(Major Crimes)

Flynn woke up cold and alone. He hasn't been in a serious relationship since his divorce. He already felt that he ruined his children's childhoods, and he didn't want to take the risk of another screw up. His cell phone rang. The Wyatts were in town, and it was ready to see something happen. He took a shower, put on his deodorant and aftershave and got dressed. He didn't have much of a breakfast, just a coffee and a banana and he was out the door.

He got to work. Provenza was already there, as was Sanchez and Tao. Sykes wasn't there yet and Raydor wasn't there either. She's meeting with Taylor, Provenza answered before he could ask.

"Chief Taylor," Sanchez snickered.

Buzz came in. Everything's set up for the interviews.

(Taylor's office)

"What are you hoping to get from the Wyatts?" Taylor inquired.

"There's a lot we don't know. We don't know if was planning to flee and got killed before she could, or if she got killed and someone staged the escape. We don't know who all knew about her juvenile offense. We don't know how she supported herself or who her friends were. Her family is our best bet in figuring out what she was up to before she died, that will probably tell us who could have possibly done this." Raydor was not happy to have to answer this guy. She never thought she would think this, but she wished Brenda had become Asst. Chief, better yet Chief. She didn't do so well with rules, but she had a brain and got the job done. She didn't go around looking for ways to blame everyone else for every potential problem.

"If you're sure about this?"

"Do you have any other ideas?"

Of course Taylor had none. Raydor went back to the squad room.

Provenza put Mr. and Mrs. Wyatt in interview one and Jr. in interview two. Sanchez relayed this to the captain.

"Flynn," with me please. They headed to interview room one. Sykes arrived with bagels, fruit and coffee. Everyone grabbed something to eat and a coffee and was in the surveillance room with Buzz.

Andrea should have left her house 20 minutes ago, but nothing looked right to her. Her hair was flat. Her makeup was wrong. Her clothes were drab. She didn't even know why she cared so much. It's not like Flynn would notice anyway. She sighed, teased her hair and made it out the door.

"Thank you for joining us," Raydor began. "I am so sorry for your loss."

Mr. Wyatt was totally silent.

"Thank You," Mrs. Wyatt weakly answered. "To be truthful, I feel like I lost my daughter a long time ago."

"When was the last time you spoke to her?"

"She called me from jail and said she needed bail money. I said no way. I tried to help her last time, but she's sick. Maybe she should have stayed in jail."

"Do you know who bailed her out?"

"I assumed one of her sugar daddies. That's how she got by, charming fools for their money."

"You wouldn't have a name, would you?"

"I didn't ask. I didn't want to know, but if you look at her jewelry, you might be able to trace it."

Why hadn't I thought of that, Raydor thought.

"I know this is difficult for you. Could you tell me what happened the first time your daughter was arrested?"

"Don't you have her file?" Mr. Wyatt snapped. He did not want to be here. He left the state because CA become toxic for him, and this was the last reason he would want to return.

"She was a juvenile, so it is sealed. We are working on getting a court order, but it would be much faster if we could find out now."

"She abused my son."

"Our son," Mrs. Wyatt interrupted. Raydor could tell they fought over this a lot.

Her husband ignored her and kept going. "The kindergarten teacher called the cops when she saw he cried a lot and had bruises. The police hauled us out of work like criminals. I had no idea what happened, since I had just pulled a 36hr shift. They interviewed Holly and according to them, her affect was weird. They hired some advocate for her. She got charged in juvenile court. They sent her to jail and later determined she was a nut, so she got civilly committed and they released her when she no longer qualified. She was 20 at that time. I have no idea what she did since then, and I don't care. As long as she was away from my son, she could have fallen off a cliff."

"Did you always have to talk about her like that?"

"Like what. She wasn't going to get a Nobel Peace Prize. You always had to come to her defense."

"She was my daughter. I am all she had. What was I supposed to do?"

