A/N Ok here's the deal. So I was thinking I've got quite a number of stories to tell with this fanfiction thing. I also have stories to finish. Sometimes I try to hold back a story so I can expand on the current ones a little more. It's a precious balance. But I'm getting to the point I can't hold things down anymore. I've got quite a few stories on my plate. I'm aware of that but still I'm planning three (this being one so there's two more) new stories this summer. To those of you who want to see me work on my current stuff I apologize I'll get to them again, the few of you who aren't just going along for Middlewood and A Lot Like Love XD lucky days are here again.

Now for something different. I wanted to do a story like this for a long time. You don't really see a lot of this around the fanfiction world to my knowledge anyway. Bear with me on this one folks, I've got big and very interesting plans for this.

It was a month since I had dropped my last case. I was at home, on the twelfth floor of the biggest apartment building in Go City's north side. Leaning out an open window I enjoyed the cool crisp breeze blowing in from the east. The full, waning moon appeared tipsy as it dragged itself over the horizon. I looked down at the streets; the fall air pulsed with the sounds of the city. The city's buzz came to the ear like a distant murmur, as if the metropolis itself was calling from afar. Sometimes in my more quixotic moments I'd answer her back. But when I took the time to listen, it always seemed like she was talking about me.

"Can I ask you a question Will?"

I turned away from the scene and looked over at the woman sitting up on my bed. Her name was Janice. Her brown hair fell down to her shoulders, just a tad longer than I really liked. Her lips full and red, her cheeks were rosy. She was sitting up and the sheet had fallen away from her chest, and it unfortunately reaffirmed she wasn't up to snuff on curves. It was a shallow, likely misogynistic assessment I agree. But desire is not usually one to be hindered by cultivation. The reality of the situation was, with the risk of again sounding callous and vulgar, I was getting what I wanted but not what I "wanted." All things considered she was a good looking dame as they say.

"I've got nothing against you speaking freely."

"Are you a copper?"

I quickly recalculated my take on her. "I used to be with the D.O.I....How did you know?"

She smiled brightly again. "It's the eyes y'know. I've got heat in my family and they've got the same kind of eyes. I'm fond of those eyes."

It was a bit of a sting to know this "meeting of the minds" wasn't based solely on my handsome face and delightful charm. Instead I had been tagged by my former profession.

"I suppose the eyes do add to my appeal."

"Perhaps" She grinned. "The Go City Police have sexy uniforms."

"Well unfortunately I'm not on the force anymore, and I threw away my old uniform."

She bared her teeth playfully at me and asked, "Why aren't you on the force anymore?"

"I quit…."

"Why?"

"I couldn't stand the hours."

"Seriously?"

"No."

Normally I would brush off any conversation that even hinted at broaching this subject. But it felt appropriate now to keep a congenial manner. There wouldn't be many more moments like this between her and me after tonight. So answering her questions seemed ethically shortsighted but somehow compromising.

"Mistakes were made," I said simply.

"Goof!" She suddenly exclaimed with the judgment of a Delphic oracle.

I was on the cover of the Go City Times twice. The first cover contained an obligatory picture of my father and me, shaking hands in front of the Go City police station. A situation I had wanted no part of but it looked good for the department. Fire and Ice the headlines screamed, it was a cursory allusion to our contrasting personalities. An optimistic article was written up about me, something along the lines of me breathing life into the department. The second cover featured a candid shot of me stepping out of my apartment building. The headline there read "Goof!" and that's all that needed to be said. Two covers, completely different stories. Truly a rise and fall worthy of Euripides.

"You goofed up a case that Kim Possible had to solve."

"I solved the case….as it appeared to me. But things didn't fall in line the way I wanted."

My answer was honest enough. The bottom line was that I had allowed my destiny to be wrested from my grasp. I messed up and the choice given to me by the top brass was I could be bumped down from lead investigator to organizing evidence. And if I played their game, kept my eyes to the ground, got a nice shine of brown on my nose, maybe, maybe in ten years they'd let me see the streets again. Or I could quit.

"Do you hate Kim Possible?"

