Apologies for taking so long on the update, but college life is not all puppy dogs and ice cream. But, I've conquered my busyness and have managed to write another chapter for you.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Shirley led me down the street at a swift pace which I tried my best to keep up with. "Where are we going?" I asked.

"Northumberland Street," Shirley replied, "It's just a five minute walk from here."

"You really think he's stupid enough to go there?" I asked incredulously.

Shirley smiled to herself. "No. I think he's brilliant enough," she said, "I love the brilliant ones. They're always so desperate to get caught."

I wasn't quite sure what she meant by that. Did she know something I didn't. "Why?" I wondered.

"Appreciation," Shirley replied, "Applause. At long last, the spotlight. That's the frailty of genius, Jen. It needs an audience."

I glanced at the pale, black-clad, red-lipped woman beside me, the perfect example of what she had just described, and suddenly understood exactly what she meant. "Yeah," I simply said.

Shirley began circling around as she walked, looking all about the street. "This is his hunting ground," she said, "Right here in the heart of the city. Now that we know his victims were abducted, that changes everything. Because all of his victims disappeared from busy streets, crowded places, but nobody saw them go."

She bit her lip and squeezed her temples. "Come on, think! Who do we trust, even though we don't know them? Who passes unnoticed wherever they go? Who hunts in the middle of a crowd?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Who?"

She shrugged back. "I don't have the slightest idea," she said almost nonchalantly. She suddenly made a sharp turn towards a cafe. "Hungry?"

As we entered the cafe, someone behind the counter seemed to recognize Shirley and pointed to a small table by the window with a reserved sign sitting on it. Shirley thanked him and sat at the table, on the chair that had the best vantage point for watching out the window. I sat in the other seat.

"22 Northumberland Street," Shirley said, removing her coat, her blue eyes locked on the street outside, "Keep your eyes on it."

"Well, he's not just going to ring the doorbell is he?" I commented, "He'd have to be mad."

"He has killed four people," Shirley reminded me.

I didn't really have a response to that and just looked down at the table.

Suddenly, a rather large man approached the table and extended his hand towards Shirley, grinning. "Shirley," he said, shaking her hand, "Anything on the menu. Whatever you want, free."

He handed both of us menus. "On the house for you and for your date."

"Do you want to eat?" Shirley asked me.

Hold on a second. Date? Did he think...? "I'm not her date," I said, not even realizing that Shirley had asked me anything.

"This woman got me off a murder charge," the man with the menus continued, not appearing to have heard me.

"This is Angelo," Shirley explained, looking out the window again, "Three years ago, I successfully proved to Lestrade at the time of a rather vicious triple murder, that Angelo was in a completely different part of town house-breaking."

"She cleared my name," Angelo declared happily.

"I cleared it a bit," Shirley said, "Anything happening opposite?"

"Nope. Nothing." He looked at me again. "If it weren't for this woman, I would have gone to prison."

"You did go to prison," Shirley pointed out.

"I'll get a candle for the table. It's more romantic," Angelo said, walking away.

Really? Romantic? "I'm not her date!" I called after him, annoyed.

"You might as well eat," Shirley said, unfazed by it all, "We might have a long wait."

Angelo suddenly returned and set a (rather pathetic looking, I might add) candle on the table. I pursed my lips in annoyance, but I knew there was no use in protesting against it, so I just thanked him.

Shirley and I sat in silence for a moment as she stared intently out the window watching for... well, who knows exactly what she was looking for. I began to think about my experience with her so far and what it had brought upon me. I remembered being kidnapped. Who was that woman anyways? She had claimed to be Shirley's archenemy and Shirley had basically confirmed it. But that was ridiculous. Who had archenemies, really? I mean, sure Shirley was a bit odd, but she couldn't have had archenemies. Didn't she have friends? A boyfriend? Family? Anything? I was determined to find out.

"People don't have archenemies," I brought up suddenly.

My random comment caught Shirley off guard enough to make her look away from the window for a moment in confusion. "Sorry?"

"In real life," I said, "There are no archenemies in real life. I just doesn't happen."

"Really? Sounds a bit dull," Shirley said, looking out the window again.

"So who did I meet?" I asked.

"So then what do people have in their "real lives"" Shirley asked.

"Friends," I said, "You know, people that they like, people they don't like, boyfriends, girlfriends."

"Right. Like I was saying: Dull."

Now was my chance to find out more about her. "So you don't have a boyfriend?"

"Boyfriend? No. Not really my area."

Not really her... Did she mean...? "Right... Do you have a girlfriend?" I asked, "Which is fine, by the way."

Shirley looked at me again. "I know it's fine."

I nodded. "So you've got a girlfriend?"

"No."

I nodded again, feeling slightly uncomfortable, not really sure what to say now. "OK. So, you're unattached... like I am. Right. Good. Fine."

I looked down at the table again, trailing off. I was suddenly aware though, after a moment, that Shirley was looking at me instead of out the window.

"Look, Jen," she said slowly, "I think that you should know that I consider myself, well, married to my work. And while I'm flattered by your interest, I'm not..."

