Okay, I now have over 300 reviews. I'm reasonably certain all of my other works together don't have that. Thanks again to all of you. Also, this part marks the point where I go over the 100,000 word mark. (If I counted correctly, it's the first time Dr. London uses the word 'intuition.' Yes, I am occasionally a geek.

Still firmly centered in "Hot Dogs." Only one offhand line of dialogue from the show as aired, though.

Disclaimer: Veronica Mars was created by certified genius Rob Thomas. I may be a certified genius, but I am not, alas, Rob Thomas.

X X X X X

Unfortunately, 'get to work' proved to be a wild overstatement. We essentially figured out that the four words could apply to almost anyone there -- I wasn't completely sure about the gender pronoun -- and that 'came back' had so many different meanings that it would be exhaustively laborious trying to figure it out logically.

"That may the problem right there, Machiavelli," Logan said. "You're trying to use logic where it doesn't apply: to your dreams. If you're convinced, it means something then I believe you. But maybe the less you try to figure it out the better off you'll be."

While I was trying to sort through that, my cell phone rang. It was Meg.

"Hi, Veronica," she said. "Got time for an update?"

"Update away."

"Well, first, you were right. The dogs that had bigger rewards attached to their return, returned. The ones that didn't . . . didn't. At least, most of them. I think someone is taking 09'er dogs."

"Good work. And second?"

She sighed. "The pound called and said that they'd found Chester hit by the side of the highway. They provided his collar as proof."

My heart sank. "Damn."

"I think I'm one up on you this time, Ronniekins," she said. "I asked to see the body. They wouldn't show it to me,"

"Maybe it was horribly mangled," I said.

"Uh-uh. The collar was clean -- no blood or other icky stuff. I think they might have something to do with this."

It was a leap -- but it wasn't a giant one. Sure, there could be other reasons, but it was suspicious enough to at least be worth checking up on. "Any idea where to go from here?"

"Not right now. Unfortunately, staking out the place is out -- I have to be home too early every night. Hmmm. How about if I call the people who had their dogs recovered and maybe see who it was that returned them?"

"A good start," I said. "Try to stay away from doing anything dangerous, though. No confrontations."

"None planned," Meg said. "But if someone is stealing Neptune dogs –"

"They need to be brought down hard," I said, "beaten with a tire iron, and then weighted and dumped into the Pacific."

"I was going to go with 'arrested,' but that works too. Anyway, I'm going to go make those calls." She said goodbye and I turned back to Logan.

"So, a full-time assistant," Logan said. "Moving up in the world, aren't you?"

"Not full-time," I said. "This is just a practice run for her. She's got something else she wants to use these skills for. Duncan knows, but he's not telling." I knew more than Meg thought, but still not enough to do anything more than make an educated guess. "And don't ask him."

"I wasn't going to," he said, holding up his hands. "So how's she doing?"

"Very well. A couple of rookie mistakes, but honestly, she could make it her career if she was so inclined."

"She's not going to have a career," Logan said.

"Huh?"

"Her parents won't let her. All of this extracurricular activity she's doing is supposed to make her more well-rounded and a 'better catch.' They expect her to be married to a good, God-fearing man by the time she's 21, and popping out grandchildren shortly thereafter."

"Meg's parents are that conservative?"

"Meg's parents are religious fanatics," Logan said. "I met them once. That was quite enough. How they produced someone as sunny as Meg is completely beyond me."

I already knew they were controlling. Toss in religious fanaticism and I would have bet my left arm – or what was left of it – that there was some kind of abuse going on.

Meg. . please ask me for help before you take them on.

Please.

We sat around and watched TV until Dad got home. He wasn't surprised to see Logan there, though thanks to our being careful he had nothing to pin his suspicions on.

"So what have you two been up to?" he asked.

"Oh, the usual – talking, watching TV, kitten barbecues. You?"

"Kitten barbecues?" he said, frowning.

"We saved you one," Logan said. "It's in the freezer. Veronica said you prefer a nice honey glaze."

Dad looked at Logan and shook his head with mock sadness. "Now she's got you doing it too."

"She's a bad influence," Logan said.

"I know," Dad said. "What's a father to do?"

X X X X X

That night, I had a couple of phone calls to make. After dinner, Dad had gone out to try to catch a local businesswoman cheating on her husband.

I decided to take the easier call first and work my way up. I looked at Dr. London's business card – her first name was Justine – and, sitting on the edge of my bed, tried her office number.

To my relief, she was in. "Veronica," she said. "How's your shoulder?"

"It still hurts – but nothing I can't handle. The hardest part is sleeping on my right side. I always wind up facing the wall when I do that."

"Is there something frightening on the wall you don't want to see?"

I laughed. "No. It's just boring."

"I would have thought boring would be helpful when you're trying to go to sleep." After a second, she said, "And you're being careful with your shoulder?"

"Yes."

