Johnny and I did end up having a girls' night in, which was actually really nice. We watched a bunch of cheesy movies (most of which I can happily say were from Johnny's collection) and we had a good old bitching session about boys and work.

I bought a bottle of vodka that we completely demolished between the two of us. Johnny wanted to do my nails, which I rejected point blank. I'm glad that I can still maintain some standards even when drunk. We also snacked. A lot. We tried making one of those five-minute microwave cakes in a mug... It really didn't work. I still ate most of the spongy mess – cake was cake, after all. Johnny refused to believe it was even edible, let alone cake.

So I went to bed, and woke up the next morning, feeling like the room was spinning. Oh, yay.

I was also really cold. I rolled over slowly – it's not a good idea to make any sudden movements when you're hungover– and found Johnny lying next to me. Well, that explained why I was cold. I normally wouldn't bed-share with Johnny (he's a notorious covers hog) but I was obviously much easier to persuade when I was drunk.

And I noticed he'd chucked all my poor wolves out onto the floor. I frowned at his drunken sleeping face (drunken sleeping faces are a lot more amusing than normal sleeping faces). I groaned and very reluctantly pulled myself out of bed. If I didn't get a glass of water into my system soon, I was pretty sure I was going to die... In case you didn't know, being hungover also tends to make you a little overdramatic.

I went into the bathroom and slowly washed my face with cold water. I ducked past the mirror. I'm not a vain person at all, but even I don't ever want to see my zombie-like hangover face. Johnny would be allowed to when he got up (whenever that would be) but only because he'd be in the same state as me. The thought that I wouldn't be suffering alone made me feel a little better.

After getting a glass of water from the kitchen, I spent the next half hour sat in the lounge, staring absent-mindedly at the photos on the walls. I'd force myself to do something in a minute. If I could get through my hangover without actually throwing up, then I could put up with the other aches and pains that came with it.

Within the following hour, I'd managed to get myself dressed - Johnny was still fast asleep, the lucky bastard - and dragged my butt downstairs to my office. I pulled papers and a pen out of my desk, sat down and started laboriously writing up every little thing we'd discovered on the Kasagi case so far. The worst thing you can do when you've got a hangover is nothing. Give yourself some work to concentrate on and it's much easier to tolerate.

Sure, the first hour of forcing my brain to work straight felt like a living hell, but I did start to feel a lot better after a while. I still had a bit of a headache, but now I felt safe to take some painkillers without having to worry about puking them back up. I even felt confident enough to have an energy drink out of my mini fridge.

After I'd written down everything I could think of, I found out my laptop from underneath the desk and switched it on. While I was waiting for it to load up, I went and fetched my keys from upstairs so that I could unlock the front of my office. I wouldn't want to miss a potential client just because I was feeling a little fragile.

When I returned to my laptop, it finally had life. I searched online for a map of the immediate area and sent my result to the printer in the corner of the room. I then collected the map from the printer, grabbed another energy drink and sat down once more.

Using a red pen, I marked each of the murder locations on the map, wondering if there was maybe some kind of visual pattern I could pick up on. I also marked Shou Tanaka's address with a red asterix just to show that it had also been included in the investigation. While I was working I heard the cat flap rattle in the front door, signalling the arrival of Kyo.

"Hey, Kyo." I greeted him like I would any of my human friends. I don't even find this weird anymore. I've solved most of my previous cases with Kyo as my only accomplice. Trust me; I always have to talk to someone. Even if it is just the cat.

Kyo wound himself round my legs, meowing loudly. "Sorry, Kyo, I can't play right now," I apologised. He just gazed at me imploringly. I couldn't help but cave – I still wasn't in the right frame of mind to resist. "Oh, fine, come on then." I patted my lap. I guessed I could pet him for a little bit whilst I worked.

As usual, Kyo completely ignored what I wanted and hopped straight up onto my desk. I sighed. And there was me trying to be nice. "Rip any of these papers and you're dead, cat," I warned. Kyo just gave me a disdainful look in response and continued padding around my desk.

Sighing again, I leant forward on the desk and rested my chin on my arms. My head felt clearer already – I sure knew how to battle a hangover. I only wished I could battle this case just as easily. Kyo started meowing again so I blew air in his face. He gave me another disapproving stare, but at least he did shut up.

