Wow - bit of a giant gap between chapters, huh?? I do apologise, and I promise that the chapters wwont be as long in the coming, though I'll be surprised if anyone is still reading! Haha. Anyway. Lets keep the clues coming. And the reviews. Whatever works.

I wrote this one - as you can probably tell from the long winded rambling and plain old silliness! But its fun. So, you have fun. Or something.

Chapter 5: Rationality

She sat on the couch the whole night, dozing on and off. When she was awake, she tried to think, to mull things through in her head. And what had occurred only hours before right there in the very couch she occupied was not on the agenda. She wouldn't allow it to be.
The whole deal was up in the air. Lola and Violet had not performed since the night Bert had died, and to tell the truth, Lola wasn't really sure she wanted to get back out there. But she needed the money. They both did.

There was a knock on her door and she jumped. Picking herself up off the lounge she answered it, squinting through the morning light and making out her visitor, thanking whatever gods were in existence that it was not Ricky.

"What time is it?" she asked groggily.

"Midday," Stanley said. Lola groaned, putting a hand to her head. She stepped aside, letting her friend in.

"How are you?" she asked.

"I'm okay," he replied almost automatically. She nodded.

"Tea, coffee?" she queried.

He nodded. "Coffee would be great," he replied and followed her into the kitchen, taking a seat at the small table inside.

"How's everything with the bar?" she asked.

"As to be expected," Stanley said. "Short staffed. No one wants to seem to work there." He grimaced. "Can't say I blame them."
"If you get desperate I'll come help out," she said. He nodded.

"Thanks. Oh that detective was sniffing around earlier this morning as well."

Lola dropped the spoon she was using and it clattered noisily on the floor. She didn't turn around as she picked it up an asked, "Oh?"

"Yeah, he was looking for you."

Her stomach turned and she did not reply, finishing making the beverages and handing one to Stanley before wrapping her hands around hers.

"What did he want?"

"Follow up interview or something."

"Did he leave?"

Stanley shook his head. "Went and spoke to Violet."

"Did you hear?" she asked.

"No, why?"

She shook her head and they lapsed into silence.

"Have you spoken to your brother?" Lola asked. Stanley's face closed.

"I tracked him down. He didn't want to hear about it. Said it was my responsibility."

"He didn't care."

"No."

"I'm sorry," she said. He nodded.

"Anyway I really came to invite you to the memorial I'm holding tonight at the Monkey," he said. "And to show you this." He pulled a newspaper out of his coat and handed it to Lola, who scanned it.

"NEW MOTIVE FOR WATSON MURDER?" the headline read.

Lola met Stanley's eyes and he gestured for her to read on. The article outlined her relationship with Stanley, and added that Stanley and Violet were at the time of his fathers death, actually having an affair. So of course there was the whole 'love triangle' angle happening, and of course Lola had been painted as the jealous ex-lover who wanted to get back at Stanley. It was weak, but it was another nail into her coffin nonetheless.

"Jacob Carmichael," she said. "Where the hell could he have pulled this information from?" she asked, fuming. "Is there any truth to it?"
Stanley blanched. "Me and Violet?" he said. "Never."

Lola shook her head. "We're going to have to do something about that son of a bitch," she said, lividly angry. Gallows, here I come, she thought grimly.

"He's just a reporter," Stanley says. "Doesn't have much sway."

She nodded, not really believing it.

"How did he get this?" she asked again.

"I don't know, he's a reporter isn't he?"

"Yeah he's got the funny hat and everything," she said dryly. Stanley smiled for the first time in a while, and stood.

"Anyway I better get back," he said. "I have a lot to get done. Oh, and apparently Donovan's coming tonight."

"What?" she asked, far too forcefully.

"Don't ask me. Probably wants to make sure you don't murder any more bar-owners." It was meant to be a jest but Stanley regretted his words at the look on her face.

"I'll be there," she said hollowly, and Stanley knew this to be a dismissal. He pecked her on the cheek before leaving the house.

She arrived early, hoping to be able to help Stanley with the preparations, but he was already done by the time she got there.
"Violet coming down?" she asked. He shrugged.

The guests began to arrive, adding to the already loud buzz of chat and revelry in the bar. Stanley had not been able to afford to close the bar so had made the service ap public one. He played the perfect host, smiling, making small talk and serving up drinks. Lola drifted, not knowing anyone there.

