Finishing off "Russkie Business." Another major plot alteration's a-coming.

Disclaimer: All belongs to Rob Thomas. Nothing belongs to me.

X X X X X

I did have to call Logan to tell him one thing; I got "This is Logan with today's inspirational greeting: The two most common elements in the universe are hydrogen and stupidity. Harlan Ellison. Leave a message."

"Checked the tapes," I said. "They show exactly what we thought they'd show. Just . . . thought you'd want to know. Bye."

When Wallace came by our apartment later that evening, he was in a surly mood. All he got was "a reputation as a jock-sniffer. You can be your own FF. I'm retired." When I pressed him for details all he would say was that Caz had "caught him."

Mental note: Blackmail Caz. Wallace is new to the basketball team. He doesn't need the hassle.

Then we actually got a chance to hang out for a while, because I couldn't do anything for Meg right then and I didn't have any other outstanding cases I could work on. We spent a fun couple of hours onTV, homework, and general conversation (he'd heard about Logan's and my "date" and wanted to know exactly what happened. I gave him the truncated version.)

He did say, "Dude is making an effort, though. I'd never heard word one from him and he's going out of his way to be friendly to me. And much as I'd like to think so I don't think it's my sparkling personality that won him over."

"Don't sell yourself short," I said. "You can sparkle with the best of them."

The rest of the time actually leading up to the dance was spent in a futile search for Meg's secret admirer. The florist was a no-go, Caz's party was a total bust, though I did corner Caz briefly and told him that if he told anyone about Wallace's snooping then someone would find out that he was throwing these parties in homes he didn't own. I couldn't come up with anything else.

The night of the dance, Meg showed up at my door dressed like Molly Ringwald. I'd decided to go as early Madonna. She had a wrist corsage her secret admirer had sent her, but she said she wasn't going to wear it. I got her to at least carry it with her.

Good thing, too. She got weak when we got to the dance and noticed that it was mostly couples. I persuaded her to put the corsage back on, telling her that while I hadn't had any luck actually figuring out who it was, I was somehow sure it wasn't the play-the-field Caz or the nerdy but nice Martin.

And that's when Duncan showed up and asked her to dance.

I could have kicked myself.

Not because my ex was into Meg. There was lingering weirdness, no question, but what annoyed me most was that I hadn't figured it out from Duncan's attitude at the Kane household. (This may be have been why I was so sure it hadn't been Caz or Martin.)

Duncan had been so damn sanguine about me and Logan hooking up. I doubt he would have been if he hadn't been focused on Meg.

I looked around and saw nothing but couples dancing. To hell with it. I've done my part, I've shown up, and --

A tap on my shoulder.

I turned around. It was Logan, dressed, of all things, like Indiana Jones. It was a well-done costume, too, with hat and stubble and everything. The only thing missing was the gun; Neptune High tended to frown on those. Still . . .

"Nice whip," I said.

"It was a choice between this and Tom Cruise from Risky Business. I weighed my odds at whether I'd impress you dancing around in my underwear and figured this was the better bet." He smiled. "Though I do have a killer set of legs." He gently took my hand. "Forgiven?"

"How can I stay mad at a man who saved us from several evil Nazi plots?" Then I looked at him seriously. "But don't ever do something like that again."

"I can't promise not to make mistakes, Veronica," he said.

"I don't expect you to. Just don't back me into a corner. Nobody puts Veronica in a corner."

"Damn," he said. "I knew I should have come as Patrick Swayze." Then he said, seriously, "Campaign back on?"

"Campaign back on," I said. "I assume Meg got you here?"

"She was a factor," he admitted. "She also helped convince me not to love that Old Time Rock and Roll." Then, "Dance?"

"Why not."

We danced through the end of Time After Time and through another song I didn't recognize. At the end of the second song, my phone started ringing.

I gently pulled free of Logan's grasp, went to the edge of the room, and answered it. "Hello?" I said.

No one. Once again, no one. I shut the phone irritably.

Logan made his way over to me. "What's up?" he asked.

"I keep getting these crank calls," I said. "Someone calls me and hangs up."

"There's this wonderful invention called Star 69.". I gave him my best "don't-be-stupid" look, and he said, "You've tried it."

"Almost every time. It just rings and rings."

"Are you going to try again?"

I put my phone away. "No. It's not worth the effort. They'll either talk, or they'll give up."

Gesturing to the dance floor, Logan said, "Back to dancing?"

I looked around the room. Meg, dancing with Duncan, spared some time for a "thumbs-up" gesture. Madison Sinclair gave me a disgusted look. "Naah," I said. "I think two's about my limit for the night. Not that they weren't fun." And they had been.

"It's working . . ." Logan said in almost a sing-song voice.

Was it working?

An honest evaluation would be a qualified yes. Despite his assholery of a couple of days back. Logan had grown on me, definitely, as a human being, by simply proving he could be one.

But was there an attraction there?

That was the big question, wasn't it?

"You don't have to go just because I am," I said. "Go out there and . . . whip it good, Dr. Jones."

"You do know what that song means, right?"

"Logan Echolls, you have a dirty mind."

"You're only finding this out now? Maybe you're not such a great detective after all, Machiavelli."

I laughed. Logan walked with me out to the parking lot, where I gave him a quick hug, and I went home.

X X X X X

Meg waved when I saw her at school the next morning. It was strange seeing her on Duncan's arm, but she seemed happy and he seemed happy, and that was the important thing.

She came over and talked to me. "So . . .?" she asked.

"So, what?" I asked.

"Well, you and Logan both left the dance at the same time, and neither one of you came back . . ."

"Sorry not to be able to titillate you this morning, Meg, but he went his way and I went mine. I encouraged him to head back to the dance. I guess he didn't."

"But, still . . ."

"Things are better between us. Does that make you happy?"

Grinning widely, she said, "Ecstatic, Veronica Mars. I'm going to make sure you're happy if it kills you."

It very likely would. And Meg would be grinning the whole way.

By noon I'd noticed that Logan, in fact, hadn't made it in to school that day. I mentioned this to Wallace at lunch and he said he hadn't heard anything about it. "Not exactly my circle," he said. "But I'll keep my ears open in the office and see what I pick up."

"I have trained you well, young grasshopper." I wasn't horrendously worried or anything – Logan could simply have gotten roaring drunk and was sleeping it off.

I learned differently when Meg and Duncan came up to me after school. "Remember a couple of days back when I told you that Dick Casablancas said he'd been planning an "intervention? He wasn't joking. He and ten other 09'ers took Logan back to his house from the party last night and there'll all planning to "turn him back to the person he used to be."

"That's not an intervention; that's kidnapping."

"Should we call the police?" Duncan asked.

I snorted. "Lamb would never believe me. Trust me, I know that from experience." I looked at both of them. "Are you willing to help me?"

Meg said yes, enthusiastically. Duncan said it, a bit less enthusiastically, but he said it.

I saw Wallace across the parking lot. "Wallace!" I called. "I need you over here."

He came jogging over. "What's up?" he asked. I gave him a five-second summary and he said, "I'm in. What do we need to do?"

"We need to pick someone up along the way," I said, "And then? And then we rescue Logan."