"Give me a break, Kyo," I lamented. "I don't know what to do with this case now. It's only been a few days and I'm already at a loss. We have no more leads to follow and we really didn't find out much from the leads we did have in the first place... I can't keep hassling Gibs; he'll let me know as soon as we've got something. But what am I supposed to do until then?"

Kyo looked almost like he understood as he gazed at me through his amber cat eyes, purring rhythmically. I smiled as he mewed and cautiously touched his nose to mine. He could be so damn cute when he wanted to be... Then he promptly sneezed in my face.

"Oh, gross, Kyo!" I complained, jerking back and making him jump and yowl. I grabbed him before he could send too many papers flying and looked him directly in the eye. "Why did you have to do that? You were being so cute and you know I've already been having a tough morning..."

I was interrupted mid rant by the office door opening. I quickly dropped Kyo back onto the desk as I looked up, trying not to glare at the intruder. I mean, come on; I have a doorbell out there for a reason. And let's face it; I'd just been caught having a conversation with a cat. That wasn't really the image I wanted to get across to potential customers.

Plus I was still marginally hungover and more than a little crabby this morning.

"Can I help you?" I asked, a little frostier than I'd intended, still trying my best to keep the accusatory stare to a minimum level. I wasn't entirely sure if it was working.

My intruder was a scruffy-looking youth – he didn't look like my usual kind of client. I say youth; he was probably around the same age as me. And damn, referring to someone as a youth makes me sound really old... Maybe I won't do that again.

"Sorry for interrupting, but do you know the way to Kansai-Kan Library? I don't know this area very well and I'm meant to be there in about fifteen minutes," the guy explained in a smooth, but fairly flat tone.

I raised my eyebrows. He didn't seem in much of a rush to me. But still, I didn't want to give myself any bad publicity by annoying him. Word of mouth was very important to a business like mine. Plus I'd remembered I still had the maps page up on my laptop. It wouldn't be difficult to help him.

"I can print you a map if you like?" I offered. "I'm just in the middle of using some right now."

"Yes, thank you. That would be great," he said in the same almost bored tone.

I frowned. Ignoring the annoying lack of enthusiasm, he sounded kind of familiar... But then he didn't at the same time. Like when you recognise a voice actor in a new anime, but you expect their voice to be slightly different because you're thinking of another character they've voiced... I know, I know, Gee's nerd side strikes again.

I pushed my geeky thoughts aside. "Just give me a minute." I pulled my laptop towards me, zooming in on the page and enlarging the section of the map I'd need to give to this guy.

I glanced over the top of my laptop and saw him peering at the map already on my desk that I'd been using to mark the murder scenes of the Kasagi killer. Crap... I hoped he was just being nosy, rather than purposely trying to decipher anything from it.

Though I didn't know why I was worrying. It wouldn't mean anything to an outsider. And the only people who even knew about the case besides myself were Gibson, Kenichi, Chad and L.

I froze. Everything suddenly clicked into place. I knew exactly why his voice sounded familiar. I only had to imagine it layered with voice filters. But it couldn't be... could it?

By this point, he'd noticed me staring at him. "Is everything okay?" he asked, still monotonous.

There was no doubt about it – it was the same level-pitched voice I'd tried to argue with yesterday. Even without the voice emulators, I could still recognise it. Shit, this guy really was L! This must be something to do with the test he'd mentioned. I forced myself to regain my composure and managed to motion towards the chair opposite me. "Maybe you should take a seat..."

His expression didn't change, but he unquestioningly closed the front door behind him and followed my hand. Rather than actually sitting in the chair I'd indicated, he stepped up onto it and sank into a crouch, balancing on the seat. I raised an eyebrow, but I didn't comment on it. To be honest, I was still in shock.

"You'll be pleased to know you passed my test," he finally said. "I almost thought you were going to miss the opportunity."

Yeesh. Even without voice filters, he still sounded like a robot. He just seemed to lack all emotion. It was kind of unnerving. And was that all his test had been? Just having to be able to recognise him in person? I wouldn't admit it to anyone else, but I was actually quite pleased with myself, especially for managing it in my hungover state.

"Yeah, you'll have to come up with more of a challenge next time," I replied in what I hoped was a blasé way. Oh, whatever, I was allowed to gloat a little bit.

"I'll make sure to do that," promised L in the same deadpan tone. Not even the smallest hint of humour. Damn, this was going to be hard to get used to. I already teased Kenichi for having the emotional range of a teaspoon. Compared to L, he was a riot.

