John clapped Branson on the shoulder, waving him off as Robert exited the Grey Room. By the thunder on the man's face John immediately felt a chill run down his spine. Going up to his friend he nodded toward the Grey Room.

"Something wrong with the interviews?"

"That woman is an insufferable now as ever." Robert jerked a thumb back toward the doors, "She insists on you interviewing her and no one else."

"I can't."

"Then we'll be here all night… and into the next eternity."

John rubbed the bridge of his nose between his eyes, "I'm exhausted and she's difficult to handle on a normal day."

"Then you'd best find the energy to treat this like any other day because she's still waiting in that room and we're running out of other people to interview in the meantime."

"What of the other people at her table?"

"I finished with the three men still alive and while they all seemed shaken I don't know what to think of any of them." Robert sighed, "Maybe we should've handled these tomorrow."

"It's already tomorrow Robert." John rolled his shoulders back. "We'll know more once they find that poison vial."

"Do you think they will?"

"We might have to ask those still here for a turn out of their pockets but otherwise I've no leads."

"Maybe you can ask your wife about it."

"Ex-wife."

"She's still referring to you as her husband."

"Her mistake." John clapped Robert on the shoulder, "Finish the other interviews and send them all home once we've got their addresses."

"I already put the constables to it." Robert stopped John, "As for what my daughter might've told you about being here-"

"Your daughter was celebrating with her husband."

"I know but if she said anything about-"

"Robert," John cleared his throat, "While I'm aware you haven't spoken with your daughter in some time she said it was nothing over which I needed to worry so I didn't. Whatever it is has nothing to do with me."

"Thank you John." Robert struggled for words a moment, "Your discretion is… appreciated and I'm grateful."

"Then that's all I need." John slid past him in the space and entered the now almost deserted room.

Standing at the far end, her arms folded over her chest and surveying the scene below with the occasional non-verbal sounds, stood John's ex-wife. He closed the door and she turned to see him there, smile spreading over her face. "Well, well, if it isn't my husband."

"Ex-husband… which must've been easier once you had me declared dead."

"How was I to know that the Japanese kept any of you alive after they took Singapore?" She walked toward him, taking a seat on the sofa while drawing a cigarette from the case in her clutch. "I wasn't going to wait forever for you to come back to me."

"It wasn't forever, Vera. It was four years."

She blew a stream of smoke toward the ceiling, "It felt like forever and that's all that mattered."

"I guess when you already made yourself comfortable in someone else's bed it'd be difficult to come back to mine." John took a seat on the sofa across from her. "Which is why I'm sure you can understand my confusion when I find you asked my partner to only speak with me and referred to me as you husband."

"You are."

"I was but I'm not anymore." John pointed a finger at her, "You've got someone else filling that role now."

"I do hope you're not about to say something troublingly mournful that'll show me how jealous you are."

"I'd shake the man's hand and thank him from the bottom of my soul if he were here." John extracted his pad and pen from a pocket. "Perhaps you could tell me why you were here and what you saw this evening so we can both leave this conversation as swiftly as possible."

"What did that first biddy tell you?"

"Enough to know that term doesn't fit her since she's younger than you."

"I could see her sneer of judgment in my direction."

"I'm sure that whatever look she gave you wasn't the worst you've received in good company." John consulted his notes, "She did happen to mention your party's desire to make merry was rather distracting."

"I'm sure it was." Vera snorted, "But whatever disgustingly boring evening she had planned could only do to be lightened."

"What were you celebrating so loudly?"

"Richard's company just acquired a rather large portion of his competitor's papers and a foreign contract for his correspondents abroad."

"Richard is?"

"My husband."

"Ah," John made a note, "Does he have a last name?"

"Carlisle."

John raised his head, "The newspaper magnate?"

"That's right." Vera sneered, "I married up."

"Congratulations." John pointed toward the window at their left, "And the deceased man?"

"Kamal Pamuk, Turkish diplomat."

"Excuse me?"

"He's the one who allowed Richard's correspondents into Turkey. They'll be forming up an office there to get information and intelligence for the papers here from all over Asia Minor."

"They don't call it that anymore."

"What do I care what a group of sand pounders want to call their countries?" Vera snorted, stubbing out her fag in the ashtray. "All I know is you'll have a time of it dealing with the troubles the Turkish Embassy'll bring with them at the death of their countryman."

"I'm sure they're frustrations'll only grow when we tell them that your newest and most recently deceased acquaintance was poisoned."