--------------

"I guess, looking back, I was looking for him. Stanley said he'd be there, and so, in my mind, he would. There was no question. As soon as he entered I felt him, as silly as it sounds now. But it was real, the feelings still raw from last night. Our eyes met over the crowd and suddenly the sound dimmed and it was just he and I. The spell broke when I turned my back abruptly, not able to bear it. There wasn't even anyone I could pretend to talk to. I ordered another drink. I was stuck. I felt his eyes on me and tried to adopt some kind of neutral expression but my hands betrayed me.

'Hey,' he said in a low voice, obviously not trusting himself to meet my eyes.

'Evening detective,' I replied and closed my eyes momentarily, ready for the plunge."

Jordan finished the sentence and, sensing that Lily wanted to speak, stopped.

"How could she let him get to her like that?" Lily asked. "She seemed so strong."

"She'd lost control of her strength. He took it from her."

"Jury's still out on whether that's a good or a bad thing," Nigel said.

"He should have known better, with Mitchell on his back he was definitely risking the case. Risking her life."

"The question is, was it worth it? Maybe if the whole mess had never occurred, they'd both have lived long and lonely lives," Jordan countered.

"Ricky did," he said, guessing, and knowing in his mind how the diary culminated. Jordan sensed this knowledge and nodded slightly.

"You're right. But he had some time," she said. "Do you think it was worth it?"

Woody thought about it, eyes not leaving his friends. "Yes," he said quietly. "I think it was worth it."

She nodded. "Thought you'd see it like that."

Seely sighed, breaking their gaze. "This is getting us nowhere. We're no closer to the killer. What do we have now that they didn't have back then?"

Jordan met his eyes. "Rationality," she said.

-------------------
He took hold of her arm surreptitiously, so she'd have to look at him.

"Somewhere we can talk?" he asked in a low voice.

Lola, who was trying to avoid the question any way possible was scanning the room, and her eyes darkened when she saw a head bobbing through the crowd.

"Carmichael," she growled, and pulled out of Ricky's grasp. He frowned, and followed her gaze.

"Where?" he asked. The detective was also not happy with the reporter, having seen his 'scoop' of the morning.

"Get him out of here," she said, more to herself than Ricky, but the detective nodded and disappeared into the crowd. Lola backed away, straight into Stanley.

"What's going on?" he asked, noting her flushed cheeks and bright eyes.

"Nothing," she said.

"Stanley," a voice called. It was Violet. Lola looked at the girl but Violet did not meet her friends eyes. Before Lola could implement her intended plan of escape, Ricky returned.

"He's gone," the detective told her, watching the door. "We need to talk."

Lola, not wanting to make a scene in front of Stanley and Violet, nodded serenely and turned her back, listening for the footfall behind her. She took him out into the entertainment area of the club – reasoning that there we nice open spaces. No fences. Plenty of escape routes. She grimaced and shook her head free of the thoughts plaguing it. He was not a hunter and she most certainly was not a frightened deer awaiting the slaughter. She turned to face him.

"Fire away," she said, almost smiling at her irony.

He hesitated. "The paper doesn't help our cause."

She couldn't help raising her eyebrow.

"Oh really? And I thought it was outlining someone else's guilt. Gee, I should definitely start paying more attention. She regretted the tone of voice she'd used but did not apologise. Ricky tried to ignore the sarcasm and focus. Looking at her, all he could see were her round vulnerable eyes from the night before. But the vulnerability was all gone now, and replaced with a cold, hard look, not exactly directed at him but all directed at him at the same time. She was well aware of his discomfort.

"You have to help me help you, Lola. This is not going to go away."

"You're full of insights today aren't you?"

"Tonight," he corrected, nodding towards the window. She followed his gaze to the window where night had fallen.

"What do you expect me to do?" she asked after a pause, regarding him.

"Help me figure out who killed him."

-------------------------
"The next day I received a letter summoning me to court a month from the day."

"They had the case already?" Woody asked. "What happened to their little murder solving gig? I thought Ricky was on her side."

"I'm guessing that Ricky had little choice in the matter," Jordan replied. "There was nothing he could do except not speed the process up. Rememer Mitchell was the chief ME, he had sway even then with the Boston PD. The rest of the cops, the papers, the doctors, all against her. There was nothing fair about the justice system in 1927."

"But why was Ricky not against her?" Garret said. "How could this 'by the book' detective suddenly throw everything away? Be so compromised? He was risking his career."

"Love tends to do that," Nigel said.

"That's a strong word," Lily said. "They've known each other for what, a week?"

Jordan shrugged. "It happened."

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"I've finished complying the results of the autopsy," Dr. Mitchell said to Ricky. The detective was standing in the ME's office, and Mitchell was seated behind the desk.

