Chapter 12: Case Closed

"No, just because I speak Spanish, does not mean I know the actual words to La Cucaracha," Juliette was saying into the phone as Nick walked through the door.

Nick tried to smile, not sure he even wanted to know what that conversation was about, but after what had just happened with Gretel, he couldn't manage more than a small, half-hearted smirk that didn't reach his eyes.

"Well, I'm sure that's not the only song that the machine will play without malfunctioning," Juliette continued, shaking her head. "And won't the lyrics just show up on the screen anyway?" She stopped, listening to what sounded like baritone squawking on the other end. "Yeah, well, have Sergeant Wu take a look at those wires; maybe he knows how to set it up." More ironically low-pitched squawking. "The captain's really okay with you using the precinct's security monitor for that?" Juliette knit her brows. "I'd check with him first, if I were you." She rolled her eyes. "Okay, you do that. Talk to you later. Bye."

Nick chuckled lightly.

"Hey, Nick, when did you get in?"

"Just now," he told her.

"I've just been invited to your Karaoke For Kops fundraiser." She gestured at the phone before putting it down. "Provided I know the words to La Cucaracha and am willing to sing it in a duet with you."

Nick looked uncomfortable.

"Don't worry," Juliette said, trying to reassure him. "Maybe we can pawn it off on someone else. But, I've got to be honest, it doesn't sound that bad. It might even be a little fun." She smiled playfully, her cheerful expression slowly dropping as she realized Nick seemed to be upset about more than just the potentially embarrassing fundraiser. Not to mention he was supposed to pick up Gretel from the hospital and there was no Gretel in sight. Something was definitely wrong here. "Where's Gretel, by the way?"

"She's going to be staying at Monroe's for a few days," Nick told her, struggling to keep his tone as nonchalant as possible.

"Is everything okay?" Juliette sensed an underlying issue she couldn't fully put her finger on. "Did you guys have a fight?"

He shook his head, not sure if saying 'no' was actually a lie or not. "She just..." He took in a sharp breath. "She's worried about Hansel being under the same roof right now."

"Why?" Juliette asked. "Does she think he's going to try and kill her again?"

"No, but he told her he didn't want to see her ever again so she's decided to give him some space."

"What?" Juliette's nose wrinkled. "When was this?"

"At the hospital." Nick shrugged. "Apparently he snuck in for a little family reunion."

"That's..." She tried to come up with something fitting, finally settling on, "Not good."

"I know."

"You also realize this means we're suck with Hansel," Juliette couldn't help adding. She didn't know the guy, so she couldn't really judge, but with Gretel -even when she'd felt jealous or suspicious of her- there at least hadn't been so high a wall of unreachable arrogance. Trapped in his own issues and -evidently chronic- fears, Hansel acted sort of superior, and he'd rarely come out of guest room except when he needed to pee or shower or whatever. "Somehow I get the feeling he's not going to be the most ideal house guest we've ever had."

The doorbell rang almost immediately after Juliette finished her sentence.

"Were you expecting anybody?" Nick asked, a little surprised.

Juliette thought for a second. "No. You?"

He shook his head again, going over to the door and opening it.

Standing there, probably a little tipsy if not actually full-on drunk, was a scantily clad woman with a big hairdo, wearing heels so high they would have made an acrobat dizzy.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" Nick asked, by this point extremely confused.

"You Hahn-Zeel?" the woman slurred, somehow narrowing her eyes and smiling at the same time.

"Hans Zeel," Nick called over his shoulder, "you've got company."

When Hansel came down the stairs with a half-empty bottle of vodka, grinning too lecherously for comfort, holding onto the railing until his knuckles went white just to keep from toppling over and doing a Willy Wonka roll all the way to the bottom, Nick started to get a bad feeling about this 'guest'.

Juliette seemed to catch on, too. "Please tell me you actually know this girl and she's not a hooker."

"She's not a hooker," Hansel snorted, rolling his eyes. "She's a lady escort."

"And just where is she escorting you?" Juliette snapped.

"To my room?" Hansel said cheekily, lifting the bottle and making the remainder of his vodka slosh around.

Nick frowned. Apparently Gretel hadn't been wrong -or even exaggerating- about her brother being a womanizer. He hoped she was also right about him being a good person deep down; about his not being a total creep.

"You're drunk." Juliette stated the obvious, gaping at Hansel with a mixture of pity and disgust.

"Please," laughed Hansel, looking -for a second there- so much like Gretel that Nick actually blinked and took a half-step backwards. If Hansel really thought she wasn't his twin sister, if he was really that stupid, not just in denial, there was no hope for him.

"So which one'a yous gonna pay meh?" the hooker in the doorway demanded. Noticing Hansel's vodka, she added, "Care tah share?"