I couldn't seem to stop staring at him, though I swear I was trying my best not to. I just didn't know what to think. He was younger than I'd expected. I reckoned I was older than him, if only by a year or so. The thought did make me a little miffed.

He was very pale and skinny and he'd probably be quite tall if he didn't seem to hunch over so much. His black hair fell about his face in a crazy disarray and his eyes were big and endlessly dark, underlined with grey shadows. Overall, he reminded me of a rather dreary-looking scarecrow.

I was also finding it hard to ignore the weird way he was sitting, though his blank expression made me not want to comment on it. I'm normally pretty good at judging a person's character and psyching them out... But L's face was completely unreadable – it gave me nothing to go on. I almost wanted to poke him to check he wasn't made of stone.

I didn't, obviously. Somehow I didn't think he'd appreciate it.

"So now that we're going to be working together in person, where would you like to continue operating the case from?" I asked, figuring I may as well just get down to business. Also I was hoping that having something to discuss would keep me from staring at him like he was an animal in the zoo.

"Well, if you don't mind, I actually think this office would be the most suitable location for now," replied L.

I shrugged. "Sure. That's fine with me." Actually it was more than fine. It meant my bed was only just upstairs and I'd have a constant supply on energy drinks on the job.

"This street is fairly quiet, but it's public enough so that it shouldn't be particularly noticeable for me to continue to visit," L continued.

Sounded logical for someone who seemed so paranoid about appearing in public. No wonder he was so pale. I was pretty sure this must have been the first time he'd ventured out from behind his computer screen in quite a while.

I wondered if he did actually blend in like he obviously intended to. He wore just a long-sleeved white top, plain jeans and a pair of beaten-up old trainers. I doubted I'd look twice at him if I passed him on the street. But then the more I looked at him, the more unusual he seemed and in the end, I couldn't imagine him doing anything but sticking out like a sore thumb. And the way he sat didn't help him appear any more normal.

I nodded along with his explanation. "So are you going to give me a way that I can get in touch with you?"

L looked at me, completely stone-faced, before saying very seriously, "I will give you a number and I am only going to give it to you once. I am not willing to write it down and I'll ask you to do the same, for fear of it possibly being misplaced."

I was a little insulted by that. I tried not to show it. "I can remember it," I said stiffly.

L nodded and compliantly recited a number to me, which I made sure I paid my utmost attention to. It was a strange number – it wasn't the right amount of digits for either a cell phone or a landline.

"That's not a phone number, is it?" I said uncertainly, once I was sure I had the sequence of numbers safely memorised.

"It's a pager number," said L. "The pager belongs to my handler, Watari. If he receives a page, he will inform me straightaway."

Hell, I didn't even own a pager. I'd have to invest in one as soon as possible. Or maybe there was an app I could find for my iPhone. They had them for the most obscure things now, after all. Johnny even had one that could locate the nearest Gaydar-app-using homosexual guy within a five-mile radius.

Crap! Johnny. I'd completely forgotten he was still upstairs. I couldn't even consider what L would think if an attractive (I hated to admit it, but Johnny was a looker) hungover and/or possibly still drunken guy stumbled down into my office from upstairs. I'd just have to hope he was either still asleep or too preoccupied with his own hangover-based self pity to bother me.

I tried not to freak out at the thought and instead concentrated on what L had just been saying. "Watari?" I repeated. Did I finally have a name for the mysterious man with the hat? "Is that the guy who's been hanging around Gibson's office lately?"

"The very one," confirmed L, not even showing whether he was or wasn't surprised that I'd noticed him in the first place. Man, he really didn't give any emotions away. I had a feeling that was going to be a pain in the ass. "Watari is the only person who knows how to get in contact with me. He's also the only one who's able to calibrate my computer connection to another person's."

That explained why it had always taken so long for Gibson to get to a direct conversation with L. He'd have had to get in touch with Watari first, have him contact L, wait for Watari to turn up at the police station and then wait for him to set up the connection to his laptop. So he must have had the pager number too. I wondered how he'd gotten hold of it. It was obvious that L didn't give it out on a regular basis.

Putting that aside, there was another question that was weighing more on my mind. After all, there were more people involved on this case than just me. "What about Gibson?" I asked. "And Kenichi and Chad? Are you willing to work with them in person too? We're all on the same team, remember."

