I meant to update this earlier, but my computer crashed. It's been giving me a lot of trouble lately. First, its audio drive stopped responding and now its graphic controller is missing!!!

Anyway, I really want to thank all those who have remembered me, and reviewed. Samstar1990, FlamingIce94and BBleached... Thanks sooooo much!


Chapter 13

The sour look on Michael's face, when he greeted the trio, was enough to tell Tyson that the investigation was not about to go too smoothly.

"Of all the people Shane could've hired, he had to choose that buffoon?!" Michael spat angrily. "That thing needs to be eradicated, I tell ya!"

"McGregor?" Max asked with a bemused look.

"The All Mighty Knight," Michael shot the Volkswagen a dirty look. "Arrived here an hour ago, in that glitzy vehicle; and had been sniffing around ever since! He'd put a fox hound to shame."

With a dreaded look, the team ducked under the tapes, and made their way towards the front door.

"See that over there?" Michael pointed towards a small patch of flowerbed, which looked like it had been over turned quite recently. "McGregor's doing," he explained.

"Did he find anything?" Hiro asked.

Michael snorted. "As if he'd share his ingenious discovery with us!"

"What was he looking for, over there, anyway?" Max wondered.

"A two thousand year old mummy probably," Tyson replied sarcastically. "Or perhaps a few mocking skulls to keep him company."

Garland stood at the doorway, his expression disgusted. "He's inside," he replied before they could've asked anything. "Probably trying to scale the walls."

The first word that came to Tyson's mind, when he entered the house, was 'neat'. Almost everything in the living room was placed neatly in order, starting from the pile of books on the shelf, to the pictures hanging on the walls. The small room was adjoined to a narrow kitchen, equally neat. A small door at one corner led out to the backyard, while another, further away from the kitchen, opened into another room. The small room clearly gave off the impression of a neat and clean habitat. However, the tidiness of the living room had been smudged at one point.

A green armchair sat by the fireplace, its back facing the front door. One of its sides had been stained with deep scarlet lines, which ran down to form a small puddle on the floor. A few mantelpieces lay shattered on the floor, along with a cracked picture frame. The picture showed a pink haired girl, smiling brightly as she leaned against a young man with long raven hair and amber eyes, a small smile gracing his lips, as well. It seemed almost strategic, that a crack ran down along the length of the photo, separating the couple. The couple that was no more. The couple that had been shattered… just like the glass.

Garland's last pun hadn't been very wide off the mark, as the team soon discovered. Johnny McGuire stood flattened against one of the wall, one ear pressed against it. His palms roamed all over the surface of the wall in circular motion. His brows were knotted together in concentration, as he continued his exploration.

"Why don't you just try 'Open Sesame'?" Tyson called out sarcastically.

Johnny turned swiftly, his expression changing to that of loathing and smugness. "Well, well, well… Who invited the sidekicks?" he scanned the group once, raising an eyebrow. "What happened to your ringleader? Chickened out, did he? Good. That's save me from enduring the sight of his pitiful face."

"Once he gets here, it's your face that'll require pitying." Tyson growled.

Johnny's eyes narrowed. "Really now? Then why isn't he here yet? Is he too humbled or just too gutless to face me again?"

"He's got more important things to take care of, than seeing a worthless egoist!"

"What are you worth, Granger? Not even—"

"That's enough!" Hiro's sharp voice cut across them. "This is a police investigation and we could at least keep to ourselves if not co-operate."

Tyson and Johnny glared at each other with utmost loathing. 'Co-operation' was definitely out of question.

The Scot snorted. "Do you seriously think that your amateur skills would be any good in this case? I'm ready to bet that none you have the slightest idea about the murderer."

"And you do?" Tyson retorted.

"As a matter of fact," Johnny's mouth curved into a leer. "I do."

A similar look of disbelief and shock reflected in the eyes of the rest. Tyson, for once, couldn't come up with a reply.

Johnny's leer widened. "What's up, Granger? Cat got your tongue?"

Tyson gritted his teeth, hands balling into fists.