"Poisoned?" Vera cackled, "Who'd go to the trouble of poisoning a dandy like him?"

"Someone who carried a vial on them and then dumped the contents into the wine you were drinking as a toast." John flipped the paper to check a note, "Right before the lights went out."

"I hope you're not trying to pin all of this on me."

"Would I have reason to?"

Vera's face grew stormy, "I'm many things, John Bates, but I don't murder people by poisoning them."

"You're right," John sat back, "You just allow their lives to slowly unravel. Tell me, does Richard now have any of those lovely diseases you went to so many chemists to fix when you were married to me?"

"That's none of your business."

"Then perhaps I should tell Richard the burning sensation he's no doubt feeling is because-"

"Say one more word and I'll-"

"We're done." John closed his pad and capped his pen, "You enjoy what's left of your evening and remember, don't leave the city until we're finished with the investigation."

"Why, think I did it?"

"No because I don't have the evidence to prove you did and it's really not your style." John stood, "You're far more about the slow agony. Only someone with a perverse sense of mercy would've spiked Mr. Pamuk's drink with that level of poison."

"Do you really hate me so much?"

"It's funny you should ask that," John went to the door, "Considering your answer to it, when I asked you, was truly so cruel."

"It was the truth."

"Whatever it was," John stepped into the hallway, "It means I no longer have to endure this room with you. Good night Vera."

The door snapped shut and John noticed Robert standing up from his lean on the wall. "Are we done?"

"Did you finish the other interviews?"

"Yes but they're mostly a jumble at the moment." Robert shook his head as they took the stairs to the ground floor. "These interviews were a waste of time."

"Not if I can tell you that the dead man is a Turkish diplomat."

"You've got to be bloody joking." John shook his head and Robert ground his teeth, "Now we'll have to get the Embassy involved and they'll be nothing but trouble to us."

"As long as they don't insist on trying to investigate it themselves I don't care what they think about all this." John watched as a tall ginger-headed man and a blonde man of almost equivalent height finished gathering the materials from the table. "Someone poisoned their man at that table and they deserve to know why."

"More than we deserve sleep?"

"It's how the situation goes Robert." John pushed at his shoulder. "Get home and find some sleep before we have to report this in tomorrow. We'll need all the energy we have for that."

"The list of suspects in this only gets worse when you realize that the lights being off could mean anyone got into this room and then out of it without being seen."

"That's what troubles me." John motioned toward the constable at the door. "Why'd he tell us that the seventh man of a heist ended up dead here and the other six got away if the dead man was part of an existing party?"

Robert hung his head, "I'll question our constable."

"And I'll tell you how the poison entered the glass." John turned to see Anna standing there, holding up a bag with a pen in it. "The vial wasn't a vial. It was this."

"Someone used their pen to poison Mr. Pamuk."

"So that's his name." Anna nodded, lowering the bag, "I'm glad I don't have to keep referring to him as the 'fellow with obscenely nice teeth' any longer."

"That's what you called him?"

"I didn't have a name." Anna examined the pen, "Whoever had this had the money to remove the ink well inside and replace it without an indication of tampering. The seal is immaculate."

"Someone of means then?"

"Someone with the wrong sorts of friends too I'd imagine." John kneaded his eyes and nodded to the room. "All ready for the tramping of boots?"

"We've collected all the evidence we can and I'll have them start on cataloguing and testing it the moment we get back to our laboratory."

"Don't they need sleep?"

"We're the night shift, Mr. Bates. This is our daylight." Anna smiled, "How did your search up there go?"

"As well as to be expected. Everyone judging their neighbor and those with the closest reach having nothing of any substance to say."

"It's late for them."

"I think the wine flowed a little too freely as well." John noticed Robert waving him over. "When you do manage the autopsy with Doctor Clarkson could you please inform me as soon as possible. I'd like to attend. See what else we can gather about our Mr. Pamuk."

"I'll send a message to your office as soon as I have word." She paused, "I'd be relatively certain in saying that whomever administered the poison did so from a short distance."

"What makes you say so?"

Anna indicated the side of the pen. "When I served as a nurse in the war I worked in a ward where we treated some of the men Naval Intelligence trained."

"Did you?"

"That's about all I can tell you." Anna winked at him, "But one of them showed me a version of this same pen. Not this level of quality but similar enough to know that if you depress the button here then the liquid squirts out in a stream."

"What's the range?"

"Less than six inches."

"So someone brings out a pen and then aims it just so to land in the wine?"

