Yes, people yes, you will learn more about the Pendrick affair. ;)

This place was atrocious.

It was so bad that he would rather be stuck in a shack with Stockton while the man endlessly berated him. Not only was it pounding with that same terrible racket that had awoken Julia that very morning, but it also had pulsating lights and more scantily clad women (and men) gyrating oddly and against each other in horribly inappropriate ways. Thankfully the place, what George had alluded to as a club – why anyone would want to be a member here was beyond him- was fairly dark and their movements could not be seen in great detail. Not that he was trying to look at any of the young women there, rather, they seemed to be trying to get his attention for some unknown reason.

Murdoch had the sneaking suspicion that it might have to do with their placement in the club. They were in the VIP section, whatever that meant, and seemed to be getting special treatment from the proprietors of this fine establishment. Various waiters and waitresses kept yelling at him telling him if he wanted anything, anything at all, all he had to do was ask.

Apparently they were anxious that he should partake of some of their colourful libations in strange drinking apparatuses.

He kept politely refusing every time, prompting George to finally say, "So now you're religious and you don't drink?"

"I'm not thirsty."

"What?" George said loudly leaning in.

"I said, I am not thirsty!"

George gave him an incredulous look. "How do you expect to have any fun then?"

Rather than answer that he said, "How much longer must we stay here?"

"Jesus, Will! We just got here! I need to unwind! We both do! And if you won't drink," he said grinning, "we'll just have to try something else."

George gestured towards two girls and they gleefully scampered over to their position. Murdoch felt a lump grow in his throat at the prospect of interacting with them.

"What are your names?" George asked as they settled into the booth between them.

"I'm Clarissa," shouted the long blond haired woman closest to George.

"And I'm Lucy," said the curly red haired girl nearest him.

Both were heavily coated in dark eye makeup. The effect was reminiscent of several domestic beatings he had been called to as a constable. If this was supposed to be a desirable or attractive look, he didn't see it.

"Nice to meet you two," George said, putting an arm around Clarissa's bare shoulders. Murdoch thought this highly inappropriate considering they had just met. But then again, people seemed to introduce themselves with their Christian names too, so who was he to say what was 'proper' in this day and age?

"I'm George and this is Will." George grinned again. "Will's having trouble getting into the spirit of things. Got any ideas girls?"

They both instantly exclaimed, "Let's go dancing!"

"That's kind of you to offer," he said, briefly eyeing the sea of depravity before him, "but I am content to stay here."

On 'dry' land.

"What?" said Lucy.

"I said, no thank you!"

She tugged on his hand. "Oh come on Will! It'll be so much fun!"

Eventually she gave up and simply sat there pouting. This was short lived though for some shots appeared before them and the girls and George eagerly imbibed. Lucy held one out to him and he shook his head. She shrugged. After a few rounds of this George and Clarissa suddenly became rather intimate with one another, and Lucy looked towards him expectantly.

When the awkwardness became too much he cleared his throat and said, "Do you have a profession, Lucy?"

She seemed taken aback by the question. "Yeah, I'm in marketing."

"And do you enjoy your work?"

She shrugged. "It's okay...but what I really want to do is start up my own clothing line."

"So why don't you?"

Lucy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I'll just go pull a Kissing Bandit real quick."

It took him a second to work that out. He was pretty sure she was not seriously contemplating robbing a bank but he was not certain.

"I have it on good authority that The Kissing Bandit has been apprehended."

This was true, Julia had 'texted' him to say as much. Now she was attempting to get a confession.

"Really?" Lucy said raising her eyebrows. "I'm usually in the loop. How come I haven't heard about this?"

"It was very recently."

"What kind of a cop...or reporter gets to sit in the VIP area?" Lucy peered at him closely for a moment. "You know, you look really familiar now that I think about it. Have we met before?"

"I highly doubt it."

"Hey wait a minute!" she said, snapping her fingers. "You're Will Murdoch! Aren't you?"

Murdoch swallowed slowly under her now rapt gaze. "Indeed I am."

"Wow! This is so freaking cool! You're like...royalty or something!"