"Not that I blame you, though," Johnny continued smugly. "It's way over your level. Licking that substandard Russian's footsteps, like a good little lapdog… It's bound to have some effect on your already low intelligence."

Tyson's fists tightened, resisting the urge to bury them into the grinning face.

"You," Johnny turned towards Hiro. "You're in charge of this whole place, aren't you? I have to admit your dogs are bit too inefficient when it comes to digging up clues."

"Who're you calling—" Michael sprang forward, only to be stopped by Hiro's outstretched arm.

"I did, what I thought was necessary," Hiro said unfazed. "If you find it inefficient, then so be it. Just keep in mind, that this isn't about how munch you know about the murderer; but about whether you can stop him or not. So unless either of us can achieve that, we'd be even."

"Even? Hah! Dream all you want," Johnny scoffed. "I bet neither of you can even tell where the killer is from!"

"You mean you can?"

"Of course I can! In fact, let me show you."

"Whoah! Hang on a minute! You're actually helping us?" Michael asked skeptically, only to earn an elbow in the ribs from Garland.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Johnny spoke as he led the others to a small desk in one corner. "I'm just showing you what a pathetic excuse for a policeman you are. So don't worry about gaining my assistance. You'll be only seeing a small fraction of my discoveries; just so that you know that I've been right all along."

"Right about what?" Max asked.

"You'll see."

The five of them gathered round the desk. Johnny took out a small packet from his coat, and emptied its contents. The contents were very simple ones: the stub of a cigarette and an unlighted match. The Scottish detective then wheeled round on Tyson.

"Well?" he barked. "What do you see there?"

There was something almost brutal in his tone, which made Tyson's cheeks flush. He frowned. "A cigarette end and a match?"

A leer once again crept into Johnny's face. "And what does that tell you?" he drawled mockingly.

"Nothing."

Once again, a simple word, spoken so firmly by a familiar deep, velvet voice… right behind him, made Tyson jolt around with a yelp. He nearly lost his footing, if Hiro hadn't been there to steady him. However, McGuire hadn't been so fortunate; and was currently sitting on his backside, gaping at the lean figure towering over him.

"Kai!" Tyson looked ready to hug the Phoenix, relief clear in his voice.

"How do you do that?!" Michael gasped, breathing hard.

"How long have you been here?" Garland asked eyes wide.

Ignoring the BBA, Kai fixed his eyes on the figure still lying on the floor, and raised an eyebrow. Johnny's shocked look gave way to a scowl, as he jumped up. "You again!"

"What's up McGregor? Michael suddenly sneered. "Cat got your nose?"

With a jolt, Johnny dropped his hand, which he had been holding over his nose without realizing. Giving Michael a final glare, he rounded on Kai.

"You disappoint me, Hiwatari," he said. "For a moment I thought that you'd finally come to some senses and decided to clear off… But I guess you're still as pathetic as ever. Then again, I suppose I should remember that you're still a novice in this game— a game where victory will be mine… You're such a waste of my time…"

"Then, I guess I'll just have to beat you faster."

"You really think you can outdo me?" Johnny sneered. "Face it Hiwatari! You're way behind me in this case. I've barely started working and already have enough clues to lead me to the murderer."

He pointed at the matchstick and cigarette.

"You haven't made a study of these things, have you? That's not an ordinary match—not in this country at least. It's common enough in China. Luckily, it's unlighted I mightn't have recognized it otherwise. Mariah Wong wasn't a smoker. So, evidently, the murderer threw away his cigarette and lit another, spilling a match out of his box as he did so."

"And the other match?" Kai asked indifferently.

"Which match?"

"The one he did light his cigarette with. Did you find that as well?"

"No," Johnny frowned. "But in any case, match or no match, the cigarette would be sufficient. It's manufactured from Xuchang, a city in central China."

"If you're still going on about Ray, then—" Tyson began.

"It's strange, isn't it?" Kai cut across him. "That Kon should have such a drastic argument his ex-girlfriend; intentionally or out of rage, shot her; and still have the time and mentality to enjoy a smoke."

