As always, thank you all for the reviews and support! Lainey, I agree with you - it would be great to see PD in a darker, sexy kind of character like this - change it up from the romcom stuff he's been doing.

I'm glad you all enjoyed the steamy encounter, but you know it's not going to be the same in every chapter! Sometimes it just doesn't work for the update, and I hope you enjoy it just the same.

Chapter Seven
Complications Arise

"It's a beautiful day out there everyone! The sun is shining for a change, so let's get out there and enjoy it while it lasts!"

The cheerful voice of the radio DJ made Derek scowl as he drove through the traffic. With a flick of his wrist, he shut the radio off, preferring the silence instead. It was sunny in Seattle, on this, the day of Gareth's funeral. It didn't suit Derek's mood, either, but he had to admit that Gareth would approve. He had always hated the rain, so maybe it was fitting that the sun had come out.

Pulling into the small parking lot next to the funeral chapel, Derek was surprised to see a few cars already there. He hadn't really expected too many people, but then, maybe some of them were reporters. Sure enough, he recognized a couple from the evening news, and he groaned inwardly. At least they would be kept outside, but it wouldn't be as easy to avoid them at the graveside. Maybe he could ask Hunt to keep them back, might as well make the man useful, after all.

He straightened his tie, and walked briskly towards the building. Along the way, he brushed aside their questions, something he was getting adept at doing. It was hard to believe not that long ago he would have welcomed the attention, hoping to bring more customers to Ravish, but not in this situation. He was just about to pull the door open, when he spotted Meredith standing off to the side. "Of course, you're here too," he said quietly. It was the first time he'd seen her since their steamy encounter, and his pulse jumped a bit in response. This time she was dressed more conservatively, wearing a simple black sweater and pencil skirt, her hair pulled back from her face. When their eyes met, she gave him a slight nod, but didn't move until he found himself raising his hand towards her.

"Hi," she murmured, coming up beside him. She didn't make any kind of move to indicate they had been intimately involved, but the memory of it flared between them unspoken just the same.

"I should have realized you'd be here."

Meredith shrugged a little. "Still part of my job. But I understand that getting scrutinized at this time has to be terrible."

"Thanks." Derek was grateful for her understanding, and his mouth tightened as he fought to keep from betraying too much emotion. "Are you coming inside?"

"Oh, hardly. I'm just here to observe, after all. As you and your lawyer made it quite clear, I'm not supposed to write about you and maybe I shouldn't even be in your presence. But then again, we did have intimate relations, even if we don't trust each other." Meredith smiled briefly. "Still not going to confide your secrets to me?"

Derek touched her arm. "Not really, Ms Grey."

"Back to formality, are we?" Her eyebrows went up a little. "Considering everything we did together, and where you had your mouth..."

"Don't..." he warned her, his eyes glittering in remembrance. He glanced towards the interior of the chapel, where the funeral director was waiting, along with the minister. "Can I ask a favor?"

"Now you want a favor, Mr. Shepherd?"

"Humor me. If you see anyone here that looks out of place, just let me know later?"

"Out of place how?"

"Just use your reporter's instinct, I'm sure you can do that."

Meredith looked around them before meeting his eyes again. "Okay, sure. But you sound kind of paranoid. Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"Not if I don't have to."

"Fine, but you owe me, honey…" she murmured, reaching up to adjust his already pristine jacket lapels. The thought of him naked and urgent over top of her came to her thoughts, and she flushed. The dark look in his eyes told her that he was thinking of their passionate encounter as well, but he managed to step back to focus on the current situation.

"I never forget a debt…honey…" he replied quietly, before turning away to walk inside.

After the brief service, where Derek had spoken a few words to the small group of mourners, the casket was moved outside. As he followed along, it felt almost surreal, reminding him of his mother's funeral, and he blinked quickly to take away the sting of tears. He had learned a long time ago not to show too much emotion, to keep all those thoughts locked up tightly so as not to interfere with his work. This was another of those thoughts to shut away, and he managed to pull himself together. Outside, the reporters had been kept at a distance by the police officers, and he nodded towards Det. Hunt in acknowledgement.