I thought about it. One of the few things I noticed after the "fallout," was the difficulty in finding people who understood you. What essentially drives me….to clarify…not my motivations or my wants and needs, but the drive itself. Kim Possible can understand that drive that pushes us forward. In that essence she is the same as I. She was the best and worst competitor a person can choose to use as a benchmark. They say though, fierce competition is the whetstone of talent.

"I don't hate, it takes up too much energy. Especially hate geared towards Kim Possible or Ron Stoppable. I've worked with them; solved crimes with them when our paths crossed. Maybe at one time I was strongly "not fond" of them. But the past is a communist nation lady; they do things so much differently there"

"That's pretty big of you,"

"Respect is given where respect is due….The people out there they are always looking for…They need a hero, true heroes….and they're…for now, for what it's worth she's…"

Spitting out the rest of the sentence was one of the hardest things I've ever done. I had to swallow down a knot in my throat. But I couldn't lie to myself; I had too much self pride for that.

"….for the moment, she's number one."

Janice curled her legs under her. "It must be tough disliking Team Possible around here. They've saved Go City so many times they're like royalty almost."

I kicked off my shoes and took a seat on the bed next to my current "gal pal." "You know what you say after getting dragged down to hell?"

"What?

"Does anyone have a sweater?"

She liked that one, it impressed her, I could tell by the smile on her face. Sweet smile, sweet face, sweet girl.

I lay onto my back and she leaned over me. "Can I ask you another question?"

"Are you writing a book?"

"Well I don't figure we'll be seeing much more of each other after tonight."

"What makes you say that?"

She grinned briefly, without committing herself. "Intuition."

She was a perspective girl. She'd make a fine detective; in my eyes she was brighter than half the knuckle dragging amateurs I left behind on the force.

"Listen" I said. "I'm sorry if you….

"I didn't expect anything more than a good time." The glow of the moonlight was kind to her, did some real nice things with her eyes.

"Ask, you may receive."

I followed her eyes as they toured the room "I can understand the books and the bookcases, you look like a reader. But what is with the framed pictures of flowers?"

I knew where they were but I still glanced at the tiny framed pictures on the four corners of the room anyway.

"I was told once that in Japan the flower known as the Sakura is the symbol "justice determination and majesty."

"You actually believe in that phrase, 'justice determination and majesty'?"

"It's one of the two things I believe in one hundred percent."

"What's the other one?"

"Myself."

She laughed and then she pulled away from my field of vision leaving me to stare up at the odd patterns on the ceiling. When her face reappeared above me she was wearing an eye patch on her right eye. Needless to say my interest was significantly piqued.

"I thought you didn't….are you sure about?" I inquired enthusiastically.

She leaned over and laid a kiss on forehead. Yeah she was a sweet girl, maybe in another lifetime. One that made much more sense than the one we were currently in.

"Consider it a parting gift" she told me.

"You're going to make somebody a wonderful wife someday."

Somehow it just felt like the right thing to say. She laughed, with me or at me I wasn't sure, a moment later I turned out the light, we reached for each other and let the darkness take over.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was there when I woke up, the feeling that something big was right on the horizon.

This peculiar feeling nagged at me, it told me to get out of bed early. So I woke up and did two hundred push ups just to prove to myself I still could. After that I stumbled into the bathroom, ran a brush through my mouth and a comb dipped in Vitalis through my hair. I focused on the bathroom mirror and discovered someone I didn't care to see at the moment. He bothered me; he was starting to disappoint. He was wasting his talent, not living up to his potential. We quietly nodded to each as we passed, this morning I didn't approve of him and it was quiet likely he didn't approve of me.

Already in a foul sort of mood I hurried out my apartment and headed to work. My office could be appropriately found in Go City's office district. There you'd find that every man dressed in a jacket and tie. Those that were older than thirty five or those who had some fashion sense like me wore a fedora. This was standard wear for the downtown worker, a sharp look if one wanted to be the polite duplicate of the ordinary man beside you. It was a dull look but there were worse things a man could have on.

