left, "so that one must be 18-B. A two-apartment floor? What are these, mini-penthouses?"
"Guess so," he said, raising his hand to knock on the door.
It was pulled open before his knuckles hit the wood, revealing a good-looking young man with dark hair and piercing blue eyes. Bobby judged him to be a few years older than Claire, and noted that his chinos and oxford shirt were both expensive brands. "You the detectives?" he asked, partially blocking the doorway with his body.
They showed their badges and introduced themselves and were allowed to enter, but before letting them to go farther than the a few steps into the entryway, he stopped and blocked their path again. "Tony Meadows," he said, not offering to shake hands. "I know you guys have to talk to her, but I'm warning you now, you upset her and you're out of here."
The detectives exchanged curious looks, but acquiesced to Tony's demand.
As they approached the girl curled up on the couch, who was clutching a mug of what looked like tea, Alex glanced over her shoulder and noticed that the boyfriend hadn't taken his eyes away from them. "Claire, right?" she said, squatting in front of the girl. "I'm Alex. You've met my partner," she added, gesturing to Goren, who stood behind her, "haven't you?"
Claire nodded, still staring into her tea. Tony brushed by Goren and bent over her shoulder, tucking an afghan more tightly around her. She gave him a wan smile and he rested his hand in the hollow between her neck and shoulder, thumb at the back of her neck and the rest of his fingers in front against her collarbone. She lifted one of her hands to touch his and the two seemed to hold a silent conversation before Claire looked up at Alex and said, "Yes, I remember. You . . . need to ask me questions."
"Yes," Goren said, crouching down next to his partner. "We'll try not to take too much of your time; I know you're feeling overwhelmed right now."
Alex did her best to hide her surprise at his words; he was continuing to treat Claire Young more gently than she could remember him treating almost any other witness they'd interviewed. All the same, he was the one who'd dealt with the girl last night, so his opinions on the matter took precedence over her own unless she found a reason to contradict them. For now, she stayed quiet and continued to listen.
"I . . . I'm fine. I understand how this works." She paused and lowered her eyes back to her tea. "In theory, at least."
"Good, thank you." Goren drummed his fingers on his portfolio for a second before continuing, "Did you have a good relationship with your mother, Claire?"
She took a faltering breath and nodded. "My mom . . . she was my best friend. We talked every day. I don't understand . . ." She broke off on a sniffle.
Tony squeezed her shoulder and murmured, "You're doing fine, sweetheart. Just tell them what you know."
Alex shifted her scrutiny to the attentive boyfriend while Bobby continued to question the girl.
"And your relationship with your father? Are you close to him also?"
Claire nodded. "Not as close as with mom, but . . . we get along."
"Her father didn't want her to move in with me," Tony said. "There was . . . tension."
"No, Tony, that's not true. My parents like you!"
Tony sat down on the arm of the couch and kissed her cheek. "They put up with me because they have to take me to have you."
Have to take me to have you? Alex thought to herself. That seemed a little forward for any boyfriend to say, but Claire didn't seem to mind. If anything, she seemed pleased to hear it.
"When was the last time either of you saw Mrs. Young?" she asked when Goren paused.
"Every Friday night I drop Claire off at her parents' apartment at five and pick her up at eight thirty," Tony answered. "That's what we did last night, too."
Claire glanced over her shoulder at him, then looked back at Alex. "Yes, I was with her last night until Tony picked me up around eight forty. We were having our . . . girls night," she finished on a choked sob.
"What was she wearing when you left?" Alex asked, remembering the peignoir she'd seen on the body.
"Uh . . ." As if out of habit, Claire looked to Tony, who shrugged. "She was wearing a, uh, nightgown. Silk."
"Was she wearing any jewelry? Rings, earrings, watch?"
"Yeah, she was wearing her watch."
Which she had not been wearing when the detectives got to her, Alex remembered. "What kind of watch is it?"
"Bulova. It's, uh, a stainless steel band with a black dial that has four diamonds set in it."
"Sounds nice," Alex said admiringly, raising her eyebrows.
"She loved it, she wore it everywhere. It was a birthday present from my . . . daddy . . ." Claire said, her voice breaking on the last few words.
"Claire," Goren began, drawing her attention back to him when he sensed Alex had exhausted her current line of questioning, "do you know of any enemies your mother might had? People who might want her harmed?"
"I . . . I can't think of anyone who would be horrible enough to kill a person. I mean, I can tell you about the people she didn't get along with, but . . . to hurt her?"
"We understand that, but we need to eliminate everyone who might have done it before we can narrow our search to who actually did it," Alex said gently.
"Isaac Lawson," Claire said slowly. "He works . . . worked . . . with my mom, and she beat him out for a promotion. Allan Gray, uh, he's one of her big competitors for clients. Christie Miller is one of the . . ." She paused and looked from Alex to Bobby before lowering her eyes and finishing, "She's one of the ADAs; Mom called her her nemesis, but . . . but really, I think she was only joking . . ."
"Any number of Mrs. Young's clients could have had a grudge against her for losing their case," Tony spoke up, running a hand over Claire's hair, when her voice seemed to run out of steam.
"Have you seen any of these people recently?" Alex asked, flipping open her notebook.
"No," Tony answered for both of them. "We would have no reason to run into any of those people, especially the criminals."
"Well," Bobby told him with an sympathetic shake of his head, "we can certainly understand why you'd keep yourself and Claire away from people like that." He glanced at Alex and found that she had already taken her cue and was nodding enthusiastically, affecting a look of disgust at the thought of people like that.
"So, what did you guys do last night after girls' night ended?" she asked conversationally after what she judged to be an appropriate amount of supportive nodding.
"We came back here?" Claire said, sounding like she was asking instead of telling. "And watched some TV and went to bed."
"You both came home together and stayed here together?" Goren asked as a confirmation.
There might have been a pause before Claire answered, but if there was, it was so short as to be almost imperceptible. Either way, she nodded and said, "We either walk or take the subway everywhere, and I don't like to go out after it's dark."
Neither detective commented on the fact that she had a handy, overprotective boyfriend sitting right next to her who would presumably be more than happy to accompany her onto the big, bad streets of New York. Instead, they just exchanged a look and then moved their eyes back to Claire.
"Did your parents get along?" Alex asked after a second.
The girl nodded vigorously. "They really lov- loved each other. I almost never . . . saw them fight." Her verbs were produced haltingly, and it was clear that she was making a conscious effort to speak in the past tense.
Bobby nodded and added, "What about girlfriends? Did she have a close circle of friends?"
"Addie Gilmore," Tony replied without hesitation, "Jacqueline Cabrera, Katherine Butler, Sophie Drake - what?" he broke off, noticing the look on his girlfriend's face.
Claire continued to stare at him for another second, then just shook her head. "He's pretty much got them covered. I don't know how to get in touch with anyone except Sophie, though. My dad can probably help you with that."
Alex felt her partner relax slightly by her side and knew he'd run out of questions for the moment. "That's all we need from you for now, ok, Claire? Here's our card," she said, holding out the item in question. "Please call us with Ms. Drake's contact information, or if you think of anything that might be useful."
Claire drank the last of her tea and nodded slowly. "Ok."
"We'll, uh, show ourselves out," Bobby said, pointing over his shoulder to the door. "Thanks for speaking with us."
Just before Alex closed the door of the apartment behind them, they heard Claire say, sounding annoyed, "To-ny!"
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"You notice anything odd about that?" Goren asked as they stepped out of the elevator on the ground floor of Claire's building.
"You mean other than the fact that he kept at least one hand on her at all times and she didn't seem to mind?"
He gave her a sideways glance and grinned. "You're good."
"I know."