"That's the idea." Anna hefted it, "I could consult with someone I know who helped design these and find out who could've made it."

"That's be most helpful." John paused, "You're really prepared for a case like this."

"We've all got our talents." Anna smiled at him, "Though I think your partner is about to become apoplectic if you don't help him."

John hurried a goodbye before striding to where Robert's hands clenched on air as if he was about to strangle the constable. "What's going on here?"

"He let one of them out." Robert seethed, stepping away to gather his breath as John faced the man.

"What's he talking about Laing?"

Laing blanched, swallowing hard enough to bob his Adam's apple. "I… when I first arrived one of the men coming out of the building told me he needed to alert someone. Said they had to know and he'd be right back so I let him go."

"Did he come back?"

"No," Laing shook his head, "In all the commotion of the forensic team and the body and the interviews I didn't notice until he never left again."

"Was he the one who told you about the robbery?"

Laing nodded. "He said the six got away and he needed to warn someone before they got too far."

John faced Robert, "Who's missing?"

""We've no way of telling until we can speak to one of the proprietors and cross the list of tonight's reservations with the list of our interviewees." Robert leveled a finger at Laing, "You'll be hearing about this directly from the Superintendent himself, do you understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Good." Robert snatched his hat and coat from the man's trembling hands. "Going for help. We are the help you berk."

"I'm sorry sir, I-"

"Save your sorrys for when they might actually do a damned bit of good." Robert stomped outside and John sighed.

"What do you know about the man, Laing? Could you identify him again?"

"If we found him sir, I absolutely could."

"At least we've got that." John took his own hat and coat, "If nothing else."

Anna drummed her fingers on the tabletop as the man examined the pen. "The mechanism's just like the ones I used in the war."

"Exactly the same?"

"I'd say that whomever made ours for us then decided they wanted to capitalize on something a bit more commercial after the war finished." He held it out to her, "This is a quality piece of hardware."

"The American's too cheap to give you something so nice Jack?" Anna took it back, tucking it away into her bag.

"Considering they've only just given us a black man in major league baseball I think we both know the answer to that." Jack grinned at her, "But I doubt your guys had anything much better than we did."

"Then who could do this?"

"The mechanism you need someone with the engineering skills but they wouldn't be nearly as hard to find as whomever you had making this casing around it. I bet…" Jack took the pen back and scribbled on the side of a newspaper. "Like I thought, they found a way to keep it a pen."

"You're saying someone managed to squeeze an inkwell and a poison vial into the same fountain pen?"

"I'm saying that someone took the time to really make this disappear. No one would suspect it and they could've kept it on them afterward like it was nothing." Jack whistled, "Sleek way to keep a murder weapon to yourself."

"Then why not put it back?"

"I'm only the guy telling you how expensive it would've been to make." Jack stepped off the stool, "You're the one supposed to help them find out who did it… and maybe even why."

"Thank you, Jack, for your help."

"Hey, anything for the girl who helped save my fingers in that hospital." He wiggled them for effect, "My career as a pianist and singer in those jazz clubs a few blocks over would've been ruined if you'd given the surgeon his chance at me."

"I think they would've." Anna let out a breath, twirling the pen in her fingers. "But, if you'll take another possible lead, they might be needing a jazz singer and player over at the Cerulean."

"The C Swan won't let someone like me intimidate their guests." Jack shook his head, matching Anna's pace as they walked toward the door, "It's too nice for me and I'm too rough for them. Besides, I like the dig I've got at the Lotus and they're sporting a crowd that's a bit more open minded."

"Then I'll make a point to stop by later."

"We run such corresponding schedules I don't know if you could spare the time." Jack kissed both her cheeks, Anna returning the gesture. "Just keep yourself out of trouble on this. Someone who puts poison in their pens is looking to stay hidden."

"I've got police to keep me safe so I wouldn't worry."

"I worry over my friend and guardian angel." Jack opened the door, "And find a way out of this lab. It's crushing my spirit."

"You've been in worse."

"Exactly my point. Those days are over for me and they should be for you." Jack winked and let himself out.

Anna replaced the pen and jumped a little as Jane entered the room, "You startled me."

"I'm sorry." Jane set the items down. "I've finished cataloguing these and I can confirm we've got a distinct set of prints for at least twenty-five people."

"And those at the table?"

"All seven."

"Good." Anna put the pen down between them. "Then we'll be starting with a match to this one."

She passed another bag, marked for the table and tapped it, "And against these forks next."