OMG I've not updating in like forever! But I can honestly say I've not been idle during this time. I've worked out a few kinks in my plot and done some more serial killer research (thank you Strampunk!) and even managed to make time to go trekking for a fornight with my dad. Annnnnnnnd when we were wading through snow somewhere over 3000m above sea level I had the most TERRIFIC plot bunny which has been subtlely included in this chapter but will become more obvious later on. The worst part was that I had to hold onto the bunny very tightly untill we'd reached a lower altitude and I could defrost the ink in my pen!

I've also been doing some reasearch as to where slash came from. Apparently people first started writing fanfiction with homosexuality in them during the 1970's. most of them were about two guys from star trek called Kirk and Spock (Spork!) It might be hard to imagine if you've only seen the 2009 movie but trust me; if you've seen the original tv series it is very, very, very, VERY obvious, expecially once you learn where certain alian species' "tender spots" are located )

So continuing from where we left off...

"Misto, could you tell Jenny and Skimble that I said hi? I need to head out again."

"Alright, but don't you want something to eat before you?" My stomach thought wistfully of the casserole that Jenny probably had going in the oven right at this moment. The beef vindaloo had been five hours, one murder ago and I was hungry.

"Maybe just a sandwich made with some leftovers?" I suggested, trying (and failing) to not look too pathetically starved.

"I think the only leftovers we have is the chicken from last night, are chicken and cheese sandwiches okay?"

'SCORE!'

"That would be great thanks Misto."

Ten minutes later I was driving down the street fully equipped with a brown paper bag of chicken and cheese sandwiches at my side and a thermos of hot coffee in the cup holder. Misto had guessed that my day had been long one and had smuggled it in before I could protest. Sneaky little devil…

I drove down familiar streets that made up my route back to the yard passing a road that had been blocked off by police tape. Behind the barrier was a badly dented car that had obviously been the victim of a driver's misconception that a lack of traffic lights meant that give way rules no longer had to be obeyed. The driver in question was sitting inside an ambulance wearing an orange blanket and a sulky expression. Hunched over and talking on his mobile he looked no more than thirty at most. Guess he'd have to learn one day that cars aren't expendable.

Hang on…

When I was thirty I'd been married for nine years. I had an eight year old and a six year old to chauffer between play dates, school, birthday parties, dentist appointments and countless other journeys. And in all those years since I'd had kids I don't think I'd ever gotten so much as a booking ticket I was so pedantic about driving. Right after Victoria was born I went through a stage where I wouldn't drive above 40km/hr. and even now I get worried if one of the gang chooses to sit in the passenger's seat next to me instead of in the back. I guess being a parent does that to you. Once you walk out of the maternity ward that's it, your life isn't your own any more. Whether it be what you buy at the supermarket, what station you listen to on the radio or who you date; you can never leave them out of the equation.

But then again, when Griddlebone had left us she'd done just that.

Maybe I should just leave the theorizing to the shrinks.

Once I got back to the yard I found Pouncival and Pepper on what looked like their third can of root beer and second maxi cup of KFC's popcorn chicken. They hadn't caught sight of me yet and we doodling on the whiteboard and laughing over what looked like a series of sketches of stick figures wearing police hats.

"So you see Clueless doesn't know who to ask so we offer up Hopeless along with a bottle of jack and vola! Mission accomplished!" Pounce was snickering as he scribbled a label next to a stick figure that was missing a tail.

"And before you know it they'll be in the back of the paddy wagon with shackles and hidden cameras pointed their way. I like it!" Pepper giggled.

"Like I said, it's foolproof!" Declared Pounce as he puffed out his chest with the admiration.

"is that an arrest plan that you're working on?" I asked them.

They both jumped a foot in the air at my inquiry. Markers and empty cans went flying as they scrambled upright trying to look like they'd been at least semi-productive since I'd been away.

"H-Hi Munkustrap" stammered Pounce. "You're back early."

"an observation of the obvious," I remarked unwilling to let them off the hook just yet. "And how is the investigation going? Have you found any new leads? Made copies of the portrait?"

Pepper and Pounce looked guiltily at each other, then at the floor, then belatedly realizing how unprofessional this was stared very hard at the door behind me.

"No new leads were uncovered sir" Pepper answered at length "we… haven't gotten round to making copies of the portrait yet."

"Oh and why is that?" My voice had dropped to a lower, more dangerous tone that caused Pepper to shrink back a little.