This actually looked like the first question L had to think about. "Originally, I did want to keep this kind of meeting to an absolute minimum. But I somehow get the feeling that you won't drop this point so easily."

I couldn't help but grin at that comment. Turned out people didn't even have to know me for my stubbornness to get across. Then again, L had been on the receiving end of one of my rants already.

"You wouldn't be wrong there," I smiled. "Plus I think it's only fair. Gibson's put a lot of trust and patience in you on this case. Not to mention the amount of extra hours he's been working. It's the least he deserves. All three of them are really trustworthy officers and it'd just make the whole thing a lot easier to work."

Thankfully, L stopped me from needing to dive into another rant. "There's no need for you to argue your point further. I am willing to work alongside Mr. Gibson, Mr. Takano and Mr. Priestley also. Now that you have a way to contact me yourself, please feel free to set up a meeting for all of us. I assure you that I am quite flexible."

I actually had to bite my tongue to keep myself from making a 'that's what she said' related joke. I blamed Johnny for that influence. Who I was still hoping wasn't going to appear down the stairs anytime soon.

Instead, I said, "Sure. I'll arrange something with Gibson later today."

L nodded and his gaze returned to the papers on my desk. "I see you're devoting yourself entirely to this case."

"Yeah, well, workaholic is my middle name," I said offhandedly. It was getting harder to concentrate fully on the conversation. I was becoming increasingly paranoid about the Johnny issue. Months ago, I would have given anything for the chance to meet the famous L... Now I kinda just wanted him to bugger off so that I could relax.

"I was under the impression that your middle name was smart-ass," commented L, as impassive as ever.

"Excuse me?" I gaped at him, shocked and more than a little offended.

"That's what you said yesterday in your conversation with Mr. Gibson anyway," L pointed out.

Oh, great. Did he have an eidetic memory or was he just annoyingly creepy and remembered every little thing that was said? I couldn't even remember saying it myself. But then my mind wasn't exactly at its best this morning.

"You'll have to forgive me; my mind's a little fragile right now," I confessed, massaging my temples. I'd felt like my headache had been disappearing, but conversing with L seemed to bring it right back.

Before L could even comment on my confession to being hungover, he suddenly stiffened and looked down at the floor. Bewildered, I leant across the desk to see what he could possibly be looking at and saw Kyo reaching up the chair and trying to claw at his jeans.

I groaned. "Kyo, you stupid cat! What do you think you're doing?"

I went round to retrieve said cat. I'd forgotten he was even here. And he wasn't too impressed when I dragged him away. He managed to wriggle out of my arms and stalked off and out through the cat flap without a backward glance.

"Sorry. That cat has a thing for denim," I told L, even though he didn't look the slightest bit bothered by what had just happened.

"That's quite alright," said L tonelessly, stepping off the chair and straightening up out of his crouch. "Now that we have made our arrangements, I must be going. I'll leave you to the after effects of your alcohol intake and what I'm presuming is a male friend you have upstairs."

I stared at him, surprised and more than a little embarrassed. How the hell had he known that Johnny was upstairs? And I really wasn't impressed with the emphasis he'd put on the word 'male'. Now he was probably thinking I kept guys tucked away on a regular basis. Damn him.

The worst part was he'd stumped me into having absolutely no response to that comment. L left the office without another word and I just sat there gaping like a goldfish.

"Damn you, L..." I muttered to myself. I honestly couldn't have said if I was happy or not about how this meeting had just gone down. And I had a horrible feeling that this was just a taster for things to come.

XXX

I was left to fume by myself for a good hour before Johnny finally emerged. In that time, I'd downed another two energy drinks. I'd never been happier to see my best friend. Unfortunately, he obviously didn't feel the same.

"Urgh. I feel like I got hit by a homophobic train," Johnny groaned, dropping into the chair that L had used earlier and closing his eyes.

I bit my lip, trying not to smile. Normally, I don't pity hangovers seeing as they're self-inflicted. But then I could hardly judge when I'd been feeling the same way just a few hours ago. Yeah, I can be a total hypocrite when it suits me.

"Want me to give you a lift home?" I offered sympathetically.

Johnny opened his eyes and gave me an adoring look. "I love you so much."

