Betty and Veronica gets finished off here, still at a bit greater length than most of the other eps. Then it's on the gap between this and Kanes and Abels . . . if there'll be a Kanes and Abels in this universe. I'm not sure, yet.

Disclaimer: Rob Thomas owns Veronica Mars. I own a cat, a ten-year-old car and some books. Maybe he'll trade.

X X X X X

I was stuck at the moment. I couldn't figure out who benefited from Polly's disappearance. If this were truly a random act of weirdness, I wasn't going to figure it out without the benefit of the staff of CSI.

Assuming it wasn't – I was going to have to operate on that in order to make any progress – I was going to have to wait for whoever took Polly to make either a ransom demand or a mistake.

On the way back to the office – I had some filing to do for Dad that evening – I asked Logan if he had any ideas.

"I have a lot of ideas," he said suggestively.

I laughed and said, "Focus! I meant about Polly. Who might have taken her, who's helped by her disappearance . . .?"

"Someone's little girl desperately wanted a parrot and, since they were poor, this was the only way they could get it?"

"I think I've heard that plot before. On every sitcom since Three's Company."

"What can I say, Mars? I was raised by television." He though for a second. "Maybe you should ask Weevil. He was taking a lot of bets on the game. And it's hardly out of character for him to try to fix this thing to make some money."

True, that. Weevil had a strong moral code, but this would have been right up his alley. Still, I couldn't see how Polly's kidnapping would help him fix a basketball game."

"I don't either. It's just a thought."

"And a good one. Sports betting? Not something I'm familiar with. I wouldn't have even thought of it. Thank you."

"Was that a compliment, Machiavelli?"

"Don't let it go to your head."

We made out for a few minutes when he dropped me off – promises of things to come – and then I went inside and got to work.

X X X X X

My thoughts about who took Polly had given me an idea with the Abel Koontz situation, too. Who benefits? Why would a dying Abel Koontz take the fall for Lilly's murder?

I debated about whether to bring it up with Dad, given my agreement with Clarence Weidman; but I only promised not to investigate it myself, not to not point Dad in the right direction. After Logan dropped me off, I knocked on Dad's office door and asked him the question.

"Veronica," he said a bit exasperatedly.

"I thought of it while looking for Polly. The Abel Koontz investigation's all you, Dad. But who benefits? Why would he confess to the murder if he didn't commit it?"

He sighed. "Money. Lots of money."

"Dead men spend no loot. So what does it matter?"

"Maybe there's someone else. Someone he cares about who can spend the money after he dies."

"There you go, then. Find that person and maybe there's another angle at proving Abel didn't kill Lilly."

He looked at me suspiciously, but said, "Not a bad idea, Veronica. You promise you're letting me handle it?"

I nodded. "I promise. Too much else to do right now. Parrots and Beavers and goats, oh my."

Then he grinned. "Then I'll see what I can find. Good idea, sweetheart."

I finished the filing up fairly quickly, and then did a quick look up of Cassidy Casablancas. No arrests beyond the obvious one, and the rest of his life had clearly been spent in his older brother and father's shadow. Extracurricular activities out the wazoo – including some time plating junior league baseball and some young businessmen's club, where he received high commendations – proof he was more athletic, maybe, then I'd thought, and something of a long-term thinker, but hardly indicative of a Lex Luthor in training.

Still. He could definitely be malicious. Malicious plus long-term thinker still indicated someone to be suspicious of. I'd never think of Beaver Casablancas as Dick's harmless and somewhat wimpy younger brother again.

That night, at home, Wallace wandered in while I was baking him some more snickerdoodles. After he expressed his amazement that I'd do this for him and I explained why, I said, "Can you do me a favor?"

Matter-of-factly, Wallace said, "Isn't that the bedrock on which our friendship was founded?"

"Get me Cassidy Casablancas' file." He said he would. "What? No questions why?"

"Would you tell me if I asked?"

"No, but I like to hear you ask."

X X X X X

The next day, I got the break I needed in the Polly Case. I was interviewing Arriana – and it had been tough convincing Duncan that the interview would be interesting, and for that matter, that I should be the one doing it. "You're not Chloe Sullivan," Duncan said. "No matter how much you look like her."

Surprised Duncan watched Smallville? I'm not. He'd had a celebrity crush on Allison Mack for years.

Still, I managed.

The interview was, to put it mildly, difficult. Keeping Arriana on a "why animals have rights and shouldn't be eaten track" – a legitimate POV, even if it's not mine – was hard when she kept sticking in personal comments like "And then there's those butch boots you're wearing. You do know a cow died so you could look fashionable, right?"

"If you think my aim is ever to look fashionable, you don't know me very well," I said. "Now: About pets. Why do you think . . ."

Then there a blast of static from the TV. Everyone turned to look at it.

It came from the Pan High gym, I surmised. The camera panned up past a par of shoes and Polly in her cage before it got to a man in a hood, who gave a fakey evil laugh and said, "Greetings from your Masters at Pan High. If Wallace Fennel plays in tomorrow night's game, Polly the Parrot will die. We now return you to your regularly scheduled program."

By this point I was convinced it wasn't someone from Pan High, anyway. I quickly finished up my interview and ran out to find Weevil. Now I knew how Polly's kidnapping would help him.

Weevil was ticked, but he did say that A, he had both sides of the line covered – I was embarrassed when he had to explain what that meant, but like I said, sports betting? Not so much experience there. And B, that he wouldn't have tried to help me recover the bird if he'd had anything to do with it.

So once again. Who benefits if Wallace doesn't play?

A talk with Wallace later and I had my answer. With Wallace out of the game, Jack got to play. Wallace also handed me Beaver Casablancas' file while I was there. Meg helped me run through the video of the ransom demand and a little tweaking showed a quite visible number "13" on the shoes; no points if you guess who, on the Neptune Pirates, wore that number.