It was a short distance to the graveside, and he looked around more closely at the people who had joined him. Addison was there, and she gave him a reassuring smile. Several of the staff from Ravish had come out in support, along with other business acquaintances. There were a couple of men he didn't recognize, and he studied them carefully for a moment, realizing that Hunt was scrutinizing them as well. He really didn't know Gareth's friends, so it was possible they were just there to pay their respects. Some of the women he'd been involved with were there, including Anya. He realized with a start that he'd not spoken with her since Gareth's death, and completely forgotten about her when Meredith had shown up at his restaurant. She joined him, and he acknowledged her presence with a slight nod, taking her hand.

"Thank you for being here," he murmured. "We need to talk later."

"I understand, darling. You've been preoccupied." She kissed his cheek, and he was overcome with the cloying scent of her perfume.

Then he caught sight of Meredith in the crush of reporters behind the officers, giving the two of them an appraising look. As if this wasn't bad enough, he thought, pulling away from Anya. A funeral wasn't supposed to be this complicated.

He realized then that there was another woman that hovered at the periphery of the mourners, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. He didn't recognize her, but she seemed genuinely distraught, staring at the casket. Taking the opportunity to excuse himself from Anya, he approached her. "Excuse me, but were you a friend of Gareth's?" he asked.

For a second, she didn't respond, gathering herself. "Yes, we were involved. Didn't he tell you about me?"

Derek looked at her more closely. She was dark haired, and dark eyed, with a curvy figure that was obvious even in the simple black dress she wore. "I'm sorry, no…you are?"

"Callie Torres. We've been seeing…I mean, we had been seeing each other for a few months now. I can't believe he's dead."

"Why haven't you been in touch with me before this?"

"I didn't feel right about it. But I just couldn't stay away today. I just needed to say good-bye." Tears slid down her cheeks again.

"I'm sorry. I had no idea he had a girlfriend, but then we didn't talk much in the last few months." Derek wondered if she had any idea of Gareth's background, or if maybe she was involved in whatever Gareth had been doing.

She smiled a little. "He talked about you a lot."

Before Derek could respond, Anya claimed him again. "Darling, the minister is asking for you."

"Just give me a minute here," he said, turning to look at Callie again. But she'd hurried away while he was distracted. He saw her disappearing through the gravestones, and he resolved to find out more about her. Obviously Hunt hadn't discovered her either, or he would've said something about it. They needed to have a conversation about that.

"Who was that?"

"Apparently Gareth's girlfriend." Derek pulled his arm away. "We'll talk later, Anya."

Meredith watched Derek pull away from the statuesque woman with hair so perfect she looked like she stepped out of a L'Oreal commercial. It gave her a slight satisfaction, before she looked around at the rest of the group. No one looked out of place, just the usual social and business crowd that Derek would know as the owner of a successful restaurant in Seattle. Then again, some of those men looked rather menacing and she wondered if they had been part of Gareth's money problems. She realized that Det. Hunt was keeping an eye on everything, along with several other officers keeping all of the reporters at bay. She hated funerals, really, this wasn't the place she wanted to be, but it was part of her job. It reminded her too much of family she had lost herself, but she shook off the feeling of melancholy to pay attention to the present moment. Besides the glamorous diva, there were several other females clustered behind Derek. Meredith assumed some of them were ex-girlfriends, but she hadn't made notes on them. None of them looked dangerous, unless you counted the stilettos on their feet. But there was another woman Derek had been speaking to that seemed upset, and hurried away before he could finish the conversation from the looks of it. Meredith frowned, wondering what that was all about.

Then she turned her attention to the minister speaking the last blessing over the casket. Derek had closed his eyes, and she had an urge to go over and try to comfort him, even though she knew that was wrong on so many levels. He seemed almost detached, ye she could see how he clenched his fists, and she wondered again about his guilt or innocence. He was definitely a complicated man, and she couldn't help but be fascinated by him.

From a few yards away, behind a stand of weeping birch trees that spread their branches along the edge of a decorative pond, a figure in black observed the proceedings. "Oh, Derek, you've become such a player, haven't you? All these women surrounding you is isn't exactly what you need to accomplish your task...you need to focus. I need to do something else to get things moving."

Derek took a deep breath as the casket started to lower into the ground. "I'll find out what happened to you, Gareth, I swear," he whispered, once it was completely out of sight. He was aware of Addison at his side, keeping a slight respectful distance. The rest of the people drifted away slowly, and he could hear the light chatter of women's voices as they headed back to their cars. He really had nothing to say to them anyway, and he was grateful they had left him alone.

"Derek, do you want me to wait for you?" Addison inquired softly. "Maybe you shouldn't be alone right now."