I shared my office building with a women's salon. The salon was located on the bottom floor and I was on the top. Like all things it had its pros and cons. A pro being the attractive women coming in and out for most of the day, a con was the talkative elderly owner. It was a chore just managing to limit my conversation with her to less than half an hour. She was waiting for me in front of the building when I arrived. In record time, about fifteen minutes, we came to an understanding that even though a handsome and sweet boy like me should find myself a pretty young thing to marry I should still enjoy my bachelorhood as much as I can. That stimulating portion of my morning concluded I bustled past her up a flight of stairs and into my office. Once inside, my eyes did a fast pirouette around the office. There was nothing much to see; a desk, files, a few chairs, no beautiful blond busty secretary. It was just a simple run down office.

If I hadn't hit rock bottom yet, there was no bottom.

I picked up the telephone, just to make sure it was still working then I set it back down. The essentials still functional I tuned my radio into the morning news.

The news du jour was about a two alarm fire in a Laundromat downtown. An exciting story for well mannered civilians of course, but it wasn't the real story. In fact anyone who had any kind of social life or better yet at least a toe in the Go City underworld knew a variation of the real story. What wasn't reported was that the entrepreneur who owned the Laundromat was he himself owned by Big Daddy Brotherson. Word on the street was that a hundred grand of Big Daddy's money was last seen in the Laundromat before it went missing. This all happened a few months ago. The money was apparently still missing; Big daddy was apparently still very furious. The other piece of news that caught my attention was the ongoing investigation of the death of former villain Lord Monkey Fist. The Go City police department announced that they were making this case a priority. Which meant the case belonged to my former brothers in arms at the D.O.I. Listening to the report on the radio made a part of me long to be back at the department.

I went over to my desk and sat down. My last case it was a brief stint of undignified photography work for a Mrs. Bonnie Senior. It was a standard case, record and photograph all infidelities or indiscretions of one Senor Senior Jr. Help grease the wheels of the inevitable divorce. Apparently Junior couldn't do anything for her that a monthly alimony check couldn't do, without leaving the toilet seat up at night. Things got complicated when a new super villain, trying to make a name for himself, took Junior hostage. Mrs. Rockwaller went to the G.P.D; the G.P.D went to Team Possible because she demanded it. Why she didn't go straight to Kim Possible was still beyond my understanding. Needless to say my services were rendered null and void. I was significantly devastated by the news. It was hard to walk away from a case that had so challenged my intellectual and physical prowess.

I glanced up at the ceiling, and I just stared. This was no time to feel sorry for myself. I had to get back to work, get better at the craft. Find a way to make an impact and right some wrongs in the process.

"Hello?"

I had been so immersed in my own thoughts I had failed to notice someone had walked into my office. I glanced up towards the source of the voice. This "someone" was sporting what any would call the "teeny bopper" look. A cardigan sweater, polo shirt and wool flannel pants. A fashion combo that was popular among young celebrities these days. But that wasn't the strange part about him. The strange part was that he wasn't human. He stood five feet tall, with the head, and I assumed from the shape, the torso of a panda. His feet resembled that of a kangaroo with a brownish colored fur in contrast to his darker upper body. He had kangaroo ears, and his "hands" well what came to mind when I saw them was squid.

The creature bopped itself on the head. "Sorry about that, I keep forgetting to knock." It bopped its forehead once more before looking over at me. "You Will Du?" It asked with a little voice akin to a child's. It reached under its shirt revealing a marsupial pouch on its midsection. From this he pulled out a pad of paper.

"The son of renowned former police detective Cain Du? The man one who matched wits and fists with a variety a variety of colorful villains that plagued Go City? The founder of the D.O.I, the man who was said to at one time single handedly cut major crimes organized or not in the city by thirty percent?"

I leaned back in my chair. "Sounds vaguely familiar."

It cleared its throat and continued, luckily with a better subject.

"Will Du, you received a prestigious private school education and graduated at the top of your class. After school you followed your father's footsteps in becoming an officer and an amateur boxer. Held a record of twenty two and zero in the ring, and even though you made no attempt to make friends or take a partner you had a near perfect case record despite some of your social shortcomings…."