"Hire a lawyer and tell her to have a nice life. That's what you should have done."

"She needed me."

"I needed you. Jr. needed you, where were you?"

Raydor was about to send both of them home. They seem to have exhausted their usefulness.

"Where was I? I was trying to fix my messed up daughter, trying to heal my wounded son, trying to deal with your temper, working at my job and trying not to fall apart. Everyone needed be, but what did I need. Who was there for me? No one. I was all alone."

Mr. Wyatt was speechless. He never appreciated how hard this must have been for his former wife. Maybe if he had, not everything would have fallen apart.

"One more question," Flynn piped in. Raydor seemed to be totally distracted by the drama. She did however, give him a stank look. "Do you remember who her lawyer was?"

"Ronald Boykins."

"What a stupid name?" Mr. Wyatt muttered.

"You should be able to find him in the yellow pages."

"Thank you, so much." Flynn was actually useful

Andrea watched from the surveillance room with everyone else. Tao, "I'll look up this Boykins guy and see if he'll come in."

Flynn led Mr. and Mrs. Wyatt to the waiting area. He followed Raydor into interview room two, where a disgruntled Craig Jr. awaited.

He looked sweaty and tired and agitated. "Can I go now?"

"I have a few questions for you," Raydor started. "Of course, you are free to leave, but your parents were so helpful, and I'm sure they'd want you to help too. Do you have any idea who would want to kill your sister?"

"Try every father with a little boy in the area? Who knows how many kids she got her nasty hands on?"

"I hear you showed up to her expungement hearing."

"She never should have had a hearing. She's not "CURED." She just paid some doctors to tell some stupid lies."

Flynn couldn't disagree with that.

"You threatened her life."

"She ruined mine. I would have been more than glad to return the favor, but someone beat me to it." Jr. smirked.

This kid was sick, Andrea thought as she watched the interview. He'd been through hell, and he had had come out broken.

"When was the last time you saw her?"

"When I got dragged out of that stupid hearing."

Raydor realized they weren't going to get anything more out of him today, so she cut him loose. When she released him to his parents, she said that they may have more questions as the case develops. The Wyatt's made a hasty exit.

Tao couldn't find Boykins anywhere in the phone book or listed anywhere as a current practicing attorneys in LA. He was going to need to expand his search.

Andrea saw Flynn get into the elevator. "You look nice today," Flynn said.

"Mmm Thanks," Andrea muttered. Why did she sound like a bitch just now?

"Bad day?"

"Bad case," she answered. "I don't know what's worse, knowing her victims were children or seeing what they grew up to become. This whole thing just makes me sick."

"I know the feeling. I wish I could take a vacation right now."

"When's the last time you took a vacation?"

"I don't usually. I just rack up vacation days until they say I can't have any more, take enough to get under the threshold, and go back to work."

"You don't spend the time with your kids?"

"Sometimes, they stop by on weekends, but they don't get too excited about their formerly drunkard for a father."

"That's too bad. If only they saw, who you have become."

Flynn blushed. He wondered how such a kind woman was still single.

"Have you seen Captain Raydor?" Sykes interrupted.

"She's not here, unless she's hiding in my pants again."

Andrea chuckled. Flynn was so crass.

"Dr. Morales is looking for her."

"Try the waiting room."

Sykes found Raydor and told her to find Morales. Raydor made her way to the morgue.

"This is definitely Prescott, fingerprints were a match. DNA is still at the lab. She was definitely strangled," Morales began. "The killer broke her neck in the process and probably used his hands. There was no fabric or anything else imbedded in her neck."

"Why was the scarf there?"

"My guess- and I'm no shrink- was that it was a parting gift."

"The killer knew her personally."

"Don't hold me to that. I'm no Ducky."

Raydor didn't get the reference. "Did you get any closer on time of death?"

"When did she disappear?"

"The last court date she appeared on was May 18th, 2012 and she didn't appear on May 2,1st 2012."

