A/N: Sorry about the delay. Life kind of happened.

Sven nodded and stood. "Keep them all here." he instructed the troopers. "I'm going to get some air."

Sven took the elevator up the Penthouse. He walked across the room to the large windows, as neon glowing lights lit up the streets. Down below, there was the typical scene of some of the NCR soldiers staggering across the street, other gamblers milling about. One of the windows was open, allowing the cool night air to blow the man's bangs in the breeze. He took off his hat and set it on an end table, as he sat down in a plush red chair. He brought his hand to his face, cradling the top of his nose in his fingertips, closing his eyes briefly. It had been a long night already in the city that never sleeps.

First, the Leader of the Chairmen had been assassinated in his own suite. That case was easy compared to what stared him in the face now. Garrison had the motive and the means to kill Benny, and it was odd that the very night she exacted revenge she herself wound up dead. The already long night was conveyed across his face. Three murders, two of which point to the deceased. Everyone but the Legionary seemed to have some sort of motive. According to the Sniper, the list might be even longer with the black book of lovers. He sighed. Forensic Science of the pre-war era would be helpful at this point, but no one had the time nor the means.

He took a deep breath as he opened his book of notes, going over each one carefully. First off, Henry said that he had found the body. The grain of the velvet blanket was roughed in the opposite direction. The stain of blood on his knee supports his claim. The blood from his palms could very well be from turning the body over. Also, there was no hesitation in his voice. It seemed very likely that he was telling the truth, but who could be sure?

Secondly, Veronica admitted to hearing screams from the other room. Why did she not intervene as the screams were notably different? Was she working with the Sniper? The sniper and her both had the motive and the means to kill her, not to mention not having to worry about security. In theory, one of them could've found the black book, found out when she would be 'entertaining' and frame the lover. It all very well could've been careful planning. Once the lover was inside, Veronica could've used the radio system to call Boone into place, holding the framed until they could call for justice.

That didn't explain why Boone would have blood still on his hands though. If he was the killer, he seemed to be smart enough to destroy the evidence, or the type that would admit to it. It wouldn't make sense to change his clothes, take off the blood-stained shirt and yet leave the knife behind, just to pick it back up again, crimson on his hands.

Henry could've killed her, but if he would've done so, there would be more blood spatter on his armor. He could've grabbed the knife on his way in, replacing it before Boone entered, but the timing wouldn't have worked either, and he also seemed smart enough to know that he could be accused regardless if he rigged the knife in such a way to frame Boone.

Scenario after scenario played in his mind, all coming to dead ends. All of the stories were consistent with the physical evidence as well as the timeline. Leafing through his notes, he came across something that he had written down. His chicken scratch was only legible to him as it was a combination of his own shorthand and sloppy writing.

Henry had said something about witnessing Ms. Garrison hand another playing card to a young man. It brought to mind that Veronica also said that she heard the elevator toll three times. It opened up for the possibility that there was someone else involved. But who, and what would the motive be? He stood as a light bulb seemed to go off in his mind. He snapped the notebook shut as he grabbed his hat and returned to the Presidential Suite.

To be continued...