Pouncival, unaware of the smoke coming out of my ears blurted out before thinking "because there's no point! Portrait sketches are even than CCTV as far as identification goes. We've got a gun we cannot trace. We won't even have the fucking fingerprints till tomorrow. What's the point of going on when we've got nothing to go on with?"

Pepper nodded mutely in agreement.

My fuse that'd been steadily shortening all day finally snapped.

"What's the point? What's the goddam POINT?" I half yelled out. Turning around I marched over towards my desk, grabbed a photo of Felicity Hays's mutilated body and held it within ten inches away from their faces. As expected they cringed away from the gruesome sight.

"This is the point" I told them. "the point is that until we capture this guy, he's going to continue doing this-" again I brandished the photo, "To young girls until we capture him, lock him up, and swallow the key. Do you really want a guy like that walking the streets at night? And there I was hoping that you two would want to lock him away as badly as I do."

There was an extended silence.

"I… sorry sir" Pepper murmured finally

Pounce's ears twitched uncomfortably, after a moment's hesitation he reached up and I laid the photo in his outstretched paw. He and Pepper studied it in silence.

"We'll get right on it" Pounce said at last. He and Pepper returned quietly to their desks.

A few seconds later Pepper headed out to the photocopier with the hand drawn portrait whilst Pounce started re-reading the autopsy reports.

Sometime later when I'd finished the last of my coffee the lab delivered to me the ballistics report from Hay's Murder. It confirmed what we already knew. The bullet was the same diameter at the entrance wounds into both Hays and Maclaby. The gun had it been fored from was made for the USofA army and had been lost nearly three years ago. Not it had turned up and was being used to kill innocents on the streets. We really needed to know who'd brought the gun to Britain and fast. There was an idea I'd been toying with on how to find it, but it would be tricky, I'd have to play my cards just right. Plus I'd need help from someone who was as much a professional as a British businessman, but with even less ethical boundaries. Lucky for me I had just the right person on my speed dial.

It only took a moment to place the call and less than eight rings for the phone to be answered with "What's up Munkus?"

"Hey Cori, do you happen to know where Fat Al's being kept?"

"Well if it ain't the chief's son 'imself comin to pay respects. To whom do I owe the honor?" Sneered Fat Al as he was brought into the private interview booth the prison reserved for police.

"Sit" I gestured to the chair that I'd deliberately moved from the other side of the table to within half a meter from my own. Fat Al sat down and I pretended to ignore the ominous groan that came from the chair as his gluttonous backside made contact with its surface.

"Ahem. Before this interview commences I would like to remind you that Mr. Delgado has the right to press charges if any harassment, whether it be physical, verbal, sexual or…"

"I wouldn't worry bout that one Smith" Grinned Fat Al as he informed his lawyer of my past marital issues. "This one's too prissy to go behind his wife, even when 'is wife ain't there anymore." He shot me a condescending smirk.

"Yes sir. Furthermore I wish to endorse that this interview is not and shall not be recorded in anyway, this includes taking notes, voice recorders, mobile phones etc. without the explicit consent of my client. Furthermore…"

"We get it Smith," said Fat Al bored with asserting his power over me for the time being. "Whataya wanna know? I've already tol' your buddies that I'm not guilty."

"That will be a matter for the jury to decide," I informed him "I have no interest whatsoever in your latest drug charge."

"Then I must protest that…" Fat Al's lawyer of dubious alliance began but the drug dealer waved him silent again. Fat Al then waited for me to continue, looking as content as if he was sitting down in his own living room. And in many ways he was doing just that. With his completely corrupted but murderously effective lawyer in the room there was little to do that would be considered as "trespassing" on his rights. Point to Fat Al.

"I have no interest in your so called "recreation stock trade" I repeated. "I am however, very interested in this…" I pulled out a diagram of the gun that we were looking for and placed in on the table "Do you recognize it?"

Fat Al peered at the diagram and gave a shrug "Looks like a gun to me, and a pretty nice one at that."

"How can you tell that it's nice?"

"Jesus does a guy av' to be a policeman to av' an interest in guns and not be accused of criminality?" He asked palms spread wide in mock innocence.

"Only if he's a recreational stock merchant," I retorted silently. Out loud I said, "An interest in guns we've found does tend to indicate an interest in life and death, or rather, the regulation of it. Wouldn't you say Mr. Delgado?"