It was right about most of it. What it got wrong was twenty two and zero was my father's record, I had twenty three wins. Still he was right about my illustrious former career with G.P.D. Once personally cleared twenty-five consecutive major cases in a little under a year, all alone. The next most successful detective did half that, working most of the time with a partner in tow.

I let the crack about the social shortcomings slide.

"Are you that Will Du?"

I stared the creature down. I wasn't drunk, and pinched myself to make sure I wasn't asleep. There was only one possible answer remaining. Only one person could be responsible for this monstrosity standing before me.

"You're him right?"

One could argue I wasn't as famous as I should have been

"Well the sign of the door says Will Du… but you don't look much like a private detective," It stated.

"Why not?"

"Well, you're kind of pretty looking."

"Is that right?" I replied with a chuckle.

"Not that I care what men look like… or what anyone looks like really."

"Of course, why would you?"

"But you've got a smooth voice, and your hair is shiny---"

"Yeah, you've probably got the wrong man."

His face was human enough to look sheepish. His head lowered, he turned his rounded shoulders away.

"Hold it……friend, yes I am Will Du, I was just testing you."

My mind came to the conclusion; the person responsible for this thing had to be the mad geneticist Amy Hall.

It smiled or it did what could only be a panda's version of a smile. Then its head swiveled from left to right before it reached for the door.

"Is there anyone else in here?"

"No one here but us genetically altered abominations."

My crack didn't seem to faze it. It ignored me and pulled at my door handle. "Come on in, there's no one else here."

The door opened. She stood there overabundant and bulking in the narrow doorway so that her shoulders almost touched either side of the frame. She managed to fit herself in a Chanel suit, a simple design featuring a pink collarless jacket teamed with a skirt that went slightly below the knees. For a dramatic effect she had a very dark funeral veil over her head.

"Thank you pandaroo." She turned away from creature and faced me.

"My name is Amy Hall." The strain in her voice was anything but subtle.

"Okay." I stated. "My name is Will Du. I am a private investigator. But you already know that. Maybe you read it somewhere, or you heard about me, or maybe your friend "natural selection" over there did some research. Somehow you found out about me and it gave you some form of hope. Hope will cost you twenty five dollars a day plus expenses. I'm going to tell you up front that kind of monetary input will most likely not be buying you any good news. Nine out of ten times people walk out of this very office knowing things about themselves or those close to them they didn't want to know. There's the door, consider that I can't turn back time when it's all said and done."

I'd been saying that very speech for a few years. During the beginning months of my second year as a P.I, I had two consecutive months of cases involving things ranging from finding missing relatives, to recovering "clandestine" photos for regretful brides or grooms to be. This speech sprang from those two months. It was a good speech, I was proud of it for what it was.

"I need your help and I'm willing to pay for it," she managed when the speech ended. "You're my last chance."

"For the last few years, I've been everybody's last chance. Have a seat."

She sat down before my desk. I glanced over at Mr. Roo. "Is your….pet, my client also?"

"He's not my pet, he's my little darling."

I reached into my desk and pulled out a handkerchief. I presented it to Ms. Hall and she immediately brought it to her nose. She sniffed, "our little darling."

She sat down and I watched her dab away tears. "You can wait outside Roodypoo."

It bowed, "take care of her please."

"Roodypoo" then stepped outside and I brought my attention back to DNAmy. She stared at me, her beady eyes taking me in. Inhaling deeply she said.

"You look even less like a private investigator up close. You're closer to pretty than hard boiled and rugged."

Obviously this was some shallow attempt at dispersing the heavy darkness that she had dragged in my office.

I followed suit.

"What a coincidence my mother said the same thing to me last week."

"Really?" she responded with a wisp of a smile in her voice.

"No." Pause. "Where did you get all that information about me?"

"A discreet friend."

"Anybody I know."

"I can't say for sure, but I would doubt it."

"So you're saying you got lucky."

"I'd hope so. I heard that you were good, and that sometimes you went above and beyond for you clients even those who couldn't pay you fully."

