MWHAHAHA...cough hack cough I am turning your brain to mush again. I got a cold and I'm typing this out cause I'm bored and feeling a bit cold.

To the faithful reviewer (well I am getting bored with thankz for the review(s)):

Simply Crisis: There's gonna be more murders ta tell ya the truth, but you'll have to wait and find out. If I have the time to crawl out of bed then I'll check your story out...possibly become infatuated and forget all about getting my homework done. And your prayers have been answered about 2 days since the last one...I'm getting better at updating...well at least this story.

Anyways gotta go before my computer decides to crash. Plz review and I'll see you next week.

Secret Whispers: Chapter Seven The Violinest

Busking wasn't terribly profitable, but Ryan did need the extra money to pay his tuition fees. From working and helping out in restaurants and book stores he had enough to live by. Ryan flexed his cold fingers, god it was cold this time of year when the sparse rains came. But at least it wasn't raining...yet. He placed his violin under his chin and played a lively jig to warm up his fingers as people stopped to listen as they passed through the park in which he chose to be his busking place for now.

Soon infatuated couples were dancing and little kids left candy in his violin case, some of the older people did part with some of their precious money. As he finished the jig, someone called out a song, a low and sorrowful lament. He closed his eyes as he played it, he didn't exactly have it all down for memory but that's where improvisation came in handy. Hey, it's not like they noticed anyways.

Trina was marching around the crowds, no doubt looking for something weird to play with. But oh well, it's not like anyone would dare kidnap her. Well into his second hour of busking his fingers started to cramp, he shrugged it off until the very last note of a long and way too sweet love song. He smiled apologetically to the people waiting for the next tune and grabbed his sludge-disguised-as-coffee and drank out of it, warming his cold and cramped fingers. The people started to disperse, reluctantly as they saw that Ryan wouldn't be playing for a while.

Greg and Nick had a hard time finding Ryan, god it's like he disappeared off the face of the planet. He was not a home or at one of his various work places which ranged from one side of the city to the other or anywhere at all. Finally they stopped the car and got out to buy something to eat and drink at a stall on the sidewalk near a park. Nick waited in line as Greg got bored, he perked up as he heard the sweet and melodious notes of a fairly old love song. He followed the sounds and there right smack dab in the middle of the crowd was their missing suspect.

Nick came up and asked him where he had been, Greg pointed entranced at Ryan's playing. Nick swatted him on the head to Greg's indignation, "What?"

"Will you quite looking like a love sick puppy? We need to interview him."

"Hey this is a good song."

Nick looked at Greg surprised, it's not everyday Greg admitted to liking other kinds of music besides hard core rock. Greg frowned as the playing stopped and Ryan went and got a coffee. Nick dragged Greg along as they approached Ryan, "Mr. Anderson?" Nick asked.

Ryan jerked up his head in surprise, "Yeah?" he said sneezing.

"We'd like you to answer some questions." Nick said.

"Shoot." he said turning around.

"Officially."

Ryan turned back around, his expression unreadable. He flicked his eyes over to where Trina was taking a break from her frollicking. He whistled and called her over, much to the distress of Nick's ears. Trina ran and sprung onto Nick's back and happily licked his ears. "She likes you." said Ryan thoughtfully as he packed up his violin.

"I can see that." said Nick bending over as Trina bit and pulled a lock of his hair.

Ryan wondered if he should let the CSI suffer or take pity on him, in the end he chose the latter and lifted Trina into his arms after chiding her to stop. She wrestled for a moment and stopped entirely, seemingly docile. Greg stifled a chuckle, "So you bring your car down here?"

"No, my apartment is not far from here." Ryan said.

"Well perfect, one less tankful of pollution." said Greg.

Nick and Greg led the way as the heaven's opened up and cried, they made a dash for the car from under the cover of trees. Trina barked miserably in the downpour, within seconds they had reached the shelter of the tahoe. Although now their clothes and hair were plastered flat on their bodies, Greg snorted as he looked dispairingly at his darkened hair and combed it back from his face.