He smiled slightly, in truth it was more of a grimace.

"Hey," she said, cuddling up to him, and batting her eyelashes- instantly he was reminded of Arlene Dennet and felt distinctly uncomfortable- "do you think you could loan me a bit of cash for my clothing line? The banks are such assholes and keep turning me down for some reason." Her fingers were walking up his chest. "I wouldn't need much, just a few thousand dollars-"

Just a few thousand dollars? That was more than an entire years wages!

"That is hardly a small sum and completely out of the question young lady!"

Lucy eyed him disgustedly. "Man, you're an even bigger jerk than the banks!"

She stood up (albeit a bit unsteadily) and pulled her friend away from George's roving hands. "Come on, Lar, let's go! They aren't worth our time!"

Another dirty look later and the two girls were gone.

"What the hell, Will!" shouted George, gesticulating angrily. "Why you always gotta ruin everything?!"

Minutes elapsed in spoken silence. The music had not varied much and continued to throb through him in a most unpleasant way. He felt another headache coming on.

"Well, we might as well make a break for it too!" George said after finishing off the rest of the libations. "I'm over this place!"

They grabbed their coats and made their way to the front entrance. Murdoch was impressed at how unaffected George seemed to be by the considerable amount of alcohol he had consumed.

On route they bumped into Brackenreid and a dark haired woman he had never seen before. The woman shared a look with George for a few seconds and then headed towards the dance floor. George looked like he wanted to follow her but Brackenreid put a massive arm out to bar his way.

"Out of my way incredible Hulk!" George shouted trying to push passed him.

"Best leave her alone, mate. Your boozy breath is liable to make her pass out."

"At least I'm man enough to hold my liquor! How many years has it been since you wussed out and quit?"

"Five years. Best decision I ever made. My body is my temple now, the way it was always meant to be."

George snorted. "Those 'roids jacking you up beg to differ."

"I'll have you know I don't do drugs, of any sort anymore." Brackenreid flexed a gigantic bicep. Even in the relative darkness, Murdoch could make out many a bulging vein. "This is the culmination of many years of blood, sweat and tears."

"Sure," George said rolling his eyes, "keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better."

Brackenreid seemed to lose his patience a bit. "You know what your problem is Crabtree? You're a sore loser. Always have been, always will be. All is fair in love and war...and buddy, you lost. Deal with it and move on. She doesn't want to speak with you."

"We'll see about that!" George exclaimed, trying to dodge passed the human boulder. Movements dulled and lethargic now, Brackenreid was easily able to grasp his arm and hold him in place. A bit of a crowd had begun to form.

"Get your paws off of me you damned dirty ape!"

"Quoting movies are we? Can't even come up with your own material?"

"This is assault! I'll have your ass in jail if you don't unhand me!"

"Sure I'll let you go, sunshine," Brackenreid replied, dragging a hollering George passed the curious onlookers and outside.

Hesitantly, Murdoch followed them.

After he was released, George tried to shove Brackenreid. Nothing happened. Then George punched him in the gut and something happened. George hollered in pain, flailing around like a buffoon.

"Now who's the monkey?" said Brackenreid darkly. "Go on now, get out of here before you really do yourself an injury."

George eyed both of them savagely. "Way to have my back, Will!" he screamed and stormed off into the quickly fading sunset.

A short awkward silence proceeded this.

"I'm sorry you had to witness that, sir. I hope this doesn't put us at odds too."

"When did George become so..."

"Unbearable?"

Murdoch nodded.

"Beats me," Brackenreid said sighing. "I can hardly believe that we used to be best mates. It's a crying shame is what it is. He used to be the nicest guy."

"Well, good night...Brackenreid."

"Good night, sir."

Murdoch felt a bit guilty about not going after George. The fact of the matter was, he had no idea how to handle the younger man in this era. George was quite the wild child and prone to many fits of passion. In less than twenty-four hours he had managed to annoy or alienate many of the people he normally (in his time anyway) got along so famously with. Perhaps tomorrow Murdoch would look into the source of his protege's disquieted mind.

Tomorrow, he thought dismally. When will this nightmare be over?

