The Suspect:

The number Francis gave her is to a landline in a sketchy part of town, much to her luck and surprise. It's not very often that people use house phones these days. Elizaveta considered calling but decided against it, which is how she finds herself circling the block. The neighborhood is as she expects, and despite wanting desperately to meet this man who's eluded even her father's private investigator, she also wants to have a car by the end of the evening.

A man sits on a porch outside what looks like a rundown garage. It has a faded white sign stating 'parking for 5$ all day". It's not aesthetically pleasing, but there is a lock on the gate, so she goes inside. There are few cars here, so she parks close to the back by what appears to be an office. The man is nice and assures her that her car will be safe. He smiles as Elizaveta hands over $10, to be safe. The man is old, missing several teeth, but she trusts him enough to keep his word.

Clouds cover blue skies, giving the day a dreary, depressed feel. Gray light reflects on the old red bricks and it makes the place look a lot more ominous than it probably would in sunshine. There is trash everywhere, mainly coming from trash cans left for the garbage trucks. A few people are outside, sitting or gathered around the porches of apartment complexes. There is a small courtyard that she walks through, and her boots crunch against the gravel and dirt. Grass has been trampled so much that it doesn't grow here anymore. There are patches of it, scattered here and there. The closer she gets to where the apartment is, the more people she sees. Elizaveta keeps her gaze straight, jaw set and ready for anything that could happen. No one pays her any real mind, except for a catcall from a guy that is quickly shot down by a death glare on her part.

The way the housing complex is set up is like a square. There are four buildings made of red bricks, and a small walkway between each with the courtyard set in the middle. Elizaveta goes to the building toward the back of the square, titled building 'E'. There is no elevator, so Elizaveta climbs three flights of stairs that smelling pungently of urine, hands securely in her jacket pockets until she gets to the hallway. The apartment she wants is at the end of the hall. Elizaveta hesitates a moment, staring at the chipped green paint of the door and nearly faded black numbers. She can hear what sounds like a TV coming from inside. Someone is clearly home. Taking a breath, she inhales, then knocks and waits. There is nothing for a few seconds, or maybe because of the noise from the television she couldn't hear, but the door opens unexpectedly and there is woman, rather young-looking, with a baby propped on her waist.

"Do I know you?" the woman asks immediately, eyeing Elizaveta suspiciously as she waits for an answer.

"No," Elizaveta answers, discreetly trying to see inside. "I'm looking for a friend of mine, actually. A guy named Antonio."

The name seems to ring a bell with the woman and she nods. "Oh, yeah, I haven't that name in a couple months." She switches the baby to her other hip and leans against the door frame.

Elizaveta brightens immediately, "So you know him?"

The woman shakes her head, "I don't 'know him' know him. He used to live here before I moved in almost a year ago. Guy must have been hella popular; a few people came looking for him a month or so after I moved in. Actually, some guy not too long ago came by looking for Antonio."

"A guy? What did he look like?"

The woman's eyes go unfocused for a moment. She pushes the baby further up her hip as she thinks. "Ugh, a tall guy, I remember. Real handsome, had the whole mysterious look about him, you know. Strong accent, tanned, scruffy beard, I think he was some kind of Arabic. But," she lowers her voice then, "If you ask me, I don't think Antonio wanted to be found. Talked to Rich, the owner of this place after like four guys came here looking for Toni. Rich said the guy that used to live here was named Fernando, not Antonio. Said he paid everything in cash and Rich don't check for ID or nothing. As long as you pay rent, he don't care who you are."

"Is Rich here?" Elizaveta asks in hushed tones as well. "I need to ask him some things."

The woman opens her mouth, pauses and then furrows her brows at the Hungarian. "Are you the cops? 'Cause if you are, you can't use anything I said here. I know my rights and you ain't shown me no badge."

"No, no, I'm not the cops, I swear." She tries to reassure the woman, who looks even more skeptical. "Antonio is a friend of a friend of mine who's missing. He said if I needed anything I could call him, but I haven't talked to Toni in a while and I need to find him."

The woman eyes her again and pushes off the wall. "You don't look like the cops, but," she purses her lips. "Ain't nothing free in this world, not even info."

Elizaveta blinks. The woman smirks as they stare at each other for a moment before she gets it. Sighing, the brunette reaches in her pants pockets and pulls out a twenty. "That's all I got."

The woman snatches the twenty and stuffs it in her bra. "First floor, apartment five and you didn't hear this from me." With that, she steps back and closes the door.

Elizaveta starts down the stairs, going to the first floor, apartment five. She knocks once, with no answer then knocks again until the door cracks open, a chain stopping it from opening all the way. A black guy stands in the crack and, just as the woman did early, eyed her suspiciously.

"Who you?" he asks.

"Are you Rich?" Elizaveta counters.

"Depends on who's asking."

She feels around in her pockets and finds the rest of her money. He tries to peek and see just what she's doing and Elizaveta finally holds the hundred up so he can see. "Benjamin," she answers finally.

The door closes and opens again after a few seconds. Elizaveta walks in and Rich closes the door behind her. The place is small but organized, something she wasn't expecting.

