Stress and Separation

"This is highly suspicious, at the very least," Ciolino says. "When someone commits suicide, there is a lot happening in his life usually. Going to pick up his medication is not the actions of guy who is getting ready to go dust himself. And rich guys don't walk to the suicide place [...] he would be more likely to pull up in a parking lot, go over to a nearby spot and shoot himself. I think he would have left a note, and he wouldn't have tied himself up. There are a lot of things I don't think he would have done if this was, indeed, a suicide."

Outline

So how does our victim off himself, so as to cast suspicion on his wife? Someone on #hg101chat mentioned an episode of Forensic Files where someone shot themselves in the stomach with a shotgun owned by their spouse. We'll roll with that.

As for the actual event of death, let's figure it out from both sides.

The Relationship Guide

James Davenport is an accountant for Mechtronic Systems, a fabrication company that produces silicon wafers. His is a stressful job, as Mechtronic is well known to be deep in debt. The cost of their materials is not getting any cheaper, their workers recently had a walk-out and demanded 5% raises across the board, and James' own job is in serious jeopardy, because his boss, Mr. Siegel, believes that there's no way that the debt can be true, and that he must be holding the company up for more money himself, or else he is incompetent and making a serious mistake with the numbers. At home, his stress gets the better of him, as he is constantly arguing with members of his family, especially his wife, Martha Davenport, whom he strongly suspects is cheating on him. He is overzealous when punishing the kids (sometimes for things they had no part in). He was seeing a therapist about his stress and anger management issues (the latter of which was court-mandated after a civil dispute a month prior to his death). James kills himself in his bedroom, by shooting himself in the stomach with a shotgun that is kept under the bed he shares with his wife. His intention, by way of framing his wife for his death, is to "get back" at her. He feels that death is too good for her, and wants to do one last thing to torment her, and getting her thrown in jail for his murder seems to be the perfect thing.

Martha Davenport was -- up until recently -- a regular housewife and home maker, until James' career difficulties wound up forcing her into the job market herself. She works part-time as a checkout clerk at the Ralph's Supermarket. She tries to be seen as the "good guy" in the arguments she has nightly with James, by trying to stay sympathetic toward the kids. She often resorts to buying candy and other goodies for Brooke and Elmo - and temporarily delimiting Chris's 9 PM curfew - in exchange for them not bringing their domestic disputes to the police. She really just wants what's best for her kids, and upon being arrested on suspicion of murdering James, she insists that she killed him, so as to not draw out the investigation and traumatize the children. She never admits nor denies that she was seeing someone else. The children are not aware of such a thing happening, and I intend it to be rather ambiguous whether she really was or not - though Bastion may figure that it would stand to reason that she'd seek solace in someone else, given how James treated her.

Chris Davenport, 19, is the oldest son of James and Martha Davenport. He is just about to graduate from high school (he was held back a year, because he couldn't do the homework). He is the person who hires Bastion to look into his father's death. He is deeply upset by his parents' constant quarreling, and was actually the person who called the police during a particularly bad fight a month ago, though he does not ever admit this to the rest of his family. Like his mother, all he wants is what's best for the family, especially his sister Brooke, who is just barely on the brink of puberty and really does not need any more headache in her life right now. He strongly believes that his mother is not capable of any violence whatsoever, and his father, while he was an asshole, didn't deserve what he got. All he ever wanted was for his parents to agree on any one thing, and he laments that they never had the chance for that to happen.

Brooke Davenport, 11, is the only daughter of James and Martha Davenport. She is the middle of three siblings, eight years younger than Chris but six years older than younger brother Elmo. She has just finished her last year of Upper Elementary school. She saw her father's corpse and hasn't quite been the same since, becoming much more aggressive and increasingly unable to concentrate on anything. Although she is not a murder suspect (she is unaware that her father owned a gun), she holds nothing back when declaring him the worst person imaginable, and goes as far as to say that he deserves death and nothing more. She is very obviously quite badly affected by what she saw, but refuses to admit that she needs help until she breaks down crying in the middle of a Q&A session.

Elmo Davenport, 5, is the youngest son of James and Martha Davenport, and is strangely unfazed by these proceedings. He does not remember a time when his parents were not arguing with each other about one thing or the other, and is in fact quite cheerful when asked questions. He did not see James' body. He does not seem to realize how nasty death is (making it difficult for Bastion to talk to him), and optimistically muses that this does mean that home life will be quite a bit less loud compared to before. He discovered his father's gun one Christmas season ago, while looking for where his parents hid the presents, and told Chris about it. Elmo got a "My First Sony" tape recorder for his fifth birthday, which he accidentally managed to get a recording of one of his parents' arguments with.