"Even when you and your boyfriend have sex?"

I fell off my bed.

"Veronica?" I heard distantly. Apparently I'd dropped the phone. "Are you all right?"

Picking it up, I said, "Yes," face reddening. "I just wasn't expecting the question. I hadn't thought we'd said anything like that where anyone could pick up on it."

"You didn't. It was intuition on my part. And good intuition, I'm guessing. So are you being careful?" When I didn't answer, she said, "Veronica, I'm a doctor. I'm not asking this for prurient reasons." After a second, "Although it is fun to hear people sputter when I ask it."

I couldn't help but smile at that. "Yes," I said. "We were careful."

"Good. No offbeat positions until I give you the go-ahead to put weight on it, alright?"

"Okay."

"Now, you called me. What did you want to ask?"

"The bullet. I realize you're not a forensics expert, but how sure are you of where it was shot from?" It had occurred to me that the place the rifle had been found wasn't necessarily the place it was used.

"I actually don't know where it was found," she said. "But I do know the angle of the wound shows it was shot from somewhere well off to your left."

"Could you be more specific?'

"If you're standing at the center of a traditional clock," Dr. London said, "Then I would say that whoever shot you was standing at somewhere between 9 and 10."

Which was more or less where Weevil found the rifle, so scratch that idea. I needed to see the place where it was found. Fortunately, access to the Echolls estate? Not so much a problem these days. "Thank you, Dr. London."

"You're welcome. I don't know why you wanted to know this, but I'm assuming the reason was good."

"It was." We said our goodbyes and hung up.

And sadly, that probably would be the easier of the two calls I was planning on making. I gritted my teeth and punched in the numbers for the second person.

I got a recording. "This is Trina Echolls. If you're calling to ask me questions about my father being framed, please call –" she left a number-- "and my agent will get back to you to arrange an interview. Everyone else, leave your name and message at the beep."

"Trina, hi, it's Veronica. I realize I might not be your favorite person on the planet at the moment, but I'm trying to figure out who shot me – and I'd like to know if you told anyone about Lynn's potential revelation before the press conference. Call me back when you can."

I hung up, debated calling Meg while I waited – ultimately I decided against it, no point in micromanaging. Then I got started on some homework.

It was about ten to eight when Trina called. "Veronica. Hi," she said. "And no, you're not my favorite person on the planet but I don't hate you. I even tried to find a doctor when you got shot, remember?"

"I remember, Trina."

"I thought the person who shot you was in jail already." Typical Trina -- she didn't even ask how I was doing.

"Yeah, about that . . . I don't think he did it."

"Oh, Veronica, Veronica," she said. "Just because your Dad got Abel Koontz off doesn't mean you can do the same thing." She laughed. "I mean, it's nice to have a crusade, but maybe the crusade should be something a little more meaningful?"

"I personally think making sure someone doesn't go to jail for something they didn't do is ubermeaningful," I said. "Maybe our definitions are different."

"Someone important like my Dad? Sure. Someone like Little Dick Casablancas --" I made a mental note to stop calling Dick that; if Trina could come up with it, it was too obvious -- "Not so much." Before I could continue, she said, "You know, Veronica, just because your friend seduced my Dad doesn't mean he killed her."

I amazed myself by not ripping Trina a new one. "Anyway, did you tell anyone about the accusations Lynn was going to make?"

"My agent, Jojo Kenney; Dad's agent, Harvey Greenblatt; and I mentioned it on a couple of online forums."

"You use online forums?"

"Best source for gossip and knowing what's happening to who," she said. She gave me the names of the forums and her agent's number. "I'm sure Lynn has Harvey Greenblatt's number somewhere," she said. He was the one I was going to call first; He was probably, through my connections with Lynn, the most reachable. I'd try Jojo Kenney -- god, what a name -- afterwards. I was going to ask Mac to check out the online forums -- not her usual run, but maybe she'd be able to tell if there was anything off-kilter about any of it. (Or be able to tell if Trina had actually been the one who posted them.)

"Thank you, Trina."

"I think you're wasting your time, Veronica, but anything you need, you know all you have to do is ask." With that, she hung up. Sadly, I really think she believed what she was saying.

So, I had a couple of leads.

I quickly called Lynn and asked him for Harvey Greenblatt's number. I'd explore the grounds tomorrow afternoon, barring any major developments in the dognapping case. She said, "I'll have to let him know you're calling him or you'll never get through. I don't know how happy he'll be to hear from me, though."

"Really. Why?"

"Well, somehow he found out that I was going to out Aaron as the murderer of Lilly Kane and he begged me not to -- he said it would ruin his posthumous career and my money flow. He was kind of ticked when I told him that this was the way it was going to be and that I already had more money than I knew what to do with. He said he wasn't going to let me drag him down with him and hung up on me. Anyway, I'll do what I can."

"Thanks, Lynn."

Well. Wasn't that interesting.