A/N: Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No it's a new chapter.

There's just something I don't like about this chapter … it's more of a set up chapter for the final leg of this story.

Concerning further updates, they shouldn't be to far away since I have "only" 4 weeks left of class and 3-4 weeks of exams left when I go back to University on Monday, so technically and hopefully by mid June I will have all the free time in the world. And this story will turn one, oh my god.

Sorry in advance to India Wilkes haters, she was a bitch, but I can't help but feel really sorry for her …

Thanks to everyone who reads this story, especially to those who take the time to review and a special thanks to Iris who nudged me in a review to get my act together and get on with this story.

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Ever since her brother Ashley had died, India Wilkes had been seeing a man in secret.

They would meet every couple of days in a discreet location not very far away from Aunt Pitty's home while the elderly woman was having a nap.

She did not want the whole of Atlanta to find out about what she had been up to and India did not want to risk being Mrs Elsing and Mrs Merriwether's new favourite topic for conversation; she had no desire to become the next Scarlett O'Hara, or whatever surname she was going by these days, she thought.

She just wanted the job done.

These clandestine rendezvous' were far from resembling any ordinary meeting between a man and a woman, they involved neither courtship nor even friendship –they were strictly business transactions.

Her companion –Fox hadn't been in this line of work for very long, but he had still managed to make a pretty good name for himself over the course of that short time.

India Wilkes had found out about him and his area of expertise in the most peculiar ways.

One day, she had been desperately flicking through pages of a dusty old novel, about an incredibly naïve man, who travelled the world, believing everything was at its best in the best of all possible worlds, despite all the atrocious things he went through during his journey, ironically enough, it had been Ashley who had suggested it to her, and she had never got round to picking it up until now.

She was trying to keep her mind from thinking about Ashley's murder, because every time she allowed her thoughts to wander, it wasn't grief which took over her body and her soul, but her blood would start boiling. She was absolutely enraged by the way the authorities were handling the investigation –or lack thereof.

Unfortunately she was unable to focus on anything long enough to actually take it in, she would read the same paragraph over and over again, at each time she would reach the end, she had forgotten how it had begun. She casually tossed the book aside and accidentally knocked over an ink bottle that had been sitting on the table. As the deep blue ink slowly spread across the floor soaking through the rug to the wooden floor underneath it, Aunt Pitty cried out, "Oh no, India! The ink! And I needed to write a letter …"

"Don't be so dramatic aunt Pitty, there is more ink in the cabinet for your letter," India sighed as she stood up and walked over to the cabinet, "I guess that I was wrong, that was our last bottle."

"Oh my, Oh my!" Aunt Pitty said as she started hyperventilating.

"For goodness sake Aunt Pitty, get a hold of yourself, we can get more tomorrow," India reasoned.

"But I have to write my letter today!" Aunt Pitty stated in a high pitched voice.

"Nonsense, tomorrow will do just as fine, there is no rush."

"But … but," Pitty Pat started getting flustered. "I think I might faint."

India rolled her eyes at the old woman and decided that it would be easier just to go along with her rather than start an argument, "Alright then, I'll go to the store an buy some ink."

"That's very well. I will go upstairs for a nap while you are away," she said recovering rather quickly from her near to fainting spell.

India entered the Kennedy Store anxiously; she was not in the mood to come face to face with Scarlett O'Hara. That woman threw herself at her brother all his life, had stolen both her and her sister's beau, and had the most scandalous lifestyle. She sighed in relief when she remembered that Scarlett would not be in the store as she was attending to Melly.

India had been absolutely outraged by the fact that Melanie Wilkes had preferred Scarlett's help to her own, after all she was Ashley's sister it was only natural that they would go through the mourning process together. It was not just that, India could just get her head around the fact that Melly preferred Scarlett's assistance with her grief to her own, it was unthinkable. India could not begin to comprehend how Melanie could even stand to be in the same room as Scarlett after everything she had done.

India Wilkes deeply and truly hated Scarlett O'Hara. It was odd since they had been rather good companions when they were young girls, long before dresses, bows and beaux had mattered. The event that had precipitated the demise of their friendship had been India's mother's death, which had propelled the young girl into the role of being the mistress of plantation.

During the long summer days, when she had to make sure everything was in order in the house, she would longingly glance out the window, and see her siblings, Scarlett, her sisters and other children from the county amusing each other while she was stuck inside. It was then that the bitterness had started to brew in her; Scarlett O'Hara always appeared to be having the most fun out of all the other youngsters, which was why she became the main target of India's envy, which would only worsen with time.

After all the years and everything that had happened, their relationship would never ever recover.

India quickly went to the place where the ink bottle usually were, the shelf was empty, so she went up to the front desk to get some assistance.

"Willy," she asked politely. "You wouldn't happen to have any extra ink bottles in the back, would you?'

"Why Miss Wilkes, I'm not sure. You wait here, while I go check," he said.

She nodded as he turned around and scampered off into the storage room.

India Wilkes was many things, but patient, she was not, she stood there, half leaning against the counter, she started taping her fingers against it in rhythm like she would on a piano. She sighed heavily and peered around the shop, the only other customers were a group of middle aged women, scoffing in a corner, damn Yankees, India thought. They were engrossed in what appeared to be an extremely interesting conversation, "… sssh, you shouldn't speak so loud, someone might hear us," the redhead pleaded.

"Well if they don't like what they hear, it's their own problem, they shouldn't be listening to other people's business, should they?" the bossy brunette stated. "So as I was saying, my sister Harriet, who lives in Boston, was telling me that Virginia Pollack, do you remember her?"