Dr. Jakob Markusson is the therapist who was seeing James prior to his death. He does not believe that James Davenport is capable of killing himself, but does let slip that he believes that the arguments between James and Martha may have lead up to James' death. Being an "expert witness", the police are more likely to take him at his word than they are to believe the kids' testimonies. By the end of the case, Jakob oversees a family session, with the goal of helping Brooke and Elmo come to terms with their father's death.

Mr. Siegel is James Davenport's boss at Mechtronic Systems. He holds James accountable for misplacing millions of dollars from the company's profits and running the company itself into severe debt. He is generally an insufferable prick and will not admit to any personal wrongdoing. Thankfully, he has little to do with the case.

How'd He Pull It Off?

James, not thinking completely clearly, decides to shoot himself in the stomach instead of the head, for two reasons. First, because a head shot would indicate either deliberate suicide, or a professional murder (which Martha is not professional by any stretch). Second, because while he's bleeding out, he has (barely) enough time to throw the shotgun away, so that it is not locked into his hand as rigor mortis sets in. He fails to realize that rigor mortis tends to take several hours to happen. So he faces the master bedroom door, back to the wall, positions the shotgun at his stomach, and pulls the trigger, throwing the gun away from him as hard as possible (the barrel strikes the inside of the bedroom door, which Bastion finds has left a dent in the plywood door). James bleeds out against the wall, with the shotgun lying right next to the door, as if it were held by another shooter (only by way of Martha picking the shotgun up afterwards does it actually end up oriented correctly).

The Police's Perspective

At just before 7:00 PM on Friday, June 11th, 9-1-1 Emergency dispatched police to a house on the southwest side of town. The caller, identifying themselves as Chris Davenport, stated that he and his family heard a loud gunshot from the master bedroom of his house, and that his mother instructed him to call the police. The responding officers found Mr. James Davenport, 48, dead of a shotgun wound to the stomach. A 20 gauge, single-barreled break-action shotgun (registered to James Davenport) was confiscated as evidence. Powder burns surrounding the wound indicate that the victim was shot at close range. The coroner's report says that Mr. Davenport did not die immediately; there was a period of around a minute before he finally bled out. The shotgun itself is covered in blood, with potential fingerprint evidence having been smudged off by the rubber dish-washing gloves that Martha Davenport had been wearing at the time of James' death. Martha was found with many blood stains on her gloves and apron, the smudges from the shotgun seem to correspond to the blood stains on her dish-washing gloves. Therefore, Martha Davenport was arrested for the murder of James Davenport, pending trial.

Bastion's Perspective

The phone call to Bastion comes from Chris Davenport, oldest of the three Davenport children. Before Bastion can get to investigating what exactly happened, Chris insists that the both of them go visit his mother, the accused, to hear her explanation. Bastion agrees to meet Chris at the holding area at the police station.

When Bastion speaks to Martha Davenport to figure out what happened, she is in tears and claims that she shot her husband. Her son, Chris, is adamant that she did not, that the four of them were in the kitchen finishing up dinner when they heard the shotgun. A small argument commences, as Chris declares his mother a clingy idiot who never got the message that her husband never loved her, and Martha demands that Chris not hire Bastion as she is convinced that what Chris is doing will only prolong the pain, suffering, and red tape a lot further. The argument is ended after a number of minutes by the prison guards forcibly ending visiting hours. Bastion, no stranger to the thought of a family being pulled apart like this, agrees to take the case.

Chris finally gets around to explaining what exactly the situation was. His dad, James Davenport, had been extremely irritable (more so than usual, he says) over the last few months. Chris suspects that dad had found out that mom might have been seeing someone else. A week ago, at dinner time, Dad didn't come to the table. The rest of his family ate quietly in the kitchen, and just as Mom was washing the pans, a boom rang out. Mom ran to investigate, and after a few seconds came running back out with blood on her hands (well, rubber gloves), yelling for someone to call the police, as James was dead. Although Martha claims she shot James herself, Chris believes that it may have been an unseen third-party. Bastion must rely on the police and coroner's reports to make any kind of sense of what happened.