"I just do my job though I do it better than anyone else. Now my question is why the cloak and dagger act Miss Hall?"

"I was told to keep my hiring of a private investigator as much of a secret as possible."

"You were told this by the same person who told you about me?"

"Perhaps," she conceded.

While a rational man would most likely have found this game irksome I found it quite a bit of fun.

"So tell me, what's wrong?"

Her lips trembled. Her hands clenched in her lap. "I'm sure you've heard about my sweet Monty."

"Brief glances at the paper and what I hear on the radio is all I know about it."

"That's all anyone knows." She sat on the very edge of the chair as if she were about to rise. "I was the closest to him in the world, and I don't know any more than you do…… I'm willing to pay you to find some answers for me."

"This reminds me Ms. Hall, we do have a police department investigating as we speak. That fancy D.O. I, the nationally known Division of Investigation; though admittedly they are not as…..well equipped in contrast to years prior, but they must already have some of the answers to your questions."

"The department refuses to give me clear answers….Even when they were first arrived they were so aloof about it. Like they weren't going to take it seriously, like it didn't matter because Monty was a…."

"Villain?" I said softening my tone a bit.

"Former villain," she corrected. "At first they didn't seem to care, even though it happened in my home and our sanctuary. Then about a day or so later I noticed the investigation became serious, more detectives were assigned to the case; they declared my entire home a crime scene and told me to stay away for the good of the case. I didn't think I'd be able to sleep there every again, so I didn't protest that. I thought a serious investigation was what I wanted but then…."

"Then…?"

"The blanket of silence is what happened. Every time I asked about the case they give me the run around."

"Well understandably the public can't be privy to all facets of the investigation. Some things have to be on a need to know basis."

"They've clammed up tighter then…..clams….when it comes to my questions. But they are releasing information, negative information about my poor Monty. They can't tell me about his killer but somehow they find it appropriate to turn his name into mud all over the city!"

Somehow I managed to keep myself from snorting out loud.

"Ms. Hall with all due respect Monkey Fist's name was….."

She stood up. "He changed! He, he promised…"With a heavy sigh she sat back down. "My little monkey pudding and pie accepted the villain reformation act just like I did. He was serious about it; you can ask Senor Senior Sr. He'll tell you about how serious Monty was about turning a new leaf!"

I sighed. "What do you want me to do Ms. Hall?"

The lady dabbed at her eyes. "I don't know who killed my Monty-poo or why. Or why the G.P.D is trying to stain his name. They're talking about him stealing again. But what did he steal? We lived together; you'd imagine I would have noticed any new ancient scriptures or monkey related artifacts in his possession. Though he was a gentleman thief he wasn't shy about his breaking and entering. I've looked into all major robberies in the last few months and there is nothing that even comes close to having a connection with Monty. The story that the G.P.D is trying to sell is a lie and the only thing that will change it is the facts! I need the facts!"

Then she tortured her lower lip with glistening teeth and said nothing. I wordlessly got up from my desk and walked towards the mini bar I had installed in a far corner room. It was only a few months into the job when I realized that bad news was easier to accept for the client when chased by a drink. Now I wasn't a social drinker by any stretch of the imagination but I did believe holding a glass of liquor in hand sometimes added a sense of mystique to my person.

"Drink?"

She sniffed. "I'm not much of a drinker but if you insist I'll have a whiskey sour."

A double take or two later I found myself preparing a drink for Ms. Hall and myself. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe Monkey---"

"Monty."

"That maybe Monty had ah, slipped back into ---"

"He was dedicated to his new life," she interrupted. He was even getting help adjusting to life outside of villainy."

I handed her the drink and she gulped it down like a pro. I took a seat back at my desk and began nursing my glass.

"Help? From whom?"

"Ron Stoppable."

I glanced up from the bottom of my glass. It was well known that Stoppable and Fiske had reached an awkward truce. I remembered a shot of them shaking hands under an olive tree on the cover of the Times. It reeked highly of PR.

"Don't you see how dedicated he was to his new life? The one person who he hated most of all he accepted as a life counselor. It's so sweet." She blew into the now soggy handkerchief.

