Disclaimer: Not mine-- see chapter one.

A/N: I've never been one for terribly long chapters --that's going to be a problem when I write my first best-seller, I'll have to take a page out of Margaret Atwood and keep them short but colorful-- but this is considerably longer than my last chapter wink wink chuffy-barmed-oc (thanks for all the help!) The next chapter is a return to the very short, but five will be another long one. I have a few pages of chapter seven in my notebook and, finals not withstanding, will continue the groove. Hope you're enjoying-- it will pick up, I promise, once I've set the groundwork :)
Warning: Language.
'punzzle


3:04pm
NYPD 16th Precinct
SVU

Olivia turned in her seat as Elliot set a lukewarm cup of station-house coffee in front of her. She offered him a half-smile—"Thanks".
He nodded as he seated himself across from her and took a sip from his own styrofoam cup.
"Any luck with our Frat Boys?" Elliot queried.
Olivia nodded, grimacing slightly at the bitter coffee she had just ingested.
"Being brought in as we speak" she flipped open a folder on her desk, "Matthew Stormer to room 2 and David Reeth to 5".
"You wanna tag-team'em? Or go solo?" Elliot questioned, drinking down the final, murky remnants of his coffee and tossing the used cup into the nearby trashcan with athletic grace.
Olivia knit her carefully-sculpted brows for a moment considering.
"Together, I think—make them wait".
Elliot nodded his agreement and leaned back in his chair.
"So, what do you make of it so far?"
Olivia sipped her coffee and swallowed hard before leaning forward to drop the still half-full cup into the trashcan.
"No sign of forced entry, and the door was locked—so either the perp was someone Robin knew and they locked the door behind them, or they entered through the bedroom window via the fire escape".
Elliot arched a brow, impressed.
"The window was closed" he responded.
"But not locked" Olivia fired back.
Elliot nodded and sat back thoughtfully in his chair. Around them, the daily hustle-and-bustle of the precinct continued undisturbed like a suburban symphony.
"The curtains were open" Elliot mused, more to himself than Olivia.
His partner nodded anyway—"I was wondering that myself" she answered.
"It would have been simple to exit the room, draw the curtains, and close the window. Why leave them open?"
Elliot shrugged—"Fourth floor—not much chance of someone seeing her".
Olivia looked at her partner silently. He met her gaze and lifted one shoulder in a helpless manner.
"For now, our best assumption is that they entered through the door and were therefore someone the vic knew".
Olivia pursed her lips slightly and frowned—"Was the deadbolt locked when Mary reached the apartment?"
Elliot flipped open a nearby coil-ring notebook and shuffled through the worn pages—"She said she unlocked the door, I assume she means both locks, but we don't know for sure", he looked up to meet Olivia's golden gaze, "but we can find out".
Olivia nodded—"If so, and we assume the perp entered through the door then not only were they someone the vic knew, but someone who had a key in their possession, or had access to one".
Elliot raised a brow and opened his mouth to speak—"Elliot! Olivia!" Fin's voice broke through from across the squad room, "you're boys are here".


"So, Matthew, I understand you and David Reeth had a lunch date scheduled with Robin Chester and Mary Westcott this afternoon at Benito's café?" Olivia took a seat across from the tall, lightly-tanned athlete with dark hair and piercing black eyes.
Matthew Stormer was draped casually against the back of his interrogation room chair. His dark eyes swept slowly over Olivia's delicate features before settling on the figure of Elliot Stabler a foot or so behind and to the left of his partner.
"Look, did Mary call you? I don't know what she told you—I don't know what it's going to take; that girl is crazy" he answered briskly.
Olivia arched a brow—"Why would Mary call us?" she questioned.
Stormer scoffed loudly and rolled his head back to gaze at the ceiling.
"She's a sheltered, pampered little princess who couldn't handle rejection". He focused his gaze on Olivia once again.
"Jealousy" he shrugged, "what can I say?"
Olivia flicked her eyes upward to meet Elliot's eyes briefly before questioning Stormer again.
"So, Mary Westcott has made advances towards you?"
Matthew Stormer laughed obnoxiously – "Who hasn't?"
"Apparently Robin Chester" Elliot broke in. "From what we've heard, you're the one who can't handle rejection".
Stormer rolled his coal-black eyes—"Says who? Mary? Bitch couldn't handle that I wanted Robin, not her; too many years of having things handed to you on the silver platter have fucked with her sense of reality".
Olivia lifted a brow—"Oh?"
"I've been in class with Robin for almost three months" Stormer complained, "—three months I've been trying to land a date with that girl. But her 'best friend', Mary, was always there telling me to back off and shit. She couldn't handle that I wanted Robin and not her. So finally, when Robin agreed to go out with me, the condition was that Mary had to come. So I set the bitch up, and they never showed. That Mary; she's always in my way".
Elliot stepped forward from the semi-shadows.
"So what makes you think Mary called us about you? If she's got it so bad for you, why call the cops? Unless she thought there was a real reason to keep you away from Robin".
Stormer leaned forward, crossing his long arms over the tabletop.
"I told you—that bitch is crazy; another little spoiled rich girl who throws a tantrum when she doesn't get her way. She's probably just angry because of my phone call—had her daddy call in a little favor".
Elliot glanced down at Olivia—"What phone call?" Olivia probed.
Stormer sighed and pushed himself back against the chair—"When they didn't show, I called Mary—she probably talked Robin out of it…" he grumbled.
Olivia leaned forward in her seat—"What did you two talk about?"
"Nothing" Stormer answered, "I got her voice mail".
"So what did you say that would make you think Mary called us?" Elliot questioned.
Stormer exhaled, clearly annoyed, and lifted his square shoulders in a shrug—"I told her to move on and back off—I wanted Robin and she needed to get that through her blonde head".
Elliot glanced once more at his partner and stepped back from the table.
"About what time did you make this call?" Olivia asked.
Stormer knit his brow in thought—"Around… 12:45, something like that. Dave and I were still sitting at Benito's".
"From your cell phone then?" Olivia clarified.
Stormer nodded—"Didn't use my fork".
Olivia glanced up at Elliot who nodded and moved toward the door. Matthew Stormer caught the movement and frowned slightly—"Why? What did Mary tell you?"
Olivia looked at Stormer from across the table—"Robin Chester was found murdered in her home this afternoon".
Slowly the atmosphere in the room shifted. Matthew Stormer's arrogance hissed out of him as his shoulders fell.
"Wh-What?"
"What time were Robin and Mary supposed to meet you at Benito's" Elliot asked from across the room.
Matthew blinked—"Uh… noon, sharp. At 12:15 I figured it was just girls, y'know? But by 12:45, I thought Mary and talked her out of it".
"What time did you and David Reeth get to Benito's?" Olivia asked next.
"I got there around quarter to twelve, I think" Matthew responded, leaning back heavily in his seat, "Dave met me there just after twelve—said he got stuck in traffic".
Elliot crossed his arms over his chest, gazing at Stormer. The young man looked suddenly from Olivia to her partner as if trapped.
"You… you don't think I did this! Is that what Mary's telling you?"
"Mary hasn't said anything" Olivia answered him.
"We'll be in touch" Elliot said coolly, opening the interrogation room door and holding it ajar for Olivia. The university student rose stiffly form his seat, mouth opening and closing soundlessly twice, as if gasping for words. He nodded finally and moved past the two detectives flanking his exit.
"Matthew" Olivia asked as he passed, causing him to turn toward her, "when was the last time you spoke with Robin Chester?"
The young man blinked—"Thursday… Thursday morning… in class".