Bastion decides that, before he visits the Davenport estate, he get the "official" story from the police detectives. He is once again in contact with Detective Greg Standish, as although he is in charge of Missing Persons, he says he can pull a few strings to get Bastion access to a few bits of the case file. Standish, despite being on the police force, is concerned that the arresting officers may have misinterpreted the evidence. Standish offers a bit of advice, but says he cannot do much else without spawning a conflict of interest within the force. Officers Mitch and Carl also help, in their own way.

Police reports on disturbances between James and Martha Davenport actually go back a whole month. A month ago, a domestic dispute was reported by Chris Davenport. Police made no arrests, but warnings were issued to both parents. The log starts again from a week ago, when James was found dead of a shotgun wound to the stomach that had bled out.

A floor plan diagram of the bedroom shows that James died across from the door leading into the bedroom. A shotgun, the one that shot him, was found by the door, next to the wall (the report specifies that the crime scene unit had to close the door to get the gun). The reconstruction says that the police believe Martha entered the bedroom, shut the door, got the shotgun (that was already loaded), shot James without aiming, dropped the gun on the floor, and then opened the door and ran out in panic, with the door wedging the shotgun against the wall as it opened.

He notices a small discrepancy in the police report - while powder burns were present on James Davenport's stomach from where the shotgun fired, there is no mention of gunshot residue on Martha's dish-washing gloves. Bastion figures that the police just forgot to swab the gloves, so he gets in touch with a guy in the crime lab, and insists that they check the gloves for powder residue. None is found. The lab tech is stumped for a reason why, given the other evidence.

Bastion finds further incongruities. Though blood (James') was found on Martha's gloves, and it roughly corresponds with the smudges on the grips of the shotgun, there is blood on the trigger that would have been smudged off, had Martha tried firing the shotgun with her gloves on. The lab tech argues that perhaps Martha was not wearing the gloves when she shot James, but Bastion's rebuttal is that if that were the case, why would Martha's hands be free of bloodstains and powder residue?

With nothing else in the evidence, Bastion starts to look into what James had been doing prior to his death. Chris attests that the parents had been in yet another verbal argument at dinner, at which point James stormed off to the master bedroom. Ten minutes later, Chris recalls, was when the gunshot went off and his mother ran upstairs to check on him.

He decides to take a formal interview of Chris Davenport.

Interview with Chris Davenport

• Have Mom and Dad been fighting for long?
  • Pretty much since Mom was pregnant with Elmo. They haven't told Elmo, but it's pretty obvious that he was an accident. Dad's pretty sure Elmo isn't his son, but neither mom or dad have bothered clueing him in.
• Would you say that there is a long-standing grudge between your parents?
  • No. There was a time when things were a bit more pleasant between them, a long time ago. If they hated each other, why would they have gotten married in the first place and had kids together?
• So would you say your mother's last pregnancy was the cause of their fighting?
  • The circumstances behind it, probably. Dad doesn't think it was his fault, so that leaves the question of why Mom got pregnant again in the first place...
• How was your father's work life?
  • He does accounting. You know, boring stuff with numbers all the time. He gets...got, I mean...paid pretty handsomely for it.
• Where did he work?
  • This tech company, Mechtronic Systems.
• Anything going on at work that would lead him to depression?
  • Well, you might have seen on the news, Mechtronic Systems hasn't been doing well lately. All they've been talking about for the last three weeks is about how Mechtronic is in a lot of debt, they just had a bunch of people go on strike, I hear their stocks are dying too.
• Do you think the company failing is a reason why your father would kill himself?
  • It's not just that. Dad probably couldn't give a rat's ass about how the company was doing. He'd go get another job if he wasn't under contract. Thing is, though, his boss, that guy Mr. Siegel...you know that guy on the cover of Monopoly? That's pretty much Mr. Siegel, just shave off the moustache and give him a corncob pipe.
• What did Mr. Siegel do?
  • Well, I dunno how much of this is true, since all I have to go by are Dad's stories from work. He said Mr. Siegel was chewing him out, because he thinks Dad has been embezzling funds from the company, or something like that.
• Was he?
  • No! I mean, I'm pretty sure he wasn't. We wouldn't be so tight on cash if he was. Geez, if Dad really was stealing money from Mechtronic, Mom wouldn't have needed to go get that job at Ralph's.
• So your family isn't in the best shape, financially?
  • I guess not! Mom's been cutting corners on the groceries since Elmo was born. Store-brand cereal, store-brand milk, store-brand toothpaste, store-brand toilet paper...
• Do you think your family's finances would have driven your dad to kill himself?
  • Now that I think of it, it's probably all of those things you said. The company is dying, Dad's boss holds him responsible, he can't afford to get anything good anymore...shit, you should have seen our Christmas, what a joke! We had this tiny little tree, and the only one of us that got anything good was Elmo and his little tape player...

