Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of CSI:NY. I'm just borrowing them.
Disclaimer 2: I don't promise to put them back in one piece.

Chapter 10

Thursday morning dawns gray. I stand outside shivering as Mac Taylor and his boys haul Shane Casey away. He's clammed up good, hasn't said a word since he said he wasn't sayin' another word. Danny is outside with me. "So whaddya think, Flack?" he asks me. "Think Bedford's in the wind? That we got on to him and he's gonna run?"

"I don't know," I shrug helplessly. It's not a feelin' I like. "I don't know why he killed his father. I know he killed Dean Truby. But I can't prove he killed his father."

"What are you gonna do?"

I shake my head. "I don't know man. I just don't know." It's five a.m. and all I really want to do is go home and go to bed. But I know that nightmares are waiting if I do that, and I don't want that either.

I see a truck with a caged box come rolling up. Dr. Sheldon Hawkes pops out of the driver's seat. Inside the truck, I hear a loud roar. "Looks like someone's up early," I note as Hawkes comes over to us.

"Sheba doesn't do mornings," Hawkes explains. "But she's one of the main attractions in the parade todya, and her adoring fans are waiting." He looks at Danny and I, and the doctor takes over. "You guys look like death warmed over. You okay?"

"Peachy," I grind out. Then I think of something. "Where's your lovely assistant this morning?"

"Oh, I expect she'll be along shortly," he says with a wink. "I'll see you boys later." He leaves us to go talk to the two men who have ridden in on the giant Belgian horses from the zoo.

"You know, Danny, I don't really feel much like celebratin' right now," I tell him as I watch Jo Danville start lining up her parade.

"Me either," he says. "How 'bout a beer back at your office?"

"Best idea I've heard all morning."

He grins. "It's early yet."

Danny offers to drive back to the office. I'm deep in thought in the passenger seat. This doesn't feel finished to me. Drew Bedford is a cocky little bastard, and he isn't just going to turn tail and run. But I can't figure out where he's goin' with this whole thing.

"So Lindsay tells me her grandpa wants to sit down with me and 'talk'," Danny is saying, and I shake my head to clear my head so I can pay attention to him. "Guess he thinks he's well enough to be let out of the hospital later today."

"Maybe he's gonna snuff ya," I suggest, and Danny sighs. "Yeah, or that."

"The old man's stubborn. I found out from Lindsay that if he ever kicks the bucket, she gets everythin'. So he's never gonna die. 'Cause if Lindsay gets everything, that means some of it is mine." He chuckles. "Hell, that's a lot of money. Then I would have a million bucks, and Lindsay would have two mil and a penthouse and a newspaper empire and-"

Flack, you're so stupid! "Stop the car!" I bark at Danny. I musta scared him, because he slams on the brakes, nearly sending the both of us through the windshield. "God damn, it's been starin' at me the whole damn time."

"What?" Danny asks, confused.

I smack my forehead, annoyed at how stupid I've been. "I kept lookin' in the wrong places. I didn't look at what was right in front of me!" I hit the dash with an open hand. "Sonofabitch!"

"Care to share with the rest of the class?" Danny asks me, thoroughly lost.

I look at him. "Danny. You just solved this case!"

"I did?" He grins. "Does this mean I get your office?"

"Shut up, Danny. Turn the car around. We have to go talk to Sid Hammerback."

"Why?"

"Think about it, Messer. Drew Bedford kills his father to make it look like an accident. If Andrew Bedford keels over, I bet money that Junior gets everything."

Danny flips the car around and we head back downtown to Hammerback's office. Danny barely has the car in park before I scramble out the door. I almost hit an old lady with a poodle on my way into the building. I hear the dog yelp, and she starts givin' Danny an earful. I ignore the "You can't go in there!" order from Hammerback's secretary, Peyton Driscoll, and burst into his office.

He's at his desk, and jumps six feet in the air. "What is the meaning of-Flack?" he asks, peering over his glasses. "What's going on?"

"Did your office handle the Bedford will?" I ask him.

Realization dawns. "I think Langston was Andrew's lawyer. Let me go see if I can pull a copy."

I impatiently pace, waiting for him to get back. When he returns, I have to fight my urge to yank the file from his hand. He sits down and start meticulously flipping through the contents of Andrew Bedford's last will and testament.

"Just tell me the fine print, Sid," I say. "If Bedford kicked the bucket accidentally, did Junior get everything?"

"The conditions stipulate that in the case of accidental death, the estate actually reverts to-" He looks at me. "Colleen Bedford."

"And if Colleen died?"

Sid checks the file, but I already know the answer before he says it, "Drew Bedford gets everything, doesn't he?" I ask, and the DA nods. "Thanks Sid!" I say, before running from his office, past a furious Peyton Driscoll, back down the stairs to where Danny is waiting in the lobby. I relay what I've learned, and Danny nods. "I always knew it was that little rat fink."

"We have to find Mrs. Bedford," I tell him. "She's next."