"I'm going to go with in between May 18th and May 20th, 2012."

Raydor was not amused.

"The pollen on the underside of her corpse was consistent with May flowers," Morales chuckled. "The level of decomposition was consistent with her being dead for more than a year. There was not much of her organs left, and what I could test showed no signs of any toxic substances although her hair showed metabolites from heroin. Whatever ate her after she died came and left a long time ago."

"Thank you for your help. If you find anything else of interest, please let me know."

(Back to Brenda and Fritz)

Fritz wasn't surprised that El Torro was a douche at his arraignment. The judge tried to set his bail and he cursed her out. She ordered him remanded at the jail and ordered a psych evaluation to see if he was competent to stand trial. A bunch of legal wrangling would ensue. Fritz had a chat with the ADA on the case. Jenkins wasn't so bad. He was just kind of drab. Fritz went over every detail: the informant who tipped them off, the surveillance team they did on El Torro's customers, the stakeout for the shipment, the arrest, seizure, drug analysis at the lab. All of this was in his file, can't the guy just read it. No, he has to hear it verbatim and make sure it matches what his report says. I'm not a damn rookie, Fritz thought to himself. Finally, it was lunch time.

Brenda's phone rang. "Hey, Baby," she answered.

"I miss you."

"Work's that boring Fritzi?"

"You have no idea. I just had a lovely debriefing with nauseating P Jenkins." He was so boring, he made you want to throw up, just so something happened.

"Play nice. That's what you always used to tell me," Brenda laughed. Fritz finally learned what it's like to have to work with irrelevant people.

"I could kick myself for that," Fritz muttered. "How's your day?"

"Same old, Same old. FID is in a pissing match with Traffic because one of the Traffic officers accidentally ran over a hobo. The family is threatening to sue, and we have been asked to diffuse the situation and help ascertain if there was an actual crime to investigate."

"This is same old, same old." Fritz was surprised. "This sounds like a hot mess."

"Which is same old, same old to me. The family creates this big scene because their poor brother died. Where were they when he needed them. No where. They could have taken him in with them, put him in a motel. No, they left him on the street to fend for himself and magically appear when there's a payday to be had."

"Aren't you the optimist today?"

"I'm just ready to go home. There was no crime. It was dark. The traffic light was out. The man ran out of nowhere in between two parked cars. The officer had no chance to stop. A healthy man wouldn't have died, but this guy was so malnourished that he was brittle. Can't he just have a funeral and finally become a human being, not just someone's commodity. There was no intentional use of force. I don't see why FID even cares."

"Who runs it now?"

"Some Branson guy that Taylor appointed. He's an ass."

"He's friends with Taylor. What did you expect?"

"Not much," Brenda admitted. "I'll see you at home, baby."

"Bye, Love."

Fritz went back to his turkey sandwich, not very exciting. After lunch, he walked back to his car. A store caught his eye. He couldn't tell what they sold. They called themselves in charge. There were bars on the windows and it was not easy to see in from the outside. Fritz looked at his watch. He had a little time and he wondered inside.

He got carded at the door. He showed his ID and went inside. There was nothing on the main floor. Everything was in the basement. It was a bondage shop: swings, whips, ticklers, nipple clamps, crops, a suspension rig, gags, paddles, dildo's on sticks, gloves, some toys he couldn't identify- weird looking metal balls, some pyramid shaped stuff with flared bases and there was clothes as well: leather harnesses, assless chaps, boots, chastity belts, dominatrix stuff, very tiny skirts and bras with an open front. Fritz didn't know how to use all of this stuff, but he knew he wanted to use some of it on Brenda. This will really make her scream, he thought as he imagined her in one of the slutty leather outfits, tied up. Ass exposed and bent over my knee, Fritz muttered to himself. He knew where another wish would go.