That night I had the parrot and the goat in plenty of time to let Wallace suit up for the game. I wasn't entirely sure why Jack had done it, but plenty of proof that he had. Jack was in severe trouble, Polly was back, Pan had its goat, and Wallace was playing.

All was, for the moment, right with the world.

X X X X X

The next night, it was time for my dinner with Lynn Echolls. I scoured through my closet to find something good enough and finally settled on an old but serviceable red dress. A bit short, but I hardly thought Lynn was going to be giving me fashion critiques.

Logan came in, took one look at me, and said, "Wow, Mars . . ."

"Oh, come on," I said as he stepped forward and closed the door. "It's not that great."

"Not that great? If you knew what I was thinking right now –"

"We have a few minutes," I said. "Show me."

He did.

By the time we were done, I had to wash my face, brush my hair, reapply the makeup, and thoroughly scrub the cutting board. Don't ask.

No, still not sex. But we were getting closer. And I wasn't entirely sure how I felt about that.

Well, part of me was VERY sure how I felt about that. The part that was yelling "Yes, yes, yes!" from somewhere other than the part of my brain used for rational thought. But then there was the part still sorting out what had happened at Shelly Pomroy's party.

You don't get over things like that in a year. You don't get over things like that in a lifetime. You live with them, you fight against them, you stop thinking about them. But you don't get over them. For better or worse, they're always part of your life.

I think I needed to tell Logan about that night. Before things went any further.

But not yet.

We showed up at the Echolls estate in plenty of time – didn't have to fight our way through a mob of reporters – and Lynn was there at the door. She hugged me and said, "Good to see you, Veronica." She was dressed in a white sleeveless blouse and looked –

Well, she looked terrific. She looked ten years younger, a lot more relaxed, and in much better shape. And she didn't seem afraid of whatever might be lurking around the next corner.

"Good to see you too, Lynn. You look wonderful."

She smiled widely. "Thanks, Veronica. So do you. That's a terrific dress," she said. Then, leaning closer, she murmured, "Bet Logan had a hard time keeping his hands off you when he picked you up."

I blushed. "Mother," Logan said with both affection and exasperation, "What have I told you about embarrassing our guests?"

"I'm not embarrassing her, Logan," she said, "I'm complimenting her. She deserves it, and a lot more, for what she did for our family" Then she said, "I'm having a cook make us something in the backyard. Come on back."

I stopped at the back door. The poolhouse was completely gone, all the way down to the foundation. "Oh, you noticed that," she said. "Yeah, what happened with Logan clinched it. I didn't want that reminder –" she said the word reminder like it was a cuss word " – around for one second longer."

"Good." I said. I couldn't blame her in the least.

After a second Lynn clapped her hands and said, "I'm sorry," she said. "This is a happy occasion! I'm celebrating my son and his new girlfriend, and I couldn't be more thrilled for the two of you." She was effusive, but she sounded like she meant it. "So, what do you want?" She pointed to the man behind the outdoor grill, which looked like it could have cooked enough meat to feed Cleveland for a week. "We have steak, chicken, salmon, shrimp – oh, Logan, you're not allergic to the smell of shrimp, are you?"

Logan said, "No, I just can't eat it." He looked at me. "I'm allergic to all shellfish."

"And vegetables, if you're feeling vegetarian. Antonio!" she yelled to the chef. "I'll take some salmon. Logan?"

Logan took steak. I had some salmon and some chicken. The dinner, which also included a salad and some herbed potatoes, was too delicious for words.

The conversation was, on balance, light and breezy. She asked how things were going at school, expressed her sympathies once again about Dick having attacked me – "If you ever decide you want him killed or anything, let me know –" and laughed appreciatively when I was done telling her about how I found Polly.

I in turn asked her about the possible rebirth of her acting career.

"Oh, there's nothing possible about it," she said. Logan looked at her. This was news to him, too. "I didn't want to say anything until I was sure – but I got a guest appearance on a show coming up this summer called The Closer." Lynn smiled. "Just getting my feet wet, proving I can still do it."

"It's taken you a while to get back on the horse," Logan said. "But good ridin', Annie Oakley." I congratulated her too.

Lynn looked over at Antonio and told him to take a break. Once he was gone, she said, "And now, we need to talk about the two of you."

"Ah. I was wondering when the interrogation portion of the evening would begin."

"Interrogation?" Lynn seemed confused, then laughed. "Right. Logan told me about your father. I'm not a former sheriff. I already like you and I like the effect you have on Logan. Relax. I'm not going to make threats about how you need to keep your hands off my baby. Besides, I'm sure I'm much too late there." She grinned wickedly. Logan actually blushed a bit, but I'm sure mine was a much deeper red.

"No," Lynn continued. "I just want to be sure that both of you are happy, and Veronica, that you know that I will always be here for you. I know how hard it's been for you for the last year and a half or so since Lilly was killed. I also know," she glared at Logan, "That my son had something to do with that."

Logan held up his hands. "I think Veronica and my recent behavior indicates that all is forgiven." I grabbed his hand and squeezed it to show that it was. Not forgotten, maybe. But forgiven.

"Anyway," she said. "Veronica. You will ALWAYS be able to find help here."

"Thank you," I said simply. "That means a lot." And it did.

"I just wish you could do something about my husband," she said.

"He's already dead, mother dear," Logan said. "Do you want me to dig him up so you can kick his corpse a few times? I know I plan on dancing on his grave at some point."

"Sorry," Lynn said. "I meant, I wish you could prove he killed Lilly Kane instead of that man Koontz. Because he did, you know. I'm sure of it."