Soon after we left home, I realized that I was on a wild goose chase. First, I have to build a stable foundation – gather enough facts and verify information. I thought about calling Antonio De Vega, but I didn't know where he was staying. At that moment, I had no time to call every single inn, resort and hotel in Olivine City just to pinpoint where he was.

Is there anyone who can give me what I need? Does anyone else have access to classified information?

Suddenly, a light-bulb lit up somewhere in the corners of my mind. But the light it shed wasn't at all bright. It was blood-red, foreboding and threatening. I realized that if I wanted information as soon as possible, I've got no other choice. I gulped.

"I have to talk to him." I muttered almost inaudibly as we halted to a stop.

Right in front of us stood the telephone booth with its red-framed glass door open. It was a torture chamber in disguise, standing there innocently, waiting to swallow me up.

*Am I hearing you correctly? Are you saying you want to talk to that jerk?* Vulpix asked, trying to stifle a giggle. She knew who I meant, since there's no other person in the world whom I despised more.

I nodded, keeping my eyes glued on that telephone booth. It seemed to be staring back at me, asking me if I was really wishing to push through with this, asking me if it was worth it. Visions of the annoying know-it-all and his mop of blue hair filled my mind. But I quickly replaced him with an image of Holmes, turning the telephone dial, looking as calm and composed as ever.

"Well, Vulpix, here I go!" I announced, my voice trembling a bit. Not exactly calm and composed but close enough.

*Good luck, Heather,* this time, Vulpix actually laughed. *I'll wait here.*

I hesitated at first, then went in. My right arm felt heavy as I lifted it up to insert the coins. My fingers felt numb as I punched the numbers.

4-1-1.

Almost immediately after I dialed, a female voice came on the other end, "Olivine City 411. What is your emergency?"

Well, I reasoned to myself, in a way, this is an emergency. I cleared my throat, trying hard to keep my voice steady. "I need to speak to Jim Lawford."

I heard a sigh on the other end of the line. "Kid, we are not tolerating any prank calls. This isn't Jim Lawford's home number. This is an emergency hot-line. If you continue – "

I heard another voice, then static.

Damn, Heather! What did you just do? Calling the police station just to talk to the most obnoxious kid on the face of the earth?

But what else can I do? The police station is probably Jim's second home. Still, I felt nauseous, like I just gulped down a gallon of eggnog. I almost hung up when someone came on. "Hello? Who is this?"

"Heather Jones," I said, wondering if telling them my real name had been the wise thing to do.

"Heather," the voice repeated. It was deep - definitely a male. "Heather, this is Jim. I'm going to call you in a minute."

Before I could reply, he hung up.

Jim? That was him? Where was Mr. Squeaky-pants? From the phone booth, I looked out at Vulpix, who was on the other side of the road. She seemed to be grooming herself – licking her paws clean.

"Vulpix," I whispered, pretending my Pokemon could hear me. "Was that really Jim? Or did the Police Department just played a prank on me?"

For a while there, I stood still. I felt as if an Abra had used Confusion on me. My head was spinning.

Then it hit me.

Duh. He's an adolescent now. The last time I spoke with him, we were in the fifth grade at the Academy. That was when? Two years ago? He was still a kid back then, and his voice had sounded like an Azurill writhing in pain. He had smirked and snickered whenever he bested me by two points on a quiz. He had squeaked and ratted on me every chance he got. He had laughed his irritating, cacophonous high pitched laugh every time the teacher reprimanded me afterward.

Now, Jimmy the Squeaking Geek-freak was squeaking no more. But a grown up larynx doesn't mean he turned over a new leaf. For all I know, he could still be the mean dumb-sucker that he had been in grade school.

I stared at the phone. He said he was going to call me back in a minute. Should I trust him? I shrugged and prepared to leave when the payphone rang.

"H-hello?" I stumbled over my words.

"Heather," It was him. I still couldn't get used to the voice. "The 411 line records all incoming calls. I'm guessing you don't want that. I'm calling you from my Blueberry."

He was still rubbing it in my face that he's gadget boy and police hotshot rolled into one. If you ask me, the only reason behind this is the fact that he's got Officer Jenny for a mother. I shook myself out of my thoughts. Come on, Heather, this isn't fifth grade anymore. Don't flail on the ground, dying of envy.

"Jim. I need your help," I cringed at how desperate I sounded. At that moment, my pride just dropped a meter down the scale.

"What?"

"I need you to give me the name and phone number of a certain private collector," I said quickly. I want to get this over with as soon as possible. "The one who owns De Vega's Weeping Charizard."

Instead of making things easier for both of us, Jim decided to butt his nose in my business. "Why?"

I paused. I could hear him snicker on the other end. "Because. It's important."

"You're not making me do your homework, are you?" he asked. I imagined a smirk creeping on his face.

"No!" I shouted. I looked around to see if anyone had heard me, although the phone booth was soundproof. Regret washed over me and suffocated me. This wasn't definitely worth it. If I knew beforehand that he was just going to interrogate me until midnight, then I should've just called each and every single one of Olivine's hotels. "If you're not going to help me, thanks for – "

He interrupted. "Where are you anyway? Why are you using a payphone? Why not use your landline? Does your mother know where you are? How'd you think she'll react if I tell her what you're up to, calling the police station just to talk to me? I always knew you had a thing for me."

I heard him chuckle and I just about lost it when he continued. "The name's Alberto Verdacci. He lives in Saffron City and his home number's 457-8990."

Despite being the pain in the ass that he is, no kid can match Jim when it comes to gathering intelligence. He mastered the layout of the Police Department Archives when we just began learning about fractions. And word got around that lately, he was able to hack into the Johto Bureau of Investigation. The best part is that his mother's turning a blind eye on all of this. Vulpix and I agreed that Officer Jenny's secretly proud that her son is evolving into the Wonder Hacker.

I muttered a "thanks" that sounded more like a hiccup.

"Sure. And Heather?" he asked, sounding unusually nice.

"Yes?" I narrowed my eyes. Go ahead, Jim. Throw your latest insult at me, see if it lands.

There was silence, then, "Never mind."

He hung up.

Again, it was as if that imaginary Abra came back to heave another Confusion attack at me. I was in a daze. What is up with him? A strange feeling crept over me. I felt a little, well, a little glad that Jim didn't sting as much as he did back then. It's like he's becoming milder. More mature? I don't know.

I turned around on my heels, feeling surprisingly giddy, when I caught Vulpix yawning. She gave me a look that told me to hurry. I nodded at her and smiled.

It's time to get back to business, Heather.

Taking a deep breath, I began to dial Alberto Verdacci's number.