Bastion asks Chris where his father worked - Mechtronic Systems, clear on the other end of town. He meets James' boss, Mr. Siegel, who immediately begins ranting and demanding to know why James hadn't come to work. Bastion holds his cards close to his chest here and brushes that question off, instead asking about what James does here, and why Siegel seems more concerned about James' work than about James. Siegel's answers are 1. Accountant and a bad one at that, 2. because James is incompetent and is likely embezzling money. Bastion finally plays the card, revealing with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer that James is dead. Siegel's first thought is that he really needs to find a new accountant, in that case, and he has not the least care for James' well being. Bastion tucks Siegel's name away on his murder suspects list, but since he can't get much else out of him without his attorney present, he leaves for now.

Bearing the police report and crime scene photographs in mind (only available as a favor from Detective Standish, mind you), Bastion visits the Davenport residence. Most of the blood and evidence has already been cleaned out of the bedroom, so all Bastion can really do is compare the photos to what he sees in front of him. Looking beneath the bed, he notices that there is pretty much exactly enough space underneath to have a shotgun, but not really a lot else. There is no sign of a rifle case. Bastion begins looking around, and eventually finds an old leather-bound journal in James' underwear drawer (Hmm, I thought that was something only teenagers did?). Unfortunately for him, there isn't much recent stuff in here, and the last entry is from seven weeks ago. However, this one entry is quite telling.

The entry, despite being somewhat vague and brief, was written by James. After a rant about Mr. Siegel not trusting him enough, the entry describes that James had found something in Martha's coat pocket that he hadn't seen before, a digital watch from a Japanese brand. He remarks that he had seen Martha wearing a watch before, but that hers was an analog, made of brass with a leather strap. He does not think that Martha would wear a digital watch, that it's beyond her, and that it must be someone else's. And that whoever that someone else is, they'd get their ass kicked.

As Bastion turns the page, he notices faint remnants of a page that used to be there, but was torn out. Faint impressions can be seen on the thing, so Bastion does what comes naturally to him and grabs a pencil to rub it down. What is revealed is an unfinished entry that isn't more than a handful of words. "Found out who owns the watch. That fucker will pay. I'm gonna" ("Gonna what? ...Hmm. He didn't write anything else, I guess.")

Bastion rips out the rubbed page from James' journal, but as he does so, Brooke Davenport enters the bedroom. She demands to know who he is, why he's here, and upon hearing the explanation that he's a private eye hired by her big brother, why Bastion doesn't think her mom did it. "Kid," he explains, "when you're in a business like mine, you gotta be prepared for anything. Doesn't matter whether your client gets what they want - you're in it for the truth, and nothing else." Brooke ignores most of this, since it's hardly relevant. She offers her opinion, that Martha is innocent (since she was in the kitchen with them when the shot fired), but that if Martha had intended to kill James, she really wouldn't blame her, because "when you get down to it, he really was an asshole." Bastion asks why. This is about when Brooke starts talking about how her parents have never actually liked each other that much. She says it was okay when she was younger, just before she started going to school, but it has been going downhill slowly since almost a year before Elmo was born.

Bastion eventually gets the chance to speak to Elmo. Although he is aware of Dad being "gone", he seems to think that he may eventually come back. "He kept saying he needed a break." Bastion decides he shouldn't be too direct, and asks Elmo if he knows where Dad is. He doesn't. From here, Bastion asks what Elmo's parents are like. He explains, in his childish way, that his parents are "just there, being parents" - he says that his mom and dad don't like each other, and that Mom bought him "some goodies" a few months back. Bastion considers asking Elmo if there's "another daddy" but isn't convinced Elmo is aware of his unique situation.

Bastion takes another look around the master bedroom, getting frustrated at his lack of useful evidence. James' boss thinks he's incompetent, his own wife is adamant that she killed him, and all Bastion has is the word of the children that Mom wasn't in the bedroom when the shot fired. Brooke enters the bedroom again, apparently not expecting Bastion to be there. Immediately, Bastion asks what she was doing in here.