Whoa, whoa, whoa! I nearly choked on my own saliva. This conversation needed some serious sorting out immediately! "No. No. I'm not asking- no," I interrupted her quickly, "I was only saying, it's all fine."

Shirley had one eyebrow raised, but she looked slightly more relaxed. "Good... Thank you." She looked away and back out the window

Ugh! Why me? Did that really just happen? Why? Why? Why? As I was having an internal spasm, Shirley began to tense up as her eyes locked in on something outside.

"Look across the street," Shirley said, gesturing, "Taxi stopped and nobody's getting in, nobody getting out. Why a taxi? Oh that's clever. Is it clever? Why is it clever?"

"That's him?" I asked, squinting my eyes, trying to see into the cab.

"Don't stare," Shirley said.

"But you're staring," I pointed out.

"We can't both stare," Shirley said, grabbing her coat and getting up.

I got up to follow her, but I did not even notice that I had left my cane behind. I was so caught up in the excitement of the idea that we were heading out to maybe catch a murderer that I forgot all about it. I didn't even notice that I was walking normally, and apparently Shirley didn't notice either because we walked right outside and watched the cab closely.

We could see the man inside look around for a a moment, but then the cab suddenly began to drive away. Shirley immediately took off running after it, nearly avoiding being hit by another car which honked incessantly at her. I followed after her, holding up my hands apologetically to the driver of the car. Shirley suddenly stopped when she realized that she could not catch up with the taxi.

"I've got the cab number," I told her.

"Good for you," she said.

She suddenly put her hands to her head and closed her eyes. "Right turn, one way, roadwork, traffic lights, bus lane, pedestrian crossing, left turn only, traffic lights."

What? Did she like have London memorized or something? I didn't really have time to question it as she took off running in a different direction the the cab had gone. I quickly followed after her. She really had no problem with pushing people out of the way, which I had to apologize for as I followed after her.

Shirley sprinted into a building and up some stairs which led onto the roof. I was amazed that she knew where she was going. It was almost as if she had run it a thousand times. Either that or she had a GPS in her head.

Shirley suddenly leapt from one rooftop to the next with enormous ease. As I reached the edge and looked at how large the gap was, I stopped. I had done gymnastics before and was used to making leaps, but this one looked a little bit large and I was a little nervous that I wouldn't be able to make it.

"Come on, Jen! We're losing him!" Shirley called.

I was a bit put off that Shirley could perform such a feat in a pencil skirt and heeled ankle boots, and I was hesitating in my jeans and trainers. So I plucked up my courage and leapt out over the gap. I made it safely and proceeded to run after Shirley.

We made our way down off the rooftop and back to the streets. I saw the cab drive past just as we reached the street again. Shirley grumbled as it did, but continued running.

"This way," she told me.

But I was so caught up in my own momentum that I went in the entirely wrong direction.

"No, this way!" Shirley yelled at me.

"Sorry!" I said, quickly switching my direction and following her.

We ran down several more streets, Shirley turning random corners, still surprising me that she kew where to go. Finally, Shirley leapt out of the ally way we were running down into the street, right into the path of the cab we were pursuing, stopping it in its tracks.

Completely out of breath, she half stumbled to the passenger door. "Police! Open her up!" she cried.

She opened the door and looked at the man sitting in the back. After taking one look at him, she sighed in annoyance. "No," she said, "Teeth, tan. What, Californian? LA, Santa Monica. Just arrived."

"How could you possibly know that?" I asked, also completely out of breath.

"The luggage," Shirley said, pointing to suitcase at the confused man's feet, with a tag stuck on it. She turned to him again. "This is probably your first trip to London, right? Judging by your final destination and the route the cabbie was taking you."

"Sorry, are you the police?" the man asked in an American accent.

"Yeah," Shirley said, holding up a card for a moment, "Everything OK?"

The man smiled for a moment. "Yeah."

Shirley paused, then said, "Welcome to London."

I felt like I had to say something as well. "Uh, any problems, just let us know," I said.

Then I shut the door and the cab drove off.

"So it was pretty much just a cab that happened to slow down," I said to Shirley.

"Pretty much," Shirley agreed.

"Not the murderer."

"No, not the murderer."

I suddenly remembered the card that Shirley had briefly shown the man in the cab and saw that she still had it in her hand. "What is that? Where did you get this?" I asked, taking it from her.

It was a police ID card for Lestrade. A picture of the ponytail-wearing, firm jawed, sullen-faced detective inspector was on it, but I suspected that Shirley had managed to cover it when she showed it to the man.

"Detective Inspector Lestrade?" I asked, wondering how on earth she had managed to obtain the card.

"Yeah. I pick-pocket her when she's annoying," Shirley said, "You can keep that one. I've got plenty at the flat."

It was then that the ridiculousness of the entire situation dawned on me and I began to giggle. The chasing the cab, jumping over rooftops, scaring a random American, pick-pocketing a police officer. Shirley looked at me, confused.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," I said, still smirking, "Just "welcome to London"."

Shirley smiled in return. We both noticed the man from the cab talking to a police officer not too far off and pointing in our direction. We would probably have to get out of there soon.

"You got your breath back?" Shirley asked.

"Ready when you are," I replied.

With that, we took off running once more.