"Wasn't she the pretty girl from …?" asked the third woman.

"No that was her sister, Teresa, this one was ugly, Mother Nature certainly slapped her several times with the ugly shovel, she had an enormous nose, puffy cheeks and those ridiculously small beady eyes," the brunette cut in. "Well, anyway, Harriet was telling me that after her husband was brutally assassinated, when he was going home one night, it was this infamous, Mr Renard who helped her get over the grief."

"Is that the one they're calling the Fox back home?"

"He is indeed, he's French and as sly as anything. In less than two weeks he had Harriet's husband's killer behind bars, apparently it was a crime of passion, Harriet's husband was sustaining a very unorthodox relationship with his sister in law, and when her husband found out, he stabbed him to death," the brunette said as the other two women stared at her, their eyes as big as saucers.

Every single one of India's worries vanished as an idea began to germinate in her mind. She would wire this Fox or Renard person and get him to solve the mystery of Ashley's murder, only once the perpetrator was behind bars, would she be able to mourn properly and get on with her life.

As soon as Willy handed her the bottle and she had paid for it -there was no way in hell she would allow herself to be in debt to Scarlett O'Hara, she got Uncle Peter to drive her down to the station sent Mr Renard a telegram requesting his assistance in solving the mystery surrounding her brother's assassination.

His response was prompt and quick in coming and in no time they had arranged their first meeting.

On the day they had agreed to meet for the first time, the weather was wet and bitter, just as was India's mood. She had been pacing up and down the alley, where they were supposed to meet, for what seemed like an eternity. In her haste, as she was sneaking out the house during Aunt Pitty Pat's naptime, she had forgotten to take anything to protect herself from the rain, so much so that she was soon soaking from head to toe.

She was just about to give up and go home when the rain started to clear up, and she saw two figures appear at the other end of the alley. The two men who were now walking in her direction couldn't have been more at the antipodes from one another physically.

There was a tall one with broad shoulders who walked with pride in his every step, the other one, on the other hand, was short and scrawny and had to take two steps to keep up with every single one of his companion's long strides, so much so it looked as if he was running.

"Mrs Wilkes, I presume," the tall one said, in a distinct foreign accent, as he extended a gloved hand and offered a dashing smile and a flash of his sparkly white teeth. "Victor Renard, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Three words immediately popped into India's mind: pompous, pretentious and self absorbed, anymore and he would be kissing my hand, sniggered India internally as she retrieved her hand from his. "Miss Wilkes," she quickly corrected his mistake. "I thought we were supposed to be meeting in private," she added looking at the Fox's short companion.

"This is Raymond Martin, he works with me and is more than an essential ingredient to my recent success," he said smugly emphasising on the word 'success'. "I have known him all my life, no need to fear that he will reveal your secrets to the entire world, he's a loyal man, very trustworthy, and more importantly he doesn't speak a word of English."

India had to muster up every single ounce of self control in her body to prevent herself from sighing too heavily or rolling her eyes. She did not like this man and she doubted she ever would.

He cleared his throat and began, "So your brother has been murdered, and you need my assistance in putting his assassin behind bars …"

"Yes, well, you see," she cut in. "The police have not really being doing their job, they seem to be stuck in a dead end, they have no leads whatsoever and their investigations seems to be going nowhere, and I heard about what you did for that woman in Boston, and how quick you did it, so …"

"And how do you expect to pay for my services," he said flatly staring down at her worn black dress.

"I …" she stumbled as her cheeks turned a light shade of pink. She was embarrassed, before the war she had never had to worry about trivialities, such as money, but ever since her father had died, she had been confronted with a dilemma between what she wanted, what she needed and what she could afford, and a fancy private investigator was certainly not something she could afford.

"I don't take payment in nature, just in case you were wondering," he said slyly as he watched India's cheeks turn and even brighter shade of red. "Or did you think I would pity the spoilt Southern Princess turned poor by the mishaps of war and offer my services pro bono?"

The heat in her cheeks was becoming intolerable, and for a moment she was more than tempted to reach over and slap the man in the face before stomping off angrily to Aunt Pitty's, but no, she had to do go through with this, for Ashley, for herself. "You are not very polite, sir," was all she could manage.

"I don't need to be, I'm French, therefore I'm naturally charming," he laughed, arrogance oozing out of every single one of his words, India was unable to stop the nervous laugh which escaped from her lips.

"I'm taking the case," he then suddenly stated.

"You do know that I can't afford your regular fee?" she asked stunned.

"Just pay me whatever you can," he said, before adding, sure of himself. "I'll make up for the rest in good publicity of my work in the South after I solve this mystery in a record time. Now I'm going to need you to tell me everything you know about your brother and his murder …"

She conscientiously filled Fox in with every single detail that she thought would be relevant to Ashley's killing, "So this Scarlett O'Hara person has been chasing after you brother for some time now?"

"Scarlett Butler, she married now, and yes, she has been pursuing him ever since we were children, and she is the kind who would stop at no costs to get what she wants," India said.

"I see, well Miss Wilkes, I believe I have enough information to get started, if I need anything else I will be in touch with you, and I will keep you informed of the evolution of things."

As India's silhouette faded into the distance, Fox nudged Raymond who had stayed quiet during the whole meeting, "Tu vois, je t'avais bien dis que venir ici était une bonne idée, ça promet d'être encore plus intéressant que ce j'avais initialement pensé."*

TBC

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*"You see, I had told you that coming here was a good idea, and it looks as if it's going to turn out to be even more interesting than I initially thought"