"Can I help you with something?" Fritz jumped at the sound of the young sales associate. She was small and asian in a school-girl outfit. He was surprised to see her there, although it wasn't that surprising. She was probably really good for business.

"I don't really know where to start," Fritz stammered. "I want to get something for me and my wife, but I don't know …."

"Let's start here." Amy showed Fritz some books and grabbed him a comprehensive one for beginners. She also showed him the Ben-Wa balls, some silk rope, a feather tickler and the easiest going clamps. She saw him eyeing the paddles, so she grabbed him the softest one and a book on giving spankings.

Fritz left the place with a lot of stuff and ready to play. "Shit!" He looked at the time, and he was way past his lunch break.

He threw the stuff in the trunk and peeled out.

Bobby sent his resume to five different places, and one of them was even hiring ASAP. Their previous general contractor walked off on the job, so he had an interview for Wednesday. He came home for lunch and took Hunter out for a run. He came around back to see police tape up. He tied Hunter to a tree and wondered up to the scene to see what happened.

"All I see is a ditch. This must have been the crime of the century."

"Looking for something," a uniform came up from behind him.

"I was just wondering what happened here. Nosiness I guess."

"Hmm." The uniform was suspicious. The guy looked big and strong and a woman had been strangled and ditched there. "So you weren't returning to the scene of the crime."

"I've never been here before. I just moved here from Atlanta."

The guy did have a twang to his voice. Maybe he was just a spectator. People come out for this kind of crap. Don't know why. See one murder, see them all.

"Look my name is Clay Johnson. I'm just a busy body, guess it runs in the family."

"Johnson did you say? You wouldn't happen to be Chief Johnson's brother would you."

"Actually I would. Do you know her?"

"No, but my brother works Traffic, and her office is given one of his guys a hard time."

"I could talk to her," Jr. offered, ready to get out of there.

"That would be great. I never saw you here."

Clay and Hunter went home. After she got her water, he gave Brenda a call.

"Hey sis."

"Bobby, how was the job hunt."

"It wasn't too bad. I have an interview."

"Great. Hopefully, it'll pan out."

"Look, are you investigating a guy in traffic right now."

"How'd you hear about that?"

"A little birdie. Anyway, apparently you're giving him a hard time?"

"Me. FID is giving him a hard time. I have no control over them. They're in a huff because there were muddy footprints."

"Muddy footprints?"

"Yeah. They didn't match the victim, so they think someone chased him into the street, but the cop didn't see anyone. I can't explain the footprints, so they won't drop it."

"Who knows how long those footprints were there?"

"It had been raining that evening. The footprints looked pretty fresh to the responding officers. I feel bad for the guy. He probably didn't do anything wrong, but someone chased that victim into the street. He was running from somebody, and until we find him..."

"I know, but try and play nice."

"Why does everyone tell me that?"

"You know why. See you at home B."

Clay hoped that this would clear him out of dodge. He didn't know what happened in that ditch, but he didn't want anything to do with the case.

He showered and gave Charlie a call.

"Hey, Buttercup, how was class today?"

"Same old, Same old."

"That much fun."

"The same kids run their mouths citing philosophers whose books they never read beyond the first chapter and our professor pretends to be fascinated as she plays Angry Birds on her computer. I'm really getting my money's worth."

"You mean my money's worth. All your classes can't be that bad."

"No. Just this mandatory English class. No one would take it voluntarily. I think this course exists to give our professor a job."

"Be nice."

"She's nailing the Dean. It's a scam."

Bobby laughed. "It's good to hear from you. Do you think you would want to come to LA for Christmas?"

"Yes! Will Aunt Brenda be there?"

"I assume so. I think Grandpa's staying in Florida, and you know Brenda doesn't want to visit uncle Clay."

"It's his wife she doesn't want to visit."

"How's your mother?"

"Apparently, she found a Sugar Daddy. Some entrepreneur or something. I bet it's a scam."

"Try and be happy for her."