Point to Munkus.

Fat Al's piggy eyes opened wide in surprise and anger, then narrowed with suspicion. Unfortunately for me the cat wasn't stupid; he'd been in the game long enough to recognize a trap when he say one. Point to Fat Al.

A moment later he was grinning hugely, almost amused. "You think I'm the one who's been shootin them birds don't you?" he asked. "Well let me tell you now, my alibi's water tight. I've been here for the past twenty four hours waitin for my bail like a good kid. I'm not the guy you're after."

"I never said you were related to those murderers, at least not directly so."

Fat At scratched his nose. "I dunno what you're talkin about,"

"We have certain references that suggest you've either deliberately or accidentally supplied American army handguns to citizens in London, the same type that is being used to murder those 'birds' as you call them. But I want to hear what you have to say Mr. Delgado." I leant forward and could barely contain my grin when Fat Al scooted his chair back. Okay so we didn't have any "references" per say. But he didn't know that. Point to Munkus.

"So what is it Fat Al? did you feel pissed cause you couldn't get some bitch in your bed? Did you have a 'friend' who was short of a few bob who'd be willing to do some odd jobs for ya? Or maybe the guy was doing the job for his own satisfaction. Didn't you ask questions when he came asking for your help? Of course you didn't you fat bastard. And you turned a blind eye when you read about the death of those women in the newspapers. You might be a murderer Fat Al, but you're…"

"I did not kill those women!" Fat Al roared as he sprang out of his seat. "I didn't give nobody a gun to kill those hussies you…"

"My client does not wish to continue this," Mr. Smith butted in before he'd be forced to find some lawful reason for his client to knock me down. "He requests that you leave the premises."

And with that, just as the interview was getting interesting I was forced to walk out before I'd gotten any definite information. Point to Fat Al.

Cori was waiting for me outside the prison, leaning carelessly against his car with a cigarette in his hand.

"You know those are bad for you right?" I gestured towards the fag he was holding.

"When in underworld, do as underworlder does," Cori shrugged. "How did the Q&A go?"

"He denied killing the women. His alibi was that he was in his cell at the time."

"Well we never suspected him in the first place."

"True, but he also denied having any links to the murderer, and his lawyer threatened charges if I so much as sniffed in that general direction."

"That's very bad for us."

"He also got defensive when I questioned his innocence, scratched his nose when he said he didn't know what I was talking about, and even scooted away from me when I mentioned the handguns." Point to Munkus.

Even in the semi-darkness I could see the glint of Cori's teeth as he grinned, "Sounds like somebody's nose grew a foot or two tonight."

"So you think my idea's worth it?"

Cori set aside personal glee for the moment and considered the matter.

"I mean he did deny that he had any connection to the murders, and all that we've got to go on is a nose scratch and the fact that he has the capacity to bring a gun to London; but personally I think it's worth a shot."

"So you're going to try?" Cori asked hopefully.

"If you come with me," I nodded. "I'll be needing someone with breaking and entering experience."

Cori whooped loudly and punched the air causing a few passersby to stare at us strangely but he gave them no mind, he was too excited. "Do you know how long it's been since I've gotten to trash something? When do we start, can we start tonight? What about the cars can I wreck 'em too?"

"No we'll start tomorrow," I answered his second question.

Cori's face fell. "Why?"

"Because I've got to pick my daughter up from the movies and meet the kid she's dating."

"Can't we just whack him out with a baseball bat and get it over with?"

"…No"

"Why?" Cori was almost whining now.

I gave him a long serious look. "Because whacking your daughter's date out with a baseball bat isn't conducive for inter-familial peace and harmony."

Cori stared at me as if I was crazy.

I ran a tired hand through my head fur "It's a thing they teach you at daddy school okay?"

... Point to Munkus!

R & R if you feel so disposed

P.S dear CrazyIndigoChild, I'm not updating another word untill a new chapter's been added to 'Where Loyalty Lies.' Having Quaxo save his fish was hilarious/adorable but now I was more! luv Felixfeles (who's as greedy as Bustopher when it comes to your fic!)

P.P.S somebody just recently told me that Felix is a boy's name and expressed concern that I was gender confused. Please note o' concerned person that I'm very certain that I'm a girl I simply had no idea that Felix was a gender specific name (faceplam!) I chose it because it creates nice aliteration with feles and in latin it means 'lucky'. I'm a Lucky Cat!