Okay. Thank you so much to my reviewers and returning readers. My beta reader decided to get a life and go on something called a vacation so this one may have a few more wrinkles than usual. Enjoy,

Disclaimer: Balkoth does not own Teen Titans. I've tried but, for some reason, they're not for sale. Balkoth does own the plot of Of Gumshoes and Moonlighters. If you like what you see, tell me.

Another Job

Twenty-four year old Richard Grayson was currently sitting in his car. Not the best way to spend a Wednesday afternoon but Richard made due. The heater worked it's magic on the confines of the convertible while Richard waited. The keys were hanging in the ignition. Richard couldn't do his job until Garfield showed up. That could take a while.

To pass the time, Richard pulled a faded piece of paper from his pocket. A newspaper article featuring someone who the town had named 'The Raven.' A thief – and one who was evading capture very well. The person had only stolen once to date but the title 'The Raven' wasn't genius design: it came straight from the calling card that had been left behind. A calling card usually indicated an encore performance.

Garfield had pointed out earlier, as if it was an every-day occurrence, that Richard was becoming obsessive. It was a trait that had been rather prevalent in Gotham and was showing no signs of abating now that they had arrived in Jump City. Richard had read and re-read the article so many times that the cheap printing ink was starting to bleed and fade.

Richard had been looking for some clue. There was obviously something that was being overlooked. There had to be; there always was. Richard would have pursued the issue on his own time but that was before Garfield landed them their first case in Jump City. That had led to his current position in the car.

Mrs. Anders had approached Logan and Grayson with a case of stalking. Kori Anders, her little girl, a cheerful redhead of eleven, had noticed on six different occasions that her school bus was being followed. At Kori's stop, the tail would veer off and pass her as she finished walking home. Never the same car, Kori had said when asked. Best case scenario: coincidence. Worst case scenario: a pedophile intent on intercepting Kori in the future. That last one was why Logan and Grayson were on stakeout duty. The first step was to find out what they were dealing with. The second – well, that depended on what they were dealing with.

Richard sighed impatiently as he folded the paper back up. His hand was halfway to his pocket before Richard changed his mind and unfolded the article again. In the back of his mind, Richard knew that this type of behavior wasn't healthy. With another, more powerful, part of his mind, Richard decided he didn't care.

A short interview with the security staff, a statement by the JCPD – Jump City Police Department – and an outline of what had happened as seen by security cameras. The article was a small little thing, bordering on almost an eighth of a page, barely a blip on the radar in average Jump City life. Nobody cared about this, not yet. Not until it was too late.

Static sounded in the car, jolting Richard from his private musings. Richard found the source of the sound instantly and then was very glad that the cause of the transmission hadn't been able to see his reaction. Garfield just had a way of capitalizing on small things until you wanted to shoot yourself.

Richard removed his right hand from where it had come to rest after darting, on muscle memory alone, to the small caliber pistol he always carried. "Report," Richard said while simultaneously picking up the hand-held radio and opening a secure channel.

"Why," Garfield's voice was loud and desperately empty all at once, "did we decide I was going to replace the bus driver today?"

"Because," Richard stated lightly, "I'm better at tracking people than you are."

"Come on," Garfield interrupted, obviously knowing where this conversation was going before it truly started and not liking the direction one bit, "that was a single time! I've gotten better, I swear."

Richard kept on talking, having practiced every line in the event that this argument came up. "The Moxley case should have told you that much."

"One time," Garfield muttered. The sound of retching could be heard over the radio and Richard allowed a shred of sympathy to reach out to the kids Garfield was driving home. Garfield couldn't drive to save his life. Well, not technically. In the Moxley case his inability to drive had savedhis life.

"Also," Richard continued, "you refuse to carry a firearm. Firefights are less likely to take place around large groups of people, especially children. If you were following this guy and got caught," as you undoubtedly would, Richard added to himself, "all you would be able to do would be to smile and hope he was in a good mood."

"Hey!" Garfield cut in, confident that he had found a flaw in Richard's argument, "smiling and hoping that the other guys were in a good mood saved my skin with the Drake thing! If I'd been armed they would have shot me on the spot."

"You're right, Gar." Richard conceded defeat, it would make what came next all the more powerful, "instead they decided to kill you slowly. If I hadn't showed up when I did you'd have died anyway."

"Well," Garfield's voice went up a notch, he was thinking hard, "you wouldn't have had the opportunity to save me if I'd been armed. They wouldn't have underestimated me."

Richard decided to drop the subject. There was no point in continuing this argument, not while they were on a job. "Which cars have been following you?" Richard twisted the keys until the engine emitted a muffled roar. The radios had a limited transmission range. If Garfield was close enough to complain and for Richard to hear it then it was time to move out.

"Okay dude," Garfield fell into his more professional role, the part of him that was a private investigator. The other part was a little kid that refused to grow up. "We've got three possible targets."

Richard popped the glove compartment open and snatched a pen and a notebook from where they always resided: right next to the half-eaten bag of puffy Cheetos. "Talk to me," he said while flipping to an empty page. The notes often helped Richard when it came to the smaller details of a case. They became priceless when Richard started his writing career.

"Right," Garfield continued, "there's a black bug that's been following us for a little over seven miles. They've turned off a few times but always decided to come back. There's a royal purple rental that's been on my bumper for the past five miles, and an ancient looking minivan that's shedding its paint. It might have been red once but it's hard to say."

Richard weighted each car instantly, without thinking. The car that was shedding its paint was too obvious and easy to follow. The black bug seemed the most likely but when Richard spoke it was to say, "I'm going to tail the purple one. Drop Anders off last, just in case I'm wrong."

"Kori," Garfield's protest on how to address the girl fell on an empty frequency. Richard had cut communications. It was a personal thing for him. People were always called by their last names. For the first three months of Logan and Grayson, Richard had always called Garfield by his last name. Never Garfield and certainly not something as familiar as Gar. Then Garfield had taken a bullet for him and the walls had collapsed. Kori was Anders to him. Their old enemy and almost murderer was Moxley, not Drake. It was a personal choice. First names made Richard uncomfortable.

Richard switched on his turn signal and pulled out two hundred meters behind the purple car. Keeping his distance, Richard followed the car until it switched lanes. If it continued with its course the car would end up in the downtown area. Richard hesitated for a fraction of a second before following. Richard had a sixth sense when it came to this kind of thing. A certain feel for when something was out of place. The car shouldn't be heading that way, not if it was following the bus, but he knew that something was up with the purple car.

Weaving in and out of traffic, Richard found himself in a barely traveled street. The purple car was parked outside of some sort of literary club. A poetry club. His target wouldn't likely be here.

The car door opened and a woman stepped out. That threw out the stalker idea right away. As a general rule, woman did not commit rape and, if they did, not on other females. It might happen in isolated cases but Richard had never come across it. Still, he felt like that woman was dangerous.

Richard drove past, ignoring his sixth sense for one of the only times in his life. On the floor of the car the article on The Raven was temporarily forgotten. It hadn't moved since Richard had dropped it when Garfield had called.

Next Update At The Latest: Wednesday, July 12, 2006