"What you looking for here, lil girl?" Rich says, and she turns to see him standing by the door. She hadn't noticed just a few seconds ago, but the man was very tall, heavyset and could take her easily if he so chose. She swallows the nervousness attempting to build in her gut and stares him down.

"I'm trying to find someone, the guy that lived in apartment 35 on the third floor before your new tenant," she says. He holds out his hand and she hands him the money. Rich holds it up to the light, and after a few seconds, shoves it in his pocket.

"Guy's name was Fernando," he states, going to a file cabinet that sits next to the TV. "Didn't have any papers, just told me his name and handed over three months' rent. Made him sign a month by month lease and he stayed there for maybe five months."

"Papers?"

"ID, bank statement, address verification, social security card," he clarifies as he goes through the files and pulls one out. "Don't ask no shit won't be no shit, that's what I say. Here."

Elizaveta takes the file and opens it. It's thin, not much info in there but a name, Fernando Vargas, a birthday and a leasing contract. Vargas? She knows this name.

"Rich," she calls, a bit distracted as she memorizes a cell number. "Did he live with anyone or did he rent this place alone?"

"That's gonna cost you," he says, smiling.

Elizaveta looks up at him now. "I just gave you a hundred." She states indignantly.

"Yeah, and I just gave you classified info. Anything else is extra."

She frowns, shoves him the file and reaches in her pockets again. "All I got is a twenty."

He snorts. "Then you get twenty dollars worth of info."

"And how much is that worth?"

Rich takes the money, then answers. "He lived by himself but had people over almost every night. That's twenty dollars worth of info."

"That's all I need," She smirks and he returns the gesture as she walks to the door.

"Ah," Rich calls before she leaves, "How'd you find me?"

Elizaveta grins, "That's twenty dollars worth of info."

He chuckles then, nods and sends her on her way. Elizaveta takes out her phone, as she exits the building, saving the phone number from Rich's file as she walks past the courtyard and outside to the sidewalk. The sun peeks through the clouds slightly and there are more people outside. She ignores them and goes on casually, toward the garage where her car is.

"Shit," some guy says and jumps up from a group of four boys kneeling on the corner. Elizaveta pauses as the guys scramble to gather whatever they had on the ground, stuffing things in their pockets before they all look away from her general direction. What the…? Before she could fully turn to see, Alfred grabs her by the arm and starts to pull her along.

"What the hell?" Elizaveta demands as she finds herself face to face with the hood of his car once again, "I haven't done anything!"

"Keep your head down," Alfred commands, saying nothing else as he pats her down.

She huffs, "I haven't violated my probation. Last time I checked, it isn't a crime for me to leave my house."

He replies to her statement by slapping handcuffs on her wrist, forcing her around to face him. "What were you doing here, Ms. Hedervary?"

Elizaveta grunts, tugs at the cuffs and then glares at him but say nothing.

Alfred's frown deeps and he closes the distance between them, leaning on hand, which he'd placed against the side of the car next to her.

"I'm only asking one more time," he warns, "Why were you here?"

"And I'm not saying anything. I'm not under arrest. I haven't done anything and I don't have to tell you anything. I know my rights."

Something like annoyance dances in Alfred's eyes. He doesn't move and they stare at each other. Elizaveta tries to keep her breath steady but, in truth, despite his carefree demeanor, the look in his eyes is intimidating. She holds his gaze for what seems like forever before he grips her arms and pulls her off the car.

"You're coming with me." He finally says, and shoves her in the back seat before she can object and speeds off from the area.

The car ride is silent and Elizaveta is never so grateful to see Vash in her life, though the man looked less than pleased when she plopped in the chair next to his desk. He looks up from his computer, frowns and rubs the bridge of his nose.

"Do I want to ask?" Vash asks as he sits back in his leather chair.

"He arrested me for no reason," Elizaveta exclaims, outraged and clearly pissed. "I was walking, minding my damn business and he just grabs me."

Ignoring her language, the man goes on, "Where were you?'

"107th and 35th." She grumbles and glares at the trashcan by her feet.

"107th & 35th," Vash repeats, "What the hell were you doing down there?'

She shrugs, "Visiting a friend…"

Vash tisks at her answer. "You went to a private high school, an out-of-state Ivy League university. Your high school tuition alone could pay rent down three for almost two years. Unless you lived a double-life, you wouldn't have friends from there."

"How do you think I met Gil?"

"Are you being funny?"

"You don't know everybody I know, Vash. Not all of my friends are lacrosse players and aspiring politicians. I know normal people."

That answer seems to appease her friend for now, as Vash only sighs and opens a drawer. "Office Jones has the right to arrest you if he suspects you of doing something suspicious. Being on 107th & 35th is about as suspicious as an upper class, rich woman can get. Unless you're buying drugs, there isn't a reason for you to go there. But that isn't why he brought you here. I called for you to come."

Elizaveta sits up a bit straighter. "So you ordered him to arrest me?"

"To bring you," He corrects and drops a folder on her desk, "The arresting thing is still justified but look at this." He opens the folder, flips a few pages until he comes upon what looks like a bank statement. Elizaveta glances at it, reads over the numbers then looks to Vash to explain.

