Author's Note: So, what did I do wrong with the last chapter? I'm not a "gimme reviews or I quit" type of person, but it's been several days since I posted it and I've gotten one review and a lot fewer hits than the previous chapters.

Was it the controversial subject? If it was, you have to remember that I'm not the main character and in no way share her views.

Was it something else? Or is it just chance? Please tell me, either way.

Disclaimer: Rob Thomas created Veronica Mars and all of the settings and characters thereto. I own only this plot.

Rob aka Mediancat

X X X X X

As I expected, it was ridiculously easy to persuade Logan to let me come over. In the course of the conversation, I found out that he was alone in the house.

This was going to be easier than I thought. Not that Lynn or Trina, on the off chance she was in town, would have been a problem. Lynn was usually in a stupor and Trina was just pathetic. Aaron was a different story, but fortunately he and Lynn were in New York for some kind of awards ceremony.

When he opened the door, he said, "So, what did you – mmmphh!" He didn't get to finish the sentence because I was already kissing him.

When we broke free, he said, "I guess that answers that question," and began to take me to his room.

"Uh-uh," I said. "Somewhere out of the ordinary."

"I realize you don't see them around everywhere, but there are servants lingering. I'm not particularly interested in putting on a show for the downstairs maid."

I said, "Okay, how about the Poolhouse again?" Out of the ordinary enough; we'd only done it in there a couple of times.

He shrugged and said, "What the hell."

Men are so easy to manipulate, really. If I'd pushed it I probably could have gotten him to have sex with me on the kitchen floor, whether the downstairs maid had the day off or was sitting on the living room couch giving out style points. (We would have both gotten 10s. I'm sure of that.)

So we went out there, had a drink, and had sex on the bed, twice.

Throughout all of it – even when Logan was bringing me as much physical pleasure as he possibly could – I looked around for the evidence of the tapes, and the cameras. (I've always had this ability to compartmentalize. It's very useful at times.)

When I saw the camera in the ceiling, I threw Logan of me just as he was about to begin a third go-round. "What the hell is that?" I said.

"That? That's called a ceiling fan. Makes the room cooler. You really should know these things."

"No, I meant what's in the fan," I said. I stood up on the bed and examined it. "Look at this," I said angrily.

He stood up too. "What is it?" he said. Then he noticed the almost-completely hidden camera. "Holy –"

"Did you have anything to do with this?" I demanded, even though I knew he didn't.

"Me?" he said. "It was your idea to come in here."

I let my "anger" subside. "True. So if you didn't do it and I didn't do it –"

He nodded his head, grimly. "Dear old Dad," he said. "Let's check around. I'll bet that's not the only camera in the room."

It wasn't. There was another one in a statue at the head of the bed.

"Well, I don't know about you," I said, "But if we're not going to do it in front of the downstairs maid I'm sure as hell not going to leave any recording of this lying around where your father can see it."

"I'm with you," he said. Of course he was. So we quickly got dressed and then followed the cord from the ceiling fan to where it disappeared – looked around, and found a hidden closet.

Even I wasn't expecting what I found when I opened it. There were two TVs, one for each camera, and live-action shots of what each one was recording – I quickly pulled out the tapes. With any luck, Aaron would assume he'd forgotten to put new ones in.

But that wasn't the surprising part. The surprising part was the hundreds of other videotapes we found back there.

"Wow," Logan said. "I realized Daddy Dearest had trouble keeping it in his pants; I didn't realize he had trouble simply keeping them on . . ."

We took a quick look through the collection – ostensibly out of "curiosity," though I was looking for something specific. There were tapes going back five years – as long as the Echolls had lived in Neptune. And Aaron Echolls, who'd been smart enough to have someone set up this system, had been dumb enough to label his tapes with the names of the women he'd slept with.

While Logan was busy gawping and building up a misplaced sense of moral outrage, I found three tapes from last October marked "Lilly." I quickly shoved one under my shirt, under my arm where it'd be harder to see, and pointed out the other two.

We put them into the room's TV and played them. And there was the visual evidence I needed: Aaron Echolls had been sleeping with Lilly Kane right before her death.

I made my decision right there: Unless I found an overwhelmingly good piece of evidence pointing Weevil's or Duncan's way, I was going to do my damnedest to pin Lilly's murder on Aaron Echolls.

"He was sleeping with her," Logan was saying, almost in a daze. "My own father . . ." I didn't point out that at the time they'd been broken up and Logan had been sleeping with me – his best friend's girlfriend. That would have been counterproductive.

"I wonder," I said, as though the idea was occurring to me for the first time, "If that's all he did."

"What do you mean?" he said.

"Think about it. Your father is a violent, abusive man who's fanatically dedicated to his public image. Look down in that drawer. How many tapes did I take out?"

"Two." Then he said, "There's one missing."

"Here's my scenario," I said. "Aaron brings Lilly back here." Too bad I couldn't use those photos I had, but then Dad would wonder why the hell I'd been sitting on them for the last year. "Lilly notices the camera like I did. She follows the cord and notices the secret stash of videotapes like we did. And she looks for and finds one in particular. Then she closes up the closet and takes off." So far, you'll notice, every word I've said is absolutely true. Now it was time for a little judicious lying.

"But," I continued, "Aaron figures it out sooner rather than later. He goes over to the Kane house and demands the tape back – but she doesn't have it on her and she says something about ruining his career when it gets out. He snaps, shoves her to the ground, and kills her, then drives away. Or runs away. Or whatever."

He looked at me, eyes widening with horror. "We have to find that missing tape," he said.

"Why, Logan," I said. "That's a wonderful idea."