After a surprisingly sumptuous dinner thrust upon him by an insistent Mrs. Kitchen, he found himself fascinated by the abstract painting Sally Pendrick had given him in 1897. Presumably she had done the same in this time as well. It was too coincidental that he had been entangled in some kind of sinister Pendrick web and also possessed this 'landscape.' The two must be connected. But how?

Steve Michaelopolous had said that Julia had cleared his name in this matter.

Cleared his name of what? What had he supposedly done that was so terrible as to require legal aid?

An unknown length of time passed when he was startled out of his reverie by warm hands wrapping themselves around his upper chest and a head on his shoulder. He would know her touch anywhere. For a gleeful second he thought he was back home. Then she spoke in her harsher Canadian accents and the illusion was shattered.

"What's the deal with you and that painting anyway? You're always staring at it. I don't get the appeal. It's so...ugly."

Murdoch turned around to face her. She smiled and moved in closer.

Just like him, the person she knew had clearly never informed her of the paintings origins. But unlike him, her Will had held on to it and even given it a prominent display spot. If he wanted to find out more about this 'Pendrick Affair', now was the opportune moment.

"It was a gift...from Sally Pendrick."

Her smile instantly disappeared and she took a step back from him.

"Why do you still have it?"

"I was hoping you could solve that mystery for me."

"Huh?" she said, looking confused. "How could I possibly do that?"

Murdoch hesitated a moment. "By telling me what she meant to me."

Wide eyed, "What are you playing at, Will? I thought you had put all that behind you? Why can't you let dead horses lie?"

"Are you saying Sally is dead?"

The very idea seemed to affect him more than he would have expected it to.

Julia gave him a suspicious look. "Have you been drinking with George again? You know you can't keep up with him."

"No, I have not."

She closed the gap between them and sniffed his breath. "If you're not drunk then I don't know what's going on here. All I know is I'm beat and need to crash for the night." She walked across the room, "Oh, and, um, thanks for the tip about Glynn. That slippery bastard cracked and confessed to everything."

"You're welcome, Julia. I'm glad I could be of service to the constabulary."

She turned to give him a scrutinizing look. "We're going to have a nice long chat tomorrow. No excuses. Capiche?"

"I'll clear my schedule," he said with a smile.

Julia snorted a tiny bit in laughter. "Good luck with that." She smiled, "Night, Will."

"Good night, Julia."

Murdoch knew he wouldn't get to sleep tonight until he received satisfactory answers. He needed another source to gain information from. The logical choice was Jasper. The problem was he didn't actually know how to find his half brother. Then he remembered he owned a 'smartphone' and wondered if it would live up to its name.

"Please locate Jasper Linney," he said into the device after 'unlocking' it.

A pleasant female voice said, "Did you say...please locate Master Winny?"

"No, I did not. I said-"

"I'm sorry but I could not find...Master Winny. Perhaps you meant one of these?"

A list of various places popped up, startling him slightly. Nothing remotely related to what he wanted though.

"No, ma'am, those are irrelevant to my needs. I would like you to locate my brother-"

An enormous list appeared. "Is that what you wanted?"

"Please stop wasting my time, ma'am," he said a bit heatedly.

"You sure are uppity tonight, William." More places popped up. "There are nine spas within a one mile radius. The closest one is-"

"Stop this nonsense right now! All I desire you to do is locate Jasper Linney!"

Calling Jasper, came up on the screen. "Thank you!"

He held the phone up to his ear. "Greetings. You have reached Sergeant Jasper Linney of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police."

RCMP? he thought distracted for a second.

"Hello, Jasper it's-"

"Unfortunately, I am not available at the moment. Please feel free to leave a message or try me again later."

Murdoch was very close to throwing his phone across the room. Somehow he controlled himself long enough to leave a message, "Jasper this is William, I need to speak with you. Please call me back as soon as you receive this message."

Not one to sit idly by for very long, he grabbed his coat and ventured forth. With any luck he would be able to locate his brother the old fashioned way.

You know you've been staring at this for too long when 'good' doesn't look like a word anymore. :p