"This is the first time I'm hearing of this."

Her eyes were uneasy. "Of course Monty has his pride like all men. I found out when I happened to walk into my study while he was speaking to Ron Stoppable on the phone."

I gave the matter some thought before speaking again.

"Ms. Hall, maybe you should wait and see how the investigation develops…."

"I can't trust the G.D.P anymore. You're my last hope; I'll give you eleven thousand dollars."

"It's not about the money…..the proper procedure here would be to…."

"You have to help! I'm not sure where else I can turn!"

"I…."

Only her dark eyes spoke now, pleading.

I gulped down the remainder of my drink. I glanced past the ice and down at my reflection at the bottom.

"Alright, I'll check up on things for you. Don't get your hopes up though, you shouldn't expect anything amazing. I'll only take ten percent as payment for now."

Amy Hall, AKA DNAmy, burst into tears before my very eyes. She sobbed loudly, causing Mr. Pandaroo to burst back in the room with childlike fear in his eyes."

"Is something wrong?!!"

Amy Hall opened her arms and Pandypoo was drawn into them like she was a magnet. They embraced tightly and cried into each other's shoulders.

I sat there watching the circus scene wondering what exactly I had gotten myself into.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

I allowed the Ms Hall and her pet to grieve for another ten minutes before I pointed them both to the person-centered therapists who worked across the street from my office. One of these days I would have to get around to levying a fee on those ingrate therapists. Heaven knows I was keeping them in business. With my clients out of the way, I left my office and headed out towards the public library. Unlike others in my profession I couldn't afford any research equipment, or a staff to do the research for me. Most of my funds, when I received any, went towards my apartment and my living necessities. But it wasn't all grim news. Not only was it a source of information but there was an added benefit to the library being the place to start a preliminary investigation. The comely brown haired librarian working there was a sight for sore eyes after having my vision clogged with that of Amy Hall.

However this wasn't the time for a social call, so I handed her a list of dates.

"What a coincidence," she muttered. "Someone asked for some of these same dates yesterday, I remember hauling these out among many others from the back a few days ago."

I cogitated on this as I followed the librarian to the stack. I took them over to an empty table and sat down. The newspapers told their story with their feature stories, headlines and editorials. I tried to piece together a logical story of my own. Lord Monkey Fist, birth name Montgomery "Monty" Fiske, in his heyday Monty was a Grade 'A' Baddie who specialized in, archeology, martial arts and thievery. More specifically he is obsessively consumed with all things simian, for example the study of Tai Shing Pek Kwar, or Monkey Kung-Fu. Monty used to be a nobleman, but at some point in his life monkeys dominated his mental process and he spent his family fortune on the genetic modifications to achieve a monkey-like physique. Why he chose monkeys and not lemurs or marmosets remains a mystery to this day.

Monty was also wildly regarded as Ronald Stoppable's primary arch nemesis. A prestigious gig until he disappeared for a few years. The reasons for his disappearance still remain a mystery. He returned out of the blue a few years later with DNAmy in tow. Monty tried to dip his toes back in the villain game but time had passed him by. General consensus was during his absence Ron Stoppable's physical skill set had grown by leaps and bounds. Frankly speaking, the buffoon had finally surpassed the lunatic. DNAmy wised him up to the Villain Reformation Act that had been adapted during his absence. Since then he'd been jacketed to her, they had been living together for years. Along with a mutant genetic "son" she created three years ago they seemed to be one big happy sideshow family.

That is of course until he shook hands with the great leveler.

MF became an honest citizen…supposedly. Somehow he got tied in with Senor Senior Sr. Senior was apparently a staunch supporter of the Reformation Act, publically urging other major villains to give up the lifestyle. It appeared Fiske had found a new calling in helping Senior reach out to other villains. Ironically Senor Senior Sr. announcing he would run for office at the end of the current governor's term trumped the news of Monty's murder. Not that there was much public clamor over it. Monkey Fiske had been a big name in villainy but he was never a "sexy" name in that world; unlike the monikers of Shego, Drakken or Dementor.