For a moment, an almost murderous rage obscured Johnny's face. He took two strides towards his tormentor, but at that moment, a shrill ringing sound pierced the climax. Johnny frowned and took out a flashy cell phone from his pocket.

"Hello?" he nearly growled into it. "Mr. Shane? Yes, I see."

Shutting the phone, he smirked superiorly at the rest. "Well, I guess we'll have to settle this later. My client awaits." He turned towards Kai. "We'll see who gets the last laugh, Hiwatari. I be glad to your see face once I win this."

Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out.

"Hah!" Garland snorted. "He ran away. Coward!"

"Kai! You're awesome back there!" Max beamed happily at Kai. "Where have you been? We got all worried, for a while."

"Osaka."

"Osaka?" Tyson looked bemused.

"The bedroom."

"Huh?!"

Tyson finally got the message when Kai silently walked in through the adjoining door.

"Kai! Wait a minute! What were you doing in Osaka?" Tyson called after him. On getting no reply, he slumped his shoulders. "Why do I even bother?"

Hiro, Michael and Garland decided to check out the backyard, as Tyson and Max followed Kai's trail.

The bedroom was also neatly furnished. A single bed occupied the middle of room, sunlight falling on the white sheets through small window, facing the East. To the right of the bed, was a small cabinet. Its drawers had been wrenched open, as if in a hurry. The contents—clothes, money and some jewelry—lay scattered on the floor. On the opposite side, was a small desk and a chair. It contained a table clock, a tiny figure of a pink she-cat and a pen stand.

Tyson and Max found Kai leaning against the desk, going through a notebook, in his hand.

"What's that?" Max asked.

Wordlessly, Kai handed him the book.

"It's like a memo pad, or something." Max said when he opened it. "Grocery lists…bills…reminders…a recipe…" Max read as he turned the pages. "That's it, I guess. The rest of the pages are blank."

He handed it back to Kai, who placed it on the desk, beside the pen stand.

"The killer had been looking for something," Tyson spoke from where he was crouched near the cabinet. "It can't be money or jewelry, since all that's been neglected. But then what was he looking for? And did he find it?"

Max moved next to Kai, who was leaning against window, in his usual stance.

"Say Kai," Max said. "Do you think it was alright to dismiss that match and cigarette? They could've been a clue or something couldn't they? I mean it's usually the little things—traces that lead us infallibly to the murderers."

"Why do you think that the match was a clue?"

"Er… because…"

"Because McGregor told you so." Kai looked up. "It is nothing, but a romantic idea that all important clues must be infinitesimal. A clue, two feet long, is every bit as valuable as one measuring two millimeters."

Max stayed quiet for a moment. Finally, he decided to try his luck at getting Kai to talk a bit more.

"What do you think McGregor was looking for in that flower bed?"

"Something that I had ignored."

"Just a sec!" Tyson interrupted. "When exactly did you arrive here?"

"A few hours before McGregor did."

"What! And you had to make a last minute entrance, giving me a heart attack nonetheless! Why didn't show up before, when that McGarbage was—"

"What do you mean by something you had ignored?" Max cut across.

"I discovered a piece of clothing sticking out of the earth. It was a part of a jacket. I left it there. But McGregor seemed to have found it interesting, so he dug it up."

"A jacket?"

"A bloodstained one."

"What!" Tyson gasped in horror. "And you just left it there? Just like that? For McGregor to find out? We could've analyzed it!"

"There's no need to."

"Why?"

"Because I already know whom it belonged to."


Finally the Crime Scene! I've been dying to write this ever since Chapter 8! My initial idea was to only include Kai, Tyson, Max and Hiro here, but I decided to throw Johnny in the mix, to make it even more twisted! Besides, I just love Kai's dramatic entrances!

So, read and review. Unless, my computer decides to rebel again, the next chapter would be up by next week!

With lots of love,

KPR.

P.S. Do you think a laptop's better than a desktop, when it comes to performance?