"How long have you and Gilbert dated?" Vash asks, twirling a pen his hand.

She thinks for a moment. "A little over two years, why?"

"And did he have a job when you meet him?" the man continues without answering her question.

"He did welding down at the docks for about a year," she explains, "But the company had to make some cuts and since he was new they let him go. He's had some odd jobs here and there but for the last couple months he's been out of work."

Vash nods, "Did he tell you how long he worked at the docks?"

"Why are you asking me this?"

He points to the bank statement. "Gilbert opened this account about four years ago with $500. Reasonable amount, nothing too suspicious." He scrolls down a list of deposits, "Since then he's made several deposits over the course of a year, all varying in amounts, the highest one being $2,000."

Elizaveta looks doubtfully at her friend, "Okay, so he has a bank account, with money in it. That's not a crime."

Vash continues as he points to a withdrawal, "This is the first withdrawal from the account, a year after it was opened, the same amount every month since. This is his rent for that crummy apartment you live, $359, the only withdrawals, minus a few restaurants here and there. There are deposits though and they raise in numbers until," he turns the page and points to a figure, "Until it's up to thirty grand."

He pauses and Elizaveta eyes the figure. It's a hefty sum. "He said he worked at the welding company so maybe—,"

"We called them," Vash interrupts, and drops another paper in front of her, "He started working there a few months before he met you I'm guessing. Which means, he was living in that apartment before he had a job. Problem is, Gilbert didn't have any job history when he applied. He's smart though."

Vash goes to the bank statements again, turning several pages until gets to last year. " He doesn't make big deposits until he actually has a job. This number," he points with his pen, "is the direct deposit from the welding company, $985 a month over the course of a year, but this is his current balance, nearly half a million dollars. Subtracting $359 from $985, and you won't make half a million in one year. Plus, he's been making deposits this year even though he is currently unemployed. Where is he getting this money?"

Elizaveta backs up from the paper and sits back in her chair. She tries to think, tries to reason. Half a million dollars, that's no pocket change. Gilbert never seemed to be short of money or bothered by it either, and now she can see why. "Maybe," she tries, eyes downcast as she thinks, and "Maybe it's an inheritance or something?"

Vas grunts. "We'd know if it was that. The better question is, how does he pay for the rest of his expenses, car note, phone bill, food, clothes, dates; the only thing deducted from this account is rent. Everything else is deposit. Have you noticed any money missing from your account?"

"No," Elizaveta says defensively, "He would never steal from me."

"Do you give him money?"

"He always has his own and pays for almost everything in cash. He hates using his card." The admission feels like a betrayal but Elizaveta is just as confused as Vash. Half a million dollars…how? Where did he get that kind of money?

Vash stands and she jumps at the sudden movement as he stretches, "Your boyfriend either had some real generous friends or he got a stash of money illegally where it can't be traced." He grabs his coffee mug and looks down at her.

"Your mother called me. She said she's been trying to get in contact with you. They're having a dinner party this weekend and she wants you to come."

"Yeah, I bet," Elizaveta counters, and stands as well, "I need a ride back to 107th, my car is still there."

Vash nods but adds, "It might be good for you to go, to get your mind of this."

She crosses her arms over her chest and answers, "I would ask whose side are you on, but I know already."

Vash just shakes his head. "I'll drop you off in a minute."

As soon as Elizaveta is home she goes straight for her laptop. The little run-in with both Alfred and Vash was an unexpected bump in the road. The information Vash gave her about Gilbert's account was a surprise but she doesn't have time to ponder too much on that at the moment. She carries the laptop to the kitchen table. While she waits for it to load, she starts the coffee machine. Barely out of her clothes, Elizaveta paces the floor as the water heats up quickly, and the room fills with the bubbling sound of boiling water.

She goes to the cupboard and grabs a coffee mug, but pauses at the computer.

She opens the Internet browser and types in the last name 'Vargas'. As results popped up, she poured herself her coffee. A number of articles appear. Elizaveta leans over the laptop, ignoring the chair directly next to her and sits her cup down so she can click on the first link. The page opens, and the first thing she sees is a picture of man with dark auburn colored hair and hazel eyes with hints of green in it. He's dressed in a suit, frowning and looking disgruntled into the camera. She scrolls down, and reads the first bit of the article that's dated almost a year ago.

"Lovino Vargas has been acquitted today in a first-degree murder trial after being accused of murdering Ivan Braginski and his wife Natalya. The first generation Italian immigrant upheld his innocence plea from the time the trail began, stating that they only reason he was a suspect is because of his family name. The Vargas family has been famous in Italy, particularly in the southern region of Puglia for being linked to unsolved murders and various other crimes…"


A/N: Seriously, I really hate the way they've set up this new copy and paste thing. I don't want to copy and paste, save, then go to editing in order to do what I could on copy and paste originally! Is there somewhere I can complain about this? Anyways, yay! New chapter, new suspects and new question, anybody wanna take a guess at what the heck is going on in Heta? Why did Antonio change is name? Just who is this 'Lovino Vargas'? Where did Gilbert get all of this money? More importantly, where the heck is Gilbert? As the song says, more money more problems!

-CeCe ^^