I laughed. "Of course you do; I'm amazing." I checked the time on my laptop before shutting it down and putting it back in one of the drawers, along with the papers I'd been working on. It had been long enough since I'd last consumed any alcohol to be safe enough for me to drive. I locked the desk up. "Come on, I'll help you get all your stuff together."

Whilst we went round gathering Johnny's crap that was lying around in my apartment, I launched into a rant about what had happened with L. Much to my annoyance, Johnny wasn't acting very supportive and didn't even seem to be listening to me.

"Hey! Have you even heard a word I just said?" I nagged, throwing his body spray at him. He didn't react quick enough to catch it, unsurprisingly. It bounced off his chest and clattered to the floor.

"Sorry, honey; I'm really not with it right now," Johnny apologised, bending to retrieve the body spray and rubbing his head with his other hand.

I tried to swallow my irritation. Friend or not, Johnny could be selfish when he wanted to be. But I told myself this was only because he was hungover. I'd just have to ring him tomorrow and tell him everything again. So help him if he didn't pay attention a second time.

So rather than getting annoyed at him, I just said, "Never mind. Have you got everything now?"

I left Johnny to double check his inventory whilst I fitted on my shoulder holster and clipped my Browning Hi-Power onto it. I pulled my trench coat on over the top, which was my usual method of concealing it. I'd be lost without my gun. I rarely went anywhere without it.

By this point, we were both all set. I locked the office up after me. I actually felt a little better just for being outside. The fresh air obviously had no effect on Johnny, however – he still looked like death warmed up. He was going to be in some serious trouble if he puked in my car. I was glad his house wasn't too far from here.

"You really need to upgrade your taste in music," Johnny told me once we were driving.

"Why would I want to do that?" I said stiffly. I didn't like it when he started picking on my musical preferences.

"Because this sounds so old!" Johnny complained.

"That's because it's from the eighties," I said in a patronising tone. The current CD in my car was one of my Tears For Fears albums. Possibly my favourite band. "To you, that probably is old."

Johnny continued to grouch the rest of the way and I continued to give him more snarky responses. I refused to change the CD. When we got to Johnny's place, he all but fell out of the car with his man-purse. Oh, I'm sorry, I mean satchel, as he's always telling me.

"Call me tomorrow," I told him through the open window. I didn't see why I should have to do everything. "Try not to pass out and choke on your own vomit."

"I love you too," he replied sarcastically, though he still waved me off as I continued on my way.

I headed to the police station rather than straight back home. I needed to give Gibson an update on what had happened. In my annoyance over L's parting comment, I'd forgotten the promising turn our meeting had brought to the case. Suddenly excited, I parked up in a rush and practically charged straight into Gibson's office without bothering the receptionist.

He was surprised by my sudden appearance. "Hey, Gee, is everything okay? You nearly broke my door down."

"L's finally on our team!" I burst out, feeling pleased. I then launched into a recount on everything that had been said and what L had agreed to.

Gibson looked impressed and gave me a wide smile. I hadn't actually realised how long it had been since I'd seen him look so optimistic. "That's great news! Well done, Gee. Really well done."

I grinned back at him. "Thanks a lot!" I was just about to ask him about the pager issue but he cut me off excitedly.

"So what's he like? How old is he? Was he anything like you expected?" Gibson questioned, curiosity burning in his eyes. He sounded like a little kid wanting to know more about Santa Claus.

"Nothing like I expected," I said truthfully. "It was kinda hard to pinpoint his age... I'd guess close to mine. Maybe a bit younger." That idea still grated on me a little. When it came to working cases with other people, I was used to being the young prodigy. I didn't want someone stealing my place.

"And what was he like in general?" Gibson pressed.

I hesitated. Should I embellish the truth for now so it'd be amusing when he found out for himself? Or should I give him a little insight so he'd know what to expect?

I went for the latter. "Honestly? He's... odd. Really odd. He looks like something out of a Tim Burton movie, he doesn't sit properly, he talks like a robot... You wouldn't think you'd look twice at him, but then, at the same time, he's the most unusual person I've ever met." Oh, great, I was starting to rant again.

Gibson seemed highly amused by my answer. I didn't like the look he was giving me. "So do you approve?"

I thought it over. "I'm not sure," I admitted. "I do respect him as a detective. But as a person, I think he's gonna be a pain in my ass."

Gibson laughed. "Oh, Gee, you're probably the only person who could make a case like this so entertaining."