Brooke is initially very reluctant to say anything, and tries to flee. Bastion blocks the door and starts asking Brooke more questions about what she thinks of her parents. Brooke reveals that, while Dad was an asshole, Mom wasn't much of a saint herself. She'd be out all night sometimes, getting home by bus in the early morning and never actually sleeping, just staying up all night, making breakfast for the kids. She says that the only times she has ever seen Mom sleeping were when she gets home from school. Though Mom says she had to get a job herself to support the family while James' pay was being withheld by Mr. Siegel, Brooke seems to think there's something more sinister going on in the background there.

This is when Bastion finally starts prodding deeper. "You don't seem to like either of your parents that much, do you? How bad were their fights getting?"

Brooke tells Bastion she'll be right back. A moment later, she returns with a bright plastic tape recorder and an unmarked tape. She looks up and down the hall, shuts the bedroom door, and then hits Play.

What comes out is not music. Well, at first it's just Elmo's voice coming from the speaker, him singing to himself, some silly little childrens' song, but some other voices pipe up, a clattering is heard (Elmo dropping the recorder) and two very adult voices begin arguing. It's Mom and Dad, of course - Dad demands to know why dinner isn't ready. Mom responds that she hasn't been home long enough to cook. Dad says that there's something else wrong that made her get home late. Mom says she was at work. Dad doesn't think she needs a job, just stay home and make sure there's dinner on the table. Mom tells him the reality of their finances. Dad says that the finances wouldn't be such a big problem if Mom hadn't bought that damn digital watch. Mom claims she doesn't know what he's talking about. Dad sounds like he's trying to find something. Mom protests, of course. Dad claims she bought a digital watch as a gift for a male friend. Mom denies, of course. A slapping noise is heard. Dad wants to know if she's seeing "that fucking greaser" again. Mom says no. Another slap. Dad starts shouting something loudly enough that the tape distorts and makes it hard to hear what's said. Mom starts shouting in turn. Dad eventually notices the tape recorder, asks what the hell it's doing in the middle of the floor, but doesn't notice it's recording. After the argument ends with Mom crying and Dad retreating to the master bedroom and slamming the door, the recording ends.

Brooke explains that Elmo was given this tape recorder last Christmas, and that the recording was made three months ago. After the argument, she says, Mom came and talked to her and her siblings, asked them to forget what they heard, and offered to buy all three of them extra gifts if they kept quiet about it. All three agreed, though Brooke says that Chris had no intention of letting it go by, and Elmo said he didn't want the tape anymore, since he was now very afraid of that tape (childish fear). Brooke says Chris told her to take the tape and hide it in her room somewhere, because it is very important. Brooke admits that she didn't know what he was on about at first, until last month. Bastion naturally asks what happened last month.

Brooke asks Bastion if he'd seen Martha at the city jail yet, and if so, if he'd noticed that Mom had a bruise on her cheek. Bastion only vaguely recalls her face. Brooke explains that the bruise came from last month, but still doesn't really explain what happened until Bastion starts digging even deeper. Brooke never actually gets around to explaining it. She starts to try, but then breaks down in tears. Bastion's got no idea what to do here. Remembering his failed attempt to console Ruby a while ago, he doesn't try to touch Brooke. He decides it's best that she be left alone, and makes for the door, except that the door has a deep dent in it.

He looks it over. It's oval-shaped, deeper on one end than the other. He thinks about things that are that shape. It's not shoe-shaped, so it can't be from someone kicking the door (why would someone kick the door from the inside, anyway?). The butt of a shotgun seems a decent enough candidate, but he wonders why it would have hit the door. He doesn't have the crime scene photos with him, so he makes good on his thought to leave Brooke alone and heads back for the office, carrying the tape with him.

He gets home and looks at the photos again. According to those, and the accompanying floor plan, the shotgun was found on the floor between the open door and the wall. Bastion figures that the shotgun was pushed into that area by the door opening. Nobody would deliberately put the weapon there, because there are tons of better places to hide it, even without leaving the bedroom. Furthermore, Bastion figures, the position the shotgun would have to have been in to be pushed in such a way makes it rather difficult to have put it there deliberately if it was anybody other than the victim. Perhaps James, acting on adrenaline from having just been shot, grabbed his assailant's shotgun and threw it away? That would certainly explain the dent in the door, if he'd thrown it hard enough. It's just a theory, Bastion decides, and he doesn't quite have enough evidence to prove it, especially with no obvious signs of a struggle having been documented in the police case files (which they use to indicate that the murder was committed by a person James Davenport trusted, i.e. his wife).