"I can't believe you called for a prostitute," Juliette hissed, glaring at Hansel and folding her arms across her chest. "You're a guest in our house!"

Nick lowered his eyebrows, also focusing on Hansel and ignoring the hooker. "You know I'm a cop, right?"

"Uh oh." Hansel's own eyebrows shot up in mock horror. It was obvious he really didn't give a damn.

"You have five seconds to send her away or I get out the handcuffs," Nick warned him.

"Ooh, bah-bay..." simpered the hooker, winking suggestively.

"They're not for what you're thinking," Nick sighed.

"I seeh." She pouted. "So which one'a yous de cop again? You or da guy with the band-aide over 'is nose?"

"Just get out of here," Hansel told her, making a shooing motion with his vodka bottle, his eyes darkening with annoyance.

Somebody's a little self-conscious about his broken nose, thought Nick, trying not to feel too proud of himself.

Pensively nursing what was his fourth? No, wait, fifth? cup of coffee that night, Hank looked through the vertical glass panel at Bianca Snowlight's T.V. flicking from channel to channel. She was getting restless. There was no way she wouldn't be more than ready to leave when her two days here were up.

Hank knew he probably should have just gone home already; it was getting late. But even with the uniformed police officers guarding her door (they were just on a bathroom break right now, thanks to his offering to stand in for them for a few minutes), he still felt anxious. Proof was pretty damn hard to come by. And Bianca herself wasn't going to be much help. If she'd refused to believe her stepmother -who'd made her life miserable and slept with her boyfriend- could have wanted her dead, she definitely wasn't going to support the new theory that one of her uncles was the culprit.

Something had to be done, though. Time was going to run out fast.

It didn't help that there were seven uncles. How were they supposed to narrow that down? They were all overprotective. It wasn't like they could arrest all of them for being controlling. Most people wouldn't even think they were in the wrong, necessarily. A fifteen year old girl did need some level of supervision. Especially one who'd been targeted by a would-be killer.

One of the uncles -Hank really wasn't sure which, he was having a hard time keeping track; he could remember Asher and one other uncle...whatshisSantaface...when he wasn't this completely spent, but aside from that they all kind of blended together- had been trying to practically fore-feed Bianca the hospital's applesauce around dinner time when she said she wasn't hungry, but unless he put arsenic in it first, they couldn't book him on that. Just because he wanted her to finish her applesauce didn't mean he wanted her dead.

There had to be some way to draw out the guilty one... If these guys were Wesen, Hank would have thought it might have been a good idea to get Nick to sort of mess with their insecurities until one of them snapped, woged, and finally confessed. Unless... Could they make one of them angry enough to give themselves away regardless of the fact that they weren't Wesen? They didn't have to be able to woge or be afraid of Nick literally cutting off their heads to confess. How many people had they caught in the past -before they even knew about Wesen- who'd broken down in an interrogation room?

But how were they supposed to get them into an interrogation room if they couldn't arrest them?

Could they say they wanted to interview each of them about Bianca's case again?

Bianca's case...

Not the attempted murder, but the emancipation one...

Hank had an idea. He pulled out his iphone and scrawled through his contacts until he found Nick, calling him. "Hey, man, you asleep?" There was a faint grumble on the other end from a tired Nick, who'd just been about to crawl into bed. (Hansel had vomited on him after the hooker left, Juliette had had to wrestle the remainder of the vodka away from him while he retched, and Nick finally managed to wash off the smell of his fellow Grimm's puke.) "Sorry, I won't keep you." His eyes flickered to the glass panel one more time. "I just wanted to tell you... I think I know how we can get some proof."

"Good news," Nick said, putting a manila folder down on the table in front of a surprised Bianca. "You're legally emancipated."

All seven uncles were in the interrogation room with her. Three were seated, the rest standing behind Bianca's chair protectively. They'd had Captain Renard call them down to the precinct saying some of the records of their previous statements had been tampered with and they needed them all to come and make new formal statements.

Hank stood with his back against the wall, slumped casually, arms folded across his chest. For this to work, he couldn't let himself look interested; couldn't let on that this was a set up and that, for all intents and purposes, Bianca Snowlight was not actually emancipated.

At least Bianca herself knew this wasn't real. Hank hadn't told her why, but he'd asked her to trust him on this. He'd even gotten her to wear a small microphone concealed on her person (just in case the guilty uncle decided to whisper his threat, unknowingly speaking straight into a wireless devise connected to a hidden earpiece Nick was wearing).

Naturally, none of Bianca's uncles could have suspected this. The element of surprise was completely on their side.

"What?" Asher roared.

"The hell?" snapped the one that looked like Santa on a Swiss alps summer vacation gone wrong.