"Just give me a moment, would you?" Derek gave her a slight smile. He could see Det. Hunt lingering with some of the plainclothes detectives as well, and he wondered if they had spotted anyone. Then his cell phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out to see the text message notification. It was from Richard, and he scanned it quickly.

I'm sorry I missed the funeral, Derek. My flight was delayed, but I'd like to meet you at your restaurant for a drink, give my condolences.

Derek tapped in a reply that he would be at Ravish within the hour, and he would meet Richard in the lounge. He wasn't aware of Meredith approaching him, until he felt her hand on his arm.

"You holding up all right?" she asked quietly.

His lips twisted briefly, as he slipped the phone back in his pocket. "I'll manage, thanks, I always do. Did you see anyone that looked out of place?"

"Some of those men maybe, but who was that woman you were talking to earlier? The woman with the black hair that took off before the service was over?"

"Gareth's girlfriend, Callie Torres."

Meredith made a note of the girl's name. "I'll check her out. I take it you didn't know her?"

"Complete surprise."

"That other group of women fluttering around you obviously know you. I assume they're your exes? You seem to have good relationships with them."

"They were aware of the way things work, Ms Grey. We always part on good terms," Derek frowned. "But I don't think my romantic relationships should have any bearing on what happened to Gareth. Or are you jealous?"

"Hardly, Mr. Shepherd. As you say, we had nothing serious, right?" Meredith slipped on her sunglasses, and tucked her purse under her arm firmly. "I have to get back to the office."

"Wait, thank you for being here, and for indulging my paranoia," Derek said. "Let me buy you dinner, you said I owed you for this. I do pay my debts."

"Are you going to tell me what's going on if I take you up on that?"

"We'll see, Ms Grey. Can you come by the restaurant tomorrow night?"

"I can do that. Does this invitation include another round of hot sex in your office?" she laughed softly.

He raised his eyebrow. "Dessert is always optional."

A short time later, Derek welcomed Richard into the restaurant, and they settled into a booth in a quiet corner of Ravish's bar. They had a bottle of very old, very smooth Macallan Scotch between them on the table, and their glasses were raised in a toast. "To Gareth..." Derek said quietly.

"Indeed. Far too young to suffer that fate," Richard noted, taking a sip of his drink.

"I was going to call you if you hadn't shown up today."

"I realize we've lost touch, Derek, but when I saw the articles in the paper, I knew I needed to come and pay my respects. Carolyn would have wanted someone to support you." Richard swirled the Scotch in his glass for a moment. "What did you want to speak to me about?"

"Gareth was involved in something when he died, a theft of a rather valuable canvas. He tried to get me involved, but I couldn't jeopardize what I have here. That life is behind me."

"Indeed. That must have been what you were arguing about in that picture that was in the paper," Richard observed, raising one eyebrow.

"Yes. But there was someone else that knew about it, someone that killed Gareth in an attempt to take the painting from him. Gareth had already hidden it and sent me the instructions on where to find it. Now I'm being blackmailed to give it up, or he, or she, will frame me for the murder."

"I see. Do you have any idea who this person is?"

"None. I was thinking that if I could return the painting, I could defuse the situation. But I have no idea who Gareth stole it from either; he didn't share that with me." Derek finished his drink, and poured another one. Richard shook his head as Derek tilted the bottle his direction.

"I'm trying to cut back." Richard leaned back against the seat. "What is the painting? Is it really that valuable?"

Derek nodded. "Oh, it's valuable all right. I'm sure it belongs in a museum, so whoever owned it was likely keeping it secret. I thought you might have some insight on that."

"You think it might have been mine?"

"It crossed my mind," Derek admitted.

"I can assure you, I'm not missing any paintings. What is it? Maybe I've heard gossip about it."

"It's a small Monet," Derek said, telling him about the canvas. "Richard, you always know what's going on in the art world. You know who's buying and selling, who has the lax security and who needs the insurance money. I have to admit, since I started this place, I haven't kept up with any of that."

"You were always the best, Derek. I like what you've done to pull yourself out of that life; this is a great restaurant. I'll do anything I can to help you."

"Thank you." Derek felt some relief at having told Richard about what was going on, but he decided to keep the whereabouts of the painting to himself for the moment. The less people that knew where it was for the moment, the better.