"And?" the detective asked. Mitchell raised an eyebrow.

"Homicide."

"I figured," Ricky replied. "What else?"

"The hair was the only piece of evidence linking anyone to the murder. My statement in court will be that the only suspect whose hair matched was Grant."

"It's not your place to say that," Ricky replied.

"Oh I'm sure the judge wont mind," Mitchell replied.

"The defense might," Ricky warned. Mitchell stopped and looked at the detective.

"You really believe she's innocent," Mitchell said in disbelief. He had always respected the detective and trusted his judgement. "She's got you convinced! She has means, motive and opportunity!"

"Where's the means? Where do you think she got the poison?"

Mitchell sent him a withering look. "Do you know where she went when she left home?" he asked after a pause.

"No," Ricky replied.

"Nor do I. Nor did her father."

"Your point?"

"She hasn't an unexplained chunk or her life! She could be working for the mafia for all we know."

Ricky began to scoff but Mitchell held up his hand. "That is a bit extreme, but you know what I mean." He paused and watched the well-controlled facial expression of the detective. He stood and stepped around his desk, putting a hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"She's trouble," was all he said, before walking out of the room.
-----------

The bashing on her door was enough to jerk her awake. She looked at the old, dying grandfather clock she'd 'procured' from her father's old house. It was 10pm. She was surprised she was even asleep. She went to her door and opened it, not knowing or particularly caring who was a-calling. She was both surprised and unsettled to discover it was Ricky.

"Good evening," she said dryly, eyes sliding to his red hand. "How's the wife and kids?"

He looked surprised, and then his face relaxed into a lazy half-grin. Lola's stomach flipped over.

"They've all moved to England so goddamn it I'm free to do what I want."

Lola surprised herself by laughing.

"And what's that?" she asked; anything to keep that grin on the man's face.

His expression turned serious.

"Save your life."

They stared at each other as the reality of the situation sunk in. Lola stepped aside and he entered.

"Did you murder Bert Watson?" Ricky asked before he'd even got into the room.

She met his eyes and didn't waver.

"No, I did not."

"Why should I believe you?" he asked, hating himself, even though he was only doing his job.

"I don't know," she answered.

"You've got it all," he said. "Means, motive, the whole enchilada, so I've kindly been informed by your friend Mitchell." Ricky paused. "He was gonna cut your contract."

"I had it under control," she said.

"I heard. You told that talent scout. In front of two witnesses. You know you can't ever sing at the Monkey again."

"Which is an anti-motive isn't it? How stupid would I have to be to kill the cantankerous old frog?"

She'd lost her temper. Something she didn't normally do. Cool, calm, collected; Lola's three commandments were the three C's.

"I don't know," Ricky said, walking past her and flopping onto the couch. "Mitchell's getting to me."

Here, in her home, what had seemed like logic before suddenly withered away. She couldn't have done it.

She sat next to him. "Don't listen to him," she said. "He's as bad as my father."

He decided to let comatose dogs lie, sensing she was sensitive on the topic of her father.

"He's good at his job."

"So was he," Lola replied flatly.

Ricky studied her. "I can't do anything to clear you," he said. "It's up to the jury who's probably already convinced that you're guilty, and that you're sleeping with Stanley, and whatever other theories Jake has going."

"Bastard," she said, but more tiredly than venomously. "I'm screwed. Wanna come to Canada?"

"I think we need either Spain or Australia at this point," he said. She smiled weakly.

"Pack your bags."

They were quiet for a while.

"Sorry about last night," he said gruffly, after a while.

She met his eyes. "Nothing to apologise for," she said. "Takes two to tango."

"Nice analogy," he grinned.

"Let's be adults," she said in a low voice.

He smiled, leaned forward and kissed her. There was no awkwardness, or even a giant burst of passion. They could even have been two very intimate friends. The air smelt of companionship.

----------------
"I won't go much into exactly what happened that night. This book could fall into the wrong hands and then I'm even more screwed than I was. Not to mention Ricky's career. But I'm sure anyone reading this will get the gist."

Jordan smiled. "Yeah I think I got that," she said.

"The idiot!" Woody said. "He should have known better!"

"If Mitchell gets a hold of that she's gone."

"She's gone anyway," Max said, watching Jordan. Seely shrugged.

"Well who else would do it?" he said, looking around. "She's gotta be guilty. I don't know why we're wasting our time."

"Oh well in that case we'll just call it a night then, shall we?" Garret said dryly, giving Seely a cold stare.

"Not likely," replied Nigel.