"Thanks a lot," I said sarcastically. I then remembered what I'd wanted to ask him. "Hey, do you know anywhere nearby I could get a pager from?"

"Oh, of course, I forgot you never bothered to invest in one," said Gibson, almost begrudgingly.

I smiled. "I haven't really needed one before now. You're the only person I know who owns one."

Gibson pretended to be hurt. "And it's not worth you getting a pager just for me?"

"No, not really," I grinned.

Gibson just laughed. He pushed back in his chair so that he could open the top drawer of his desk. "You're about to eat those words, Shidou."

Uh oh. Gibson only called me by my last name when he was feeling particularly smug. "Do your worst," I challenged him.

Smiling, Gibson pulled a tiny black pager from the drawer and held it out to me. "Here you go. You can have this one."

I blinked in surprise, making no move to take it. "But won't you need it?"

"I have another one at home," Gibson replied. He grinned. "A better one."

I grinned too. "Oh dear. Don't tell me you're one of those gadget geeks."

Gibson chuckled. "Hey, what about you? You're the one who has an iPhone."

"You know as well as I do that I can't work half the things on that phone," I laughed. "I only bought one so I could get a Psych cover for it."

Gibson shook his head and tutted. "Very impractical, Gee. Especially for you."

"Oh, bite me." I didn't need to admit that I agreed with him on that one.

"Hey, do you want the pager or not?" said Gibson, waving it in front of my face.

"I want," I admitted, holding my hand out for it.

Gibson pulled the pager back out of my reach. "First, you have to say, 'Tod Gibson, you are without a doubt the greatest, smartest, most sexy man I have ever met'."

I gave him an amused look. "You're in a weird mood today. Has someone been slipping something in your coffee?" Not that I really minded. It was good to see him in such a positive mood. It had been a while since I had.

Gibson smiled. "Call it delirious from having to put up with the crap coffee here."

Huh. I hadn't realised the coffee from the machine wasn't any good. I'd never liked the stuff. Maybe I was just lucky that the hot chocolate here was decent. "If I promise to bring you a Starbucks tomorrow, can I knock sexy off the list?"

Gibson's face brightened. "If you're bringing me Starbucks, then you can have anything you want!"

I grinned. "Well, in that case..." I suddenly leant across the desk and hit Gibson's wrist from underneath. He dropped the pager in surprise and I caught it neatly in my palm. "Thanks, boss!"

"That's cheating," protested Gibson, rubbing his wrist absently.

I just beamed at him. "You already know you're the best. You don't need me to say so."

He looked mollified by that. "Good to hear." His business mode switched back on. "I'll take a look at Kenichi and Chad's rotas so I can figure out a good meeting time for all of us. I'll let you know when I do and you can page L about it."

I was surprised. "Why me? You could just do it yourself."

"Well, you seem to be taking point on this case, so I'll let you deal with contacting L from now on," said Gibson. "Unless it's urgent, of course. In which case, I'll use the quickest means possible."

I should have been grateful that he trusted me with the task, but instead, I just felt bad. Gibson was the one who'd let me on the team. Was I already stealing the case from him? "I'm sorry, Gibs, I didn't mean to do anything out of line. It's your case; I can just..."

Gibson cut me off and laughed. "Don't be silly, Gee. I want you to take point on this. L may be the best in the business, but he's already proved he's going to be awkward to work with. If anyone can get a handle on him, it's you."

I frowned, unsure whether to be happy about that or not. Was he giving me charge of a case or babysitting duty?

He could obviously see my uncertainty, because he added, "This is a good thing. I'm really proud of you, Gee."

"Thanks, boss." I smiled. That really did make me feel better. I respected Gibson more than anyone else I knew, so his faith in me meant a lot. "I just have one more question..."

Gibson smiled back, like he knew what I was going to ask. "Shoot."

"How did you get the pager number?" I asked curiously.

He continued to smile. He had known what I was going to ask and he wasn't going to answer either. "Sorry, Gee. I just gave you a new toy to play with – my generosity isn't limitless."

That was fair. I could always harass him about it another day. "Fair enough. So have you got an instruction manual for this thing?" I waved the pager at him.

Gibson gave me an evil smirk. He knew I wasn't savvy with toys unless they were compatible with bullets or gunpowder. "You're the genius detective. Figure it out yourself."

I scowled. "I'll tell them not to put any whipped cream in your coffee tomorrow."

"Now that's just cruel..."