Chapter 17: Revelations

Missy backed up until she had nowhere left to go. It couldn't be. Her disguise had been absolute. How could he have recognized her? Cornered against the liquor cabinet, she realized what deep trouble she was in. He could have her arrested with one word into his duty radio.

"Butch, hi dearie, it's nice to see you again," she chuckled, flashing a nervous grin. "Officer Drychek, isn't it?"

He nodded, sipping on his beer calmly. He knew he had all the leverage.

"But…h-how did you–?" she stammered.

"Your voice," he replied gruffly. "I came here to check out the bar and recognized your voice."

"Ah," Missy flushed, gripping the liquor counter behind her with white knuckles. "Yes, I see," she breathed, deflated. She had spoken in a Kapponian accent when she first met him, but obviously it wasn't convincing enough. She swallowed hard, choosing her next words carefully. "Can I, uh, can I get you another beer?"

"Yeah, I'll take one," he accepted. He leaned back into his tall bar chair, relaxed. Smirking slightly, he relished the look of fear on her face. He wanted to make her sweat. The tables had turned.

Missy quickly poured him another mug at the tap and set it down in front of him. "On the house," she smiled meekly. Tension hung in the air like smog.

"I've been thinking since we last met, Missy," he started. "Why would somebody go through all the trouble to kidnap a police officer and steal the evidence from the Time Lord case?" He pondered, tracing a scaly finger around the rim of his glass. "What is there to gain?"

He looked her straight in the eye. "The Doctor is dead…" he trailed off. "Or is he?"

Missy gulped audibly. She had screwed up big time. Their little charade was in shambles. Her goose was cooked.

Butch enjoyed watching her face pale. She did not have a good poker face. She couldn't help it, she always wore her emotions on her sleeve. He grinned. Revenge was so sweet.

"Relax, Missy, you look so tense," he teased with a dark snicker.

Relaxing was the last thing on her mind. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. The knot in her stomach tightened. Why hadn't he called the police already? What was he waiting for? She crooked her lip. She knew he was savoring this, toying with her. If she were in his position, she would do the same thing.

He sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. The room suddenly felt too hot. Missy adjusted her collar, trying to cool off. The air tingled against her skin like static, charged with electricity.

Butch took a swig of his beer before setting it down with a satisfied smack of his lips. "I've decided that I'm on your side," he deadpanned, nonchalant.

Missy jerked her head up. Did she hear that right? After all she had done to him? "I…I don't follow, darling," she stuttered, astonished. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged casually. "I have reason to believe the Doctor was innocent."

Missy's eyebrows shot up into her hairline. The police admitting they were wrong? Impossible, especially on this high-strung planet.

"During my rounds at the prison, I heard something," he began. He tapped a finger to a pointed ear. "I'm a good listener, you see."

"Clearly," she muttered.

"A prisoner we picked up off the streets was placed into a group cell," he explained, fidgeting with his claws. "Quite the blabbermouth, I heard him talking to his cellie. He was bragging about a big frame job he had just pulled."

"A frame job?" Missy questioned, incredulous. She hadn't thought of that possibility.

"He said that he framed a Time Lord," he continued, nursing his foamy drink. "As far as I know, only one Time Lord has been arrested recently– the Doctor."

"But why would somebody frame the Doctor?" she asked. "Well," she rolled her eyes, "other than me."

"There is this extremist group called 'The Faction,'" he frowned, a disdained look on his face. "They seek to deport all alien life from this planet. They blame all of Kappon's woes on foreigners. They're xenophobic bastards and especially hate Time Lords. I've caught them doing this before."

He set down the glass, crossing his arms over the bartop. "The prisoner was a confirmed member."

"Okay, but how would they have framed him?" Missy wondered aloud, only halfway buying his story. "All of the evidence appears to be absolute." She rested her hands against her hips in frustration. "I tested it again and found nothing that deviated from the original police report."

"Ah," he snorted knowingly. "There is something you don't know about Kapponians, Missy." He gestured to the side of his head purposefully. "Some of us are telepathic."

Realization dawned on Missy's face. Her jaw nearly dropped to the floor. She saw where this was going. "You think they committed the crime and then implanted false memories into his mind to make him think he did it?"

Butch shrugged, gulping down more of his drink. "It's only a hunch. I've been investigating them for the past few months. I knew they were planning something big. Killing the Doctor would certainly send a message."

"No kidding," Missy mumbled. The news had spread across the universe like wildfire.

"Unfortunately," he sighed regretfully, "I have no way of proving it. There were no witnesses." He chuffed to himself ruefully. "You would need a time machine to find out what really happened."

"Yeah, that would be great, wouldn't it?" Missy quipped, almost a little too quickly. If only the Tardis worked. They'd have this mystery sorted in no time.

Warily, she studied the young Kapponian, unable to detect any hint of deceit on his face. As the queen of lies, she was a master at identifying a liar. She could not believe her luck. This was critical information. By all accounts, he should hate her for what she did to him. She pointed to her chest. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I have a conscience," he stated absolutely, looking her dead in the eyes. "The justice system on this planet is a joke."

Anger flashed over his reptilian features. "I have seen far too many people executed only to later find out they were innocent. The mountains are full of the bodies of innocent people. Sentences are draconian and swiftly carried out. There are no appeals, and the trials are unfair." He crossed his arms. "I don't believe in it."

"A high profile case like this…" he trailed off with a sigh. What he faced was nearly impossible. He tapped his fingers to the bartop, claws clicking against the steel. "If I can prove that the Doctor was wrongly executed, maybe it will force this damned planet into making some changes."

Finishing his beer, he set it down on the countertop. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and produced a single copper coin from his pocket. He placed it next to the empty glass. "I have to go now, but I will meet you back here in a few days." He stood up from the chrome and vinyl chair, gripping the back of it. "I want this resolved just as much as you do."

Without another word, he slinked away. The bell above the door dinged cheerfully on his way out. Missy could do nothing but stare in his direction, stunned.

Perhaps the Doctor was innocent after all.

A/n: The plot thickens. Don't forget to review! We're about halfway through.