Smug confidence was something Fillmore had mastered.

Actually, he'd gotten it from Anza. In his days before the Patrol, Joseph Anza had been the kind of guy who had contacts and the total ability to hide that fact. His smug, painted smirk was perfectly condescending and arrogant, which was when his quick wit caught them off guard. Once he'd been admitted to the Safety Patrol after a long talk with Wayne and Vallejo, he'd become a flawless interregator for his deadpan, expressionless, utterly serious tone. It was funny, really, seeing as his real self was nothing like those personas. He was actually fairly upbeat and funny, at the end of the day.

But somehow Anza had never thought to apply that first facade to the Patrol. And normally, neither would Fillmore. Mandy was a special case, however. She'd endured three and a half hours of talk without ever flinching from 'I didn't do it'. She held herself rigidly, talking down officers and correcting them on what happened. If there was an alibi, and she was lying, she knew it so well and perfectly that she could fool a lie detector test. For someone that smart, that kind of mind blowingly strong willed smart, the only way to counter her was to catch her off guard. He had to outwit her and corner her and ultimately break her down until she explained what happened. Words wouldn't do that. Silent time in a cold room, all alone with murder charges staring her down would.

When he returned with Ingrid, Mandy met his eyes honestly.

"I didn't do it, Fillmore," she said softly. "But I think I know who did."

Ingrid raised an eyebrow. "Then why didn't you tell us earlier?"

"She's..." Mandy paused, looking far away for a moment. "Untouchable. The perfect student, with straight A's and club memberships and a spot on the cheerleading squad.
A great family with great jobs in a good neighborhood. You know the type. No one would ever believe me over someone like her. Honestly, you may as well turn me into the police right now with a Declaration of Guilt."

"Mandy, we can't do that, and I won't," Fillmore replied, expression darkening. "If you didn't do it then it's our job to prove someone else did. We'll get her and we'll bring her in. I promise."

"Just tell us what happened," Ingrid said softly. "Under Endsville city law, they can't put you in a mental health hospital or charge you with murder if they haven't investigated at least two other people for the same charges. If you tell us who she is, you'll be safe." Noticing the way the two stared at her, she shrugged. "Photographic memory. I've been doing a lot of reading lately."

Mandy smiled, faintly. "Well, get ready to use it again."

- -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- -

"It all started when I was five years old.

She had just moved into my neighborhood. She was short, and alone, and just stood in her driveway holding a stuffed animal for a while. So I asked her how she was. And she told me, and told me, and told me. She wouldn't stop talking to me. Pretty soon I realized I wasn't going to get away in time for dinner if I didn't shut her up. I told her to shut up and I walked off. It had been an hour. I was tired. And after that I decided to steer clear of the weird girl who wouldn't shut up. But she wasn't okay with that. She wanted to be my friend really badly, for some reason.

She begged the teacher to sit near me. She copied my clothes. She read all the same books I did, or tried to anyway. She wasn't that bright. She ran around watching me at recess. And then when she saw Billy was my best friend, she just sort of lost it. She screamed and cried and tore up his coloring book. She threw fits. She tried to fight with him. She called him names. She called me names, too, until finally she curled into a ball and cried herself to sleep. Ever since that day, she's been different. Not quite right in the head. She made friends with my friends and got them to hate me. They follow her around like dogs. She tried to make Billy hate me, but he was a moron. He didn't understand about cool kids and girly power struggles. All he knew how to do was hang out with me, so he did that.

It got worse through elementary school. She ran for class president and signed up for twenty clubs. She was in beauty pageants and dance competetions, a suck up to every last teacher, and she made sure I knew just how many people she had all around her. She built up a network of friends all over the country. She set up websites all about herself. She even went so far as to petetion to get a street named after her. Everything was all about how much she had. I didn't care. I don't give a flip how much fame some elementary age school girl has online. It's worthless. She hated me for saying that. Really, deep down hated me. Because all she's ever wanted is me.

She's always invited me to things, begged me to come to her birthday parties, made sure I knew when I wasn't invited. She put on airs and took on titles to impress me. Every language she learned, every dance routine mastered was all about getting me to speak to her, to notice what she was doing. She wanted me to be her friend, to idolize her the way she used to idolize me. But it all fell flat in the end. I never cared. I look at her and see obsession and insanity, nothing else.

Billy and Irwin are my best friends. They've been with me for longer than anyone else. They always go with me wherever I go, and we've never let her play with us once in our entire lives. Irwin is too smart to be her friend. He knows how she uses people and leaves them behind. He knows why I avoid her. Billy is another story. Billy trusts everyone to be good and play nice. He lacks... lacked, that voice in your head that tells you someone might hurt you or something might be bad. Irwin could see when she was using him. Billy couldn't. He just wasn't smart enough. He attached himself to me like a leech when we were two, because he needed someone to be smart for him. He was also the reason why Irwin met me and liked me. Without Billy, I have nothing, Fillmore. Without him I'm just plain Mandy.

And without him, Mindy finally has her first clear shot at me since I was five."

- -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- -

Invesitgating Mindy wasn't hard.

Her name was everywhere in Ingrid's mind. She was part of every last club at her middle school. She was the star of everything, the girl who wouldn't ever take no for an answer. But her popularity did nothing to hide the fact that Mandy was smarter than her. Mandy was the brightest person in school. Mandy was the one voted most likely to succeed. Mindy was a distant second, try as she might to do every last little thing she could. She was desperate for attention, starving for the spotlight. By Ingrid's calculations, Mindy was a member of 109 clubs in the span of the past four years, having won 233 awards and 12 medals for her service to the school. Yet there was no end in sight. She was out of control, drunk with power.

"She has terrible behavior, Fillmore. And not like Mandy's," Ingrid told him, holding out the girl's file to him. "She likes seeing people cry. She likes making people happy and taking it all away and leaving them with nothing. She's incredibly possessive, of her trophies and awards and her friends. She even hit one kid for saying to hi to someone before her."

"If all she ever wanted was to get Mandy to be her friend, and the only thing in the way was Billy..."

"...She'd have all the resources to pull it off. She didn't mean for the blame to fall on Mandy, Fillmore. She wanted it to blame Irwin! With him out of the way Mandy would be friendless for the first time in her life, so Mindy could swoop in and be a shoulder to cry on." Ingrid's eyes grew wide. "But Mandy figured it out."

"She's smarter than Mindy thinks she is," the African American boy said, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. "I can't believe I almost threw Mandy into a lockdown facility."

Officer Third smiled, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It worked, though. Now all we have to do is go get Mindy."

"Where-"

"Little Miss Love Poetry Competetion, north audiotorium," Ingrid said, reading his mind and handing him a set of keys. "Come on, Folsom's letting us take her golf cart."

"Dawg. She must be pretty upset to let anybody but her drive that thing."

She glanced over at him. "Not too confident in your driving skills, huh?"

He smirked at her. "You kiddin' me? I'll make this ride smooth as a Mercedes."

Was it her, Ingrid wondered, or was there a bit of smugness in his voice that indicated this ride was going to be more like a Hummer?