Meredith settled into the comfy cushions of her sofa, kicking her shoes off thankfully. It had been a long day, and she had finished writing a small piece about Gareth's funeral in time for the next day's paper. While they were still not able to write about Derek's situation, the funeral was public interest, and she had kept the focus away from any issue of Derek's guilt or innocence.

She leaned back, and took a welcome swallow of icy cold chardonnay, thinking about his invitation for dinner tomorrow. Obviously she wasn't going there to seduce him this time; it was more of a 'date' than anything else. She smiled a little, letting her thoughts drift. Funerals were always depressing; she'd gone through a bad time herself when her mother died two years ago. Still, at that time it hadn't been a sudden wrenching death, but more of a thankful release after her mother's prolonged illness. Ellis Grey had been a renowned surgeon, at the same hospital where Cristina now worked. Not the greatest mother in the usual sense of the word, but Meredith had managed to grow up well enough despite that. In fact, she felt a little more independent than some of the girls she had grown up with; able to live on her own without depending on someone else, and having a practical outlook on life were a couple things she credited Ellis with. Ellis had never quite understood Meredith's choice of work, but supported her decision if that was truly Meredith's ambition.

There was a sharp rap on the front door, and she sat up quickly, roused out of her thoughts. She padded barefoot to the door, and peeked outside the window, expecting to see someone collecting money for some charity or other, but the small verandah was empty. "Weird," she murmured, about to turn away to make herself something to eat, when she spotted an envelope hanging halfway out of the mailbox. "Even weirder..." she added, opening the door and pulling the envelope out of the box.

In the course of writing for the paper, she'd received anonymous tips from time to time, but they didn't normally show up in her mailbox at home. No one was supposed to have her home address, for that matter. This was a plain envelope with her name typed on the front of it. She hesitated for a moment, and then slid the flap open with her fingernail. Inside was a black and white photo, and she gasped when she realized what it was. It had been taken at the cemetery, of her and Derek, standing close together when they had been speaking alone. "Shit, he wasn't being paranoid," she whispered, turning it over to check the back. There were a few words scrawled in black ink.

You're a smart woman, don't be fooled by his charm. He's not the upstanding citizen he pretends to be. Check into it.

After Richard left, promising to make some discreet inquiries about the owner of the Monet, Derek was about to check on how the dinner crowd was coming along, when his cell phone rang. He grabbed it quickly, thinking maybe Meredith was calling, but it was Det. Hunt again. For a second, he debated whether to answer or not, but decided it wasn't wise to avoid the police. If he had learned anything, it was cooperate with the law to keep them from digging into things too closely.

"Yes?"

"Why didn't you tell me about the life insurance policy, Mr. Shepherd?" Hunt asked, without any pleasantries.

"Excuse me?"

"The policy you took out on Gareth, for $1,000,000.00. Didn't you think I would find out?"

Derek felt his gut tighten at the realization of what Hunt had just said. "I swear, I didn't do that. Why would I?"

"I was hoping you could shed some light on that fact, Shepherd. It's a good motive for murder, don't you think?"

"Yes, but why would I do something so damn obvious?" Derek snapped.

"So someone else took out this policy to set you up? I should just toss this aside and forget about it? My boss wouldn't be too happy with me if I did that, Shepherd."

Derek debated whether or not to confide in Hunt about the blackmail, but at the moment it didn't seem like an option. "Are you going to arrest me on that basis?"

"Much as I'd like to, we're still in the process of collecting evidence. So, you're a free man for now. Just don't leave town, you know the drill."

"Fine. Consider me warned." Derek ran his hand through his hair in irritation. "Look, did you see that girl at the funeral?"

"Which one? You had so many around you," Hunt said dryly.

"The dark haired one, who left in a hurry. She told me she was seeing Gareth, for a couple of months. Maybe she knows something."

"I hadn't turned up anything about a girl before, either your brother was keeping it a secret, or she's lying about it. Let me see what I can find out."

"Thanks. Mer…I mean, Ms Grey, said she would check as well."

"I see, well, maybe I should just compare notes with her then. Leave this to the police, Mr. Shepherd. Your reporter girlfriend could get herself in trouble. Tell her to back off."

"You have no idea how stubborn she is, Hunt. You can tell her to back off," Derek said. "And she's not my girlfriend."

"You seemed quite cozy at the funeral today. Is she getting some exclusive on you?"

"Hardly. She just has a way of showing up."

"Sure, if you say so. I'll be sure to let you know if anything turns up. Or if she finds something, maybe you could call me," Hunt said dryly.