"But he's a homicide cop! This is none of his business."

"Bianca, you can't seriously-"

"Shut up, all of you! She's fif-freaking-teen; she's not going anywhere just because some lousy piece of paper..."

"That lousy piece of paper is the law," Hank reminded him, arching an eyebrow. "She doesn't have to go home with you if she doesn't want to."

More grumbling ensued, but -even though Nick's eyes flickered from face to face to face, searching eagerly for signs of the would be killer- not one of them fully lost their cool; no one openly threatened Bianca.

Maybe the killer just wasn't stupid enough for that.

Damn. That's what the plan was counting on.

Well, maybe not real stupidity, more anger overriding common sense leading to a display of what -a with normal temperament- would be considered stupidity.

But they weren't getting either. Just a speechless Bianca and a bunch of flabbergasted uncles who Nick was starting to wish, holding back the urge to rub his temples, were speechless.

Hank risked a look over at his partner, tugging on his earlobe pointedly.

Nick shook his head.

Hank swallowed back a sigh, keeping his face motionless.

There was no denying it now, though.

His plan was failing.

"Are you going to tell the Dwarton brothers Bianca's not emancipated before they drive off without her?" Renard said dryly, as Bianca and her uncles started down the front hall of the precinct, heading for the door.

"Give it a few more minutes, Captain," Hank replied quietly, almost pleadingly.

"This was a good plan you had, Hank, but I think we have to accept it didn't work." Captain Renard shook his head. It was clear that he was disappointed too. Even with everything else he had to deal with, it was obvious he did actually care about the people of Portland their job was to protect.

"So we just let her go home with a possible suspect?" Hank protested. "Wait until we're called in for a homicide again?" He looked to Nick for back up.

Nick didn't say anything, just fiddled with the earpiece he still wore.

Renard sighed. "I'll allow it. You've got the three minutes it'll take them to get to the parking meter outside. Then it's over. There's nothing else we can do without more evidence."

"It's my fault," Hank murmured.

"Hank-" Nick started.

"No." He held up a hand. "It is. I should have focused on getting evidence when she was in the hospital, not hope for a confession to come flying into our laps. I took the easy way out and now that poor girl's going to pay for it."

A smirk spread across Nick's face. "No, she's not."

"You got something?" Hank's eyes widened.

"I got something all right." Nick let go of the earpiece, made sure he had his gun, and started fast walking to catch up with their suspect. "Asher just threatened her."

As soon as Hank was at his side, they both broke into a run and stormed through the hallway, getting outside just as Asher was latching onto his niece's arm.

"Asher Dwarton, you're under arrest for the attempted murder of Bianca Snowlight!" Nick pointed his gun at him.

Hank took out a set of handcuffs.

Asher made a break for it, running down the block. A couple of the other uncles, not fully understanding, stood in the way, until Hank loudly informed them if they didn't move they'd be arrested for helping him, and they allowed themselves to be brushed aside.

They didn't need to worry, though. Asher wasn't getting anywhere. Even if Nick hadn't been so fast, on him almost the second the Dwarton brothers dispersed, he wouldn't have made it far.

Because a young man in a hoodie had tackled him and was holding him down.

Hank handcuffed him while Bianca, following with a hand over her mouth, started sobbing "Why?" gaping at her uncle in disbelief.

"Because you were going to try and leave him," Hank said, pulling him up by the cuffs. "Some people just don't know when to let go."

"I thought I could trust him," Bianca choked out. "I can't believe he tried to poison me."

"Sometimes trust is a double-edged sword," Nick said.

Bianca nodded, swallowing back more tears and turning away.

As soon as she was gone, Nick turned to the guy in the hoodie. "Thanks, Carl."

Carl Fieri pulled back the hood, revealing his face as it went from full woge form back to normal. "I wasn't about to let that bastard get away with what he tried to do to her."

"You did good," Nick told him.

Carl exhaled sharply. "You too." He smiled weakly. "You know, for a Grimm, you're..." He sighed. "You're not completely awful."

"Well, thank you," Nick chuckled sardonically.

"He's a monster..." croaked Asher. "I always knew he was a monster."

"You have the right to remain silent," Hank reminded him, giving the chain on the cuffs a slight yank. "I'd suggest you use it."

Carl and Nick exchanged a look of genuine amusement, actually grinning at each other.

"You know," Hank said, noticing how well Nick and Carl seemed to be working together, "we still have that opening for an intern. We never did replace Ryan."

Nick shrugged at Carl. "It's a job, and I got a feeling you need one. If you don't mind working with a Grimm on a regular basis."

Carl's smile turned a little shy and for a moment there he couldn't make long-term eye contact with the Grimm or his partner.

Finally, he said, "Yeah, I'd like that."