Here's about when Bastion badly needs Ruby. Except earlier in the story, Bastion really badly screwed up with Ruby by trying to fight off Albert (despite the fact that she hates him, she's offended that Bastion tried to fight a battle he had no part in). A call to the newspaper office (during work hours) instead reaches the editor in chief, who tells Bastion that he is no longer allowed on the premises of the office.

A lead from the earlier interview with Chris, that Martha had been working part-time at Ralph's, comes to light when Bastion gets an unexpected phone call from his younger sister, Tera, who has coincidentally been working at the same store (though she does not learn of that significance until meeting Bastion in person). Tera meets up with Bastion to catch up, but Bastion brings up the case and asks if Tera worked with Martha at Ralph's. Tera acts as a character witness at this point that, of the times she met with Martha in the break room during night shifts, she does not believe that a person like Martha could be capable of killing anybody. She says that Martha almost seems more at ease when working than when on break, though she can't say for sure why, but her intuition seems to be pointing towards the idea that she's working to get away from something. Bastion tries to touch on another thing that confused him, James' allegation that Martha had been seeing someone else. He asks Tera if she'd ever seen Martha with a man at work, specifically anybody Hispanic (goes with what James said on the tape about "that fucking greaser"). Come to think of it, she has, and apparently she was just trying to return the man's watch that he'd left in the break room. Tera's not really sure if there is anything beyond that, but she's pretty sure that's the reason she'd be after him.

Given the lead's significance as a psychological problem, Bastion contacts Chris again and asks if his family had been undergoing therapy at all. He says yes, that his father James had been seeing a psychologist named Dr. Jakob Markusson about his stress issues. Bastion tracks down Dr. Markusson, but it is difficult to get in to interview him, not only because he is busy, but also due to doctor-patient privilege. The police have already spoken to him themselves, and he is of the opinion that James Davenport was not sufficiently depressed that he would shoot himself, especially not since he had prescribed Mr. Davenport a regimen of antidepressants to fend off the stress. This makes something click in Bastion's mind: maybe there was no murder, perhaps James killed himself. The police report indicated no signs of a struggle nor attempts at breaking and entering, so it could not be the unnamed Hispanic co-worker trying to "save" Martha. Martha was not in the bedroom when the shot was fired; she was in the kitchen, ruling her out as well. None of the three kids knew how to operate James' gun; neither Brooke nor Elmo would even have the strength to lift it, either. So perhaps James, badly affected by stress at home and at work and the sudden shock of being on a heavy regimen of antidepressants as well as whatever alcohol he had on hand, shot himself and threw the gun away afterwards, inadvertently making it look like Martha did it (or perhaps deliberately, to make her take the fall).

All this in mind, Bastion returns to the jail to speak to Martha again. He says that he is unconvinced that she killed her husband, that he has assembled enough evidence himself that he could get her off the hook. Between the statements of her children, Tera, and Elmo's tape-recording, he figures that he could pin this whole thing on James himself. But he just needs one last thing clarified: who was the mysterious man James mentioned? Martha is initially reluctant to speak, telling Bastion to go away, before Bastion pulls the tape recorder and plays the section where James accuses her of seeing "that fucking greaser." The combination of those words and the sight of Elmo's tape recorder causes Martha to break down crying. She doesn't really go into specifics, but what Bastion can make out from her sobs is that she claims that Miguel - a male co-worker of hers at Ralph's - was just a friend, that it was a misunderstanding, and that James had at some point threatened to find him and kill him. "It's lucky that he never gave himself the chance," Bastion remarks. Martha continues sobbing and is still insistent that there's no way to get her off the hook, but court is tomorrow, and you don't know til you try.

Bastion somehow convinces Martha to give him a chance at the stand, however doubtful she may be of his case for her. She reveals, however, that she has already waived her right to a state-appointed attorney, as she had intended on merely signing the confession and pleading guilty. As support, Bastion tries to contact Detective Standish but is told that he is disallowed by the precinct commander from appearing in court in defense of a murder suspect. Standish does not mention why, just that "it'd take all night to explain." Finally, he tries calling Ruby again, this time at home. After a lengthy period of attempting to apologize and right his wrongs, he finally manages to get a very reluctant Ruby to spend her one day off at court, with him, to help save an innocent woman from going to jail for killing her suicidal husband.