There was even less news about the investigation as days went by. The last bit of big news was the authorities questioning the last two people who had seen him alive. Both of their alibis' seemed legit at the moment. Amy Hall and her "darling" had spent most of the day at some sort of doll convention; dozens of witnesses placed her at the event. She returned home the next day to find her house blocked off by law enforcement. She was then briefed on the situation from afar; she was told there was a monkey man sized hole through a wall in her living room, and a quarter sized hole in her beau courtesy of a laser blast. The second person to enjoy Monty's last few days of breathing was his butler and occasional confidante Mr. Jeremiah Bates. Bates had been given the week off a few days prior. However he stopped by the Hall home the morning of Fiske's death to check up on things. According to the papers Bates said he found Fiske in a strangely chipper mood. "A demeanor most unbecoming of a nobleman," he declared. Finding everything relatively on the level Bates spent the rest of the day and night in a pub downtown. He was the one who returned to find Lord Fiske's body.

The papers certainly did tell me something. Monkey Fist had apparently been murdered by person unknown. Unfortunately that wasn't quite enough to solve the case.

There were a few little details that I did find interesting. Like evidence that someone had rummaged through the house. However there was no word if anything had been stolen. The stories that had trickled out since the murder didn't tell much but they implied a lot. The D.O.I let a few hints drop about a thieving ring and then the articles stopped altogether. It seemed like there was nothing more about Fiske interesting enough to read. His life was over and so was his story. Finally I noticed a direct quote from Team Possible was nary to be found. Though there was something from an unnamed middle man. "Team Possible is shocked and distraught over this news. Monty Fiske may have been a troubled individual but they still wished that he had reached out to them, Team Possible would have gladly given him a helping hand."

Ms. Hall wasn't being paranoid; no one out right stated anything but there was a whole lot of implying going on that Fiske was up to no good. Satisfied I pushed myself from the newspapers and indulged in some mental mastication as I returned to the librarian.

"Miss, do you happen to know who asked for these papers?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Curiosity sake…..Mrs…Miss?"

"Miss Hammer." She replied.

"Curiosity sake Miss Hammer."

She eyed me delicately. "In our library we do have a confidentiality policy."

"Of course." I made as if I was leaving but I turned back towards her. "One more thing Miss Hammer may I ask you another pertinent library related question?"

"Sure."

I leaned over the counter. "Do you like short love affairs?"

"That's not a library related question" she tsked.

It was admittedly a tsk of disapproval, however it in my humble opinion, it didn't match the look of curiosity on her face.

"It's not really pertinent either. But it is the question on my mind."

"Well then the answer to your question is that I hate them."

I grinned. "That's good because I've got all weekend."

She smiled and it was a curious smile. "That's cute, very cute. How old are you?"

"I'm twenty five."

"I'm thirty five."

"And?"

"I'm old," she replied.

"You're in your prime."

"Flatterer."

"I'm anything but ma'am. However I do believe there is some truth in the words of Madame de Stael 'The desire of the man is for the woman, but the desire of the woman is for the desire of the man'."

"Hmm, a cultured flatterer," she proclaimed. "You seldom get those around here." With that she sauntered off and returned a moment or two later.

She shook her head. "The head librarian filed those articles out. She was much too elderly to haul all those papers out on her own so I brought them out for her but I didn't get to see who they were for.

"I see, does she recall who it was?"

She was off and back in five minutes shaking her head."She tried, but we get a lot of people coming and going in here. You can't really blame her if she stopped taking in faces over twelve years"

"I understand. You know Miss Hammer, if this weather wasn't so bad we could take a drive around town. I know this city like the back of my hand; there are plenty of nice scenic places we could go."

She smiled warmly and scribbled something on a piece of paper. "The weather is rotten today, but there is always the weekend."

Miss Hammer handed me the piece of paper. It was good to know the trip to the library hadn't been a waste of time after all.

A/N Ok I really want to hear any questions or suggestions you may have. For this one I'd really like to see the feedback. I'm trying to make it as interesting as possible.

Oh there's no real set "time" for this story. If you can get that lol