"Why she's a ho?"

"Charlene Johnson. Do not speak of your mother that way?"

"Do not call me Charlene."

"Try and be nice to your mom. She is a broken person."

"She's just selfish, Dad. She always has been, but I'll try to be nice."

"Just try."

"How's the divorce going?"

"I dunno. I left everything with Cousin Jacob."

"That fool."

"Charlene!"

"Charlie."

"He's a nice guy and he's a lawyer."

"He barely passed the bar, and he has no clients, because he's not the sharpest tool in the box."

"He's what I have, so it will have to do."

"Don't say I didn't warn you. Bye Dad"

"Bye Charlie."

When did Charlie become so contemptuous? Clay asked himself as he got ready to get in the shower. He sighed and scrubbed away his afternoon.

(Major Crimes)

At the morgue, Morales had another body to deal with. This hobo got hit by a car. He had osteoporosis, which wasn't a good sign and in is pants was a sewn in hard object. Morales cut open the pants and pulled out a diamond necklace. It actually looked real. "Where the hell did he get this?" He looked at his file and found out that both Branson and Chief Johnson were looking into the case. He called the Chief, Branson was a total ass.

"Hey Chief Johnson," I found a diamond necklace in your victim's clothes.

"A real one?" she asked with her southern drawl.

"It appears so. I took a picture, and it should appear in your e-mail."

Brenda checked, and sure enough, there it was. "How come you didn't see this before?"

"It was sewn into the fabric, not in a pocket, and I was told to give priority to the Prescott murder."

"I will come over and pick it up. Do tell me if you find anymore mysterious items on this guy."

Morales looked at the corpse again. His bones were crap. He hadn't eaten properly in years, and his body leeched out the calcium, trying to survive. His stomach had been empty when he died. If he couldn't eat, why not pawn the necklace? He drew out a sample for a toxic screen and sent it to the lab. He examined the rest of the body. His joints were poor, and this guy didn't stand much of a chance.

Brenda walked into the LAPD precinct with Gabriel. She got a visitor's badge, which felt odd, and they went down to the morgue.

"Chief Johnson, Detective Gabriel, good to see you." He was happy to see them. He missed Brenda's antics, and Gabriel was a cutie.

"I hear you have a wedding comingC up. Congratulations!"

"Oh Yes. Since Prop 8 got overturned, we decided to tie the knot. Invitations will be forthcoming."

"Great. So our victim had some bling."

Gabriel was surprised she knew what bling was.

"I've seen rap videos," she answered. Morales and Gabriel laughed at that response.

"Here it is." Morales held up the necklace. It was exquisite. Diamonds formed a flower in the middle with a diamond chain to surround them. It looked like it cost a lot of money.

"Now this was a reason to chase a hobo into the street." She took the necklace that was in an evidence bag.

"Gabriel, we need to find out who purchased this necklace and for whom. Hopefully, we can figure out how our victim got it."

"What about FID?"

"We'll tell them, after I know how he got it." Brenda wasn't about to play nice with Branson. She wanted answers, not red tape.

Gabriel took the necklace and scanned a picture of it. He found the original jeweler, which was Littman Jewelers. They were not happy to see that their work ended up in the hands of a dead homeless man, but they faxed a copy of their original receipt. A Devin McAdams bought it two years ago. Next job, find this guy.

"Is there anything else, you can tell us about this man?"

"He wasn't hit very hard with the car. This guy had been under eating for a long time. He died on an empty stomach and his joints were crap."

"He died on an empty stomach with a necklace like that."

"Maybe he was going to try to sell it."

"Maybe he already had."

Brenda had her new squad send a copy of the necklace and sent it to all of the pawn shops, canvas the neighborhood to see if anyone saw or heard anything suspicious, and interview people at the nearby homeless shelter and soup kitchen to see what they could find out about the necklace or the victim.

Then, she headed home, ready to put this case off her mind for at least a day.