Ryan's hair dripped it's way into Trina's fur and chilled her, she made her discomfort known by snapping at a strand of his hair and pounced into the next seat over. The CSI's didn't talk much to either him or to their partner, the silence however wasn't complete do to the fact of the damned rain hammering over and over again onto the car. Ryan wouldn't have been surprised to find little dents on the car once this storm was over.

They reached their destination, Nick parked the car and filed everybody into the building. They left Ryan in an interrogation room where there were these funky two way mirrors. Trina unfortunately had to stay outside, 'I hope she desecrates something out there, namely someones pant leg.' thought Ryan darkly.

The waiting didn't take long though, but a different old man stepped into the interrogation room with Nick Stokes. The old man went right to the filling the recorder in, Ryan gathered that he was Detective Jim Brass. Ryan crossed his arms and legs and let his right foot jiggle in time with some lively jig that was playing insistently over and over in his mind.

Brass cut to the chase more quickly then the other old guy with the tarantulas in his office did, "So the night that Tim Michaels was found dead in his apartment where were you?"

Ryan thought about it before carefully saying, "I was out busking in the same park that he dragged me from." he nodded to Nick.

"Can anyone verify that?"

"I don't know can anyone?" Ryan asked leading him on, "If there is anyone then you'll have to talk to the regulars that come to the park at night."

"Regulars?"

"You know junkies, homeless bums, etc etc..."

"Would you know them if they were put in a line?"

"Come on." Ryan said rolling his eyes, "It's dark in the middle of the night, do you really think I give a damn to who's dancing to my jigs?"

Brass sighed and gave that one a lost cause for now, "What about yesterday night?"

"I was working in that fancy hotel down the strip." Ryan said.

"Can you be more specific?"

"The Rampart?" Ryan said.

"You don't sound so sure there kid."

"Well I don't exactly keep track of which one of Sam Braun's fancy hotels I work each night. Sometimes it's at the Rampart and sometimes at the Tangiers and sometimes I work other shifts in his other hotels."

"I'm guessing you'll still be elusive about who can vouch for you."

"I work anywhere and everywhere I couldn't name five people where I work without getting them mixed up." Ryan said getting slightly bored.

"You know this is not looking good for you." Brass said.

Ryan cocked his head, "So? I got a poor memory."

Nick finally spoke up, "I didn't seem poor to me when you were playing in the park."

"Well." Ryan said leaning forward, "Have you never heard about improvisation? I don't have half those songs to memory, I can play a part of it and improvise the rest."

Nick and Brass exchanged looks, "So don't your listeners notice?"

Ryan shook his head, "As long as they get entertainment they don't care. Besides why are you asking about last night?"

"Do you know Angelena Vermount?"

Ryan shrugged, "Yeah sure she owns the Aroura, I've worked for her a couple of times. She's nice even if Lilly's parents disowned her."

Brass raised an eyebrow, "She was disowned?"

"What?" Ryan asked incredously, "Don't you know? She was disowned cause she was a homosexual and she decided to run a homosexual bar."

Nick cleared his throat clearly uncomfortable and Brass stared wide eyed at Ryan, "What? It doesn't mean I'm gay." he said indignantly.

"Er...we'll need the address to the Aroura. Please." Brass said.

Ryan rolled his eyes and wondered if they were some kinda of homophobics, he gave them the address to the Aroura and asked exasperatedly, "Can I go now?"

"Uh...yeah."

After Ryan left, Greg clapped a hand onto Nick's shoulder, "Nice going there, grasshopper. He didn't give anything incriminating away and you're not suppose to look uncomfortable whenever the issue of homosexuals come up."

"It's just...it's just weird ya know." Nick sighed.

"You and your damn Texan rules." said Greg, "Lighten up, man. This is Vegas where the weird range to the weirdest."

"Uhuh...yeah."

"You know what?"

"What?"

"The murderer could be anybody that hated homosexuals and drugs." Greg said.

"Well ain't that helpful."

"What?"

Nick rolled his eyes, "Never mind. Let's go check out the Aroura."

"Hey, man. If you shy on me I swear I'll pummel you into the ground."

"Deal." said Nick shaking Greg's hand firmly.