We'll See You In Court, Bucko

Bastion's court case is handled primarily by taking mostly the same strategy that his previous opponent, Mr. Tanner's state-appointed attorney, had taken: poking holes in the testimony until it leaks like a sieve. Except with Ruby on his side, who happens to be quite good at writing for the police blotter, he is able to get a somewhat more presentable case, and despite neither one possessing a law degree, they take on the case together (with the judge's permission, and with Bastion temporarily sporting a nice red slap mark across his cheek as penance for trying too hard to "help" Ruby with the Albert situation).

Bastion is up against the same DA as last case, who offers him one last chance to back out and let Martha take her plea bargain. He refuses. Court begins. The first witness on the stand was to be Martha herself, but as she now pleas Not Guilty (of her own volition), the first witness is instead the detective in charge of the investigation, Detective Indira Haseem, from the Homicide division. Her testimony is that Martha entered the bedroom, immediately took James' shotgun, shot him with it without aiming, dropped it against the wall, then left the room. Bastion uses the police report against that: the official report does not conclusively show that it was Martha that pulled the trigger, due to the absence of gunpowder residue on either Martha's hands or the dish-washing gloves she wore. Although there were bloodstains on the gloves, Bastion says that they don't match with what is on the shotgun.

Indira suggests that Martha wiped the gun, but if that were the case, would she not have put a little more effort into it? (Martha seems offended at first, until Bastion clarifies that he didn't mean it as an insult to Martha, her being a housewife.) Blood was found on the gloves, and it would have easily washed off. She could very well have washed the gloves in the dishwashing detergent in the sink and used that as her alibi if she had intended to hide it, yet she didn't. Indira's next supposition is that Martha simply didn't have the time to do that; Bastion again cites the police report, noting that the time of response differs almost 15 minutes from the time the 911 call was received. That's 15 minutes that Martha, if she were so inclined, could easily have cleaned up the mess, if she had any intention of hiding it from the police, and yet she did not do any such thing.

Perhaps Martha was in a state of shock, Indira suggests. Bastion agrees, but adds, if Martha were so shocked, she would not be taking steps to hide the truth. She would have either fainted, panicked, or gone catatonic, given that she did not practice or premeditate anything of this sort.

The judge then allows Bastion and Ruby to cross-examine Detective Haseem. There is only one question asked of the detective: what was Martha Davenport's motive for murder? Haseem mentions evidence of an "extracurricular" relationship, notably the unfinished journal entry in James' underwear drawer. The torn-out paper is admitted as evidence. As a rebuttal, Bastion submits a written, signed, and notarized affidavit from Martha herself that she claims, under penalty of perjury, that she was not in any relationships other than her marriage to James. The watch mentioned in James' journal was not a gift, but was mistakenly left in the break room at Ralph's Supermarket, and Martha had intended to give it back to its owner. Bastion adds that, because of James' extremely high levels of stress from work at MechTronic's accounting department, he may have simply assumed the worst about the watch. This leads the DA to call his next witness: Dr. Jakob Markussen, James Davenport's therapist.

Dr. Markussen gives off an obviously-rehearsed testimony, regarding the reasoning behind James' therapy, the recent prescription of antidepressants, and his declaration that James was of sound mind and would not be sufficiently stressed or depressed to kill anybody, least of all himself.

Ruby, no stranger to antidepressants herself, takes the reins here. She immediately asks Dr. Markussen what the size of the prescription was, and how often it was filled. Markussen initially refuses to answer, but the judge reminds him that doctor-patient privilege may be revoked by court order. Markussen finally answers that the prescription was only 10 pills, one a day, and was to be refilled only at the end of the ten days. However, according to his records, James Davenport had come back for a refill five days earlier than he should have, and was not allowed to refill because of it. Ruby asks Indira for the medical examiner's report, which under the Toxicology section says that Davenport did not have any traces of pills in his system the day he killed himself. Ruby makes her claim that James Davenport may have been doubling his dosage of the antidepressants, and having been denied the refill, fell into withdrawal symptoms, including severe depression. Bastion asks, as a matter of record, when the last day was that James Davenport came in for a session with Markussen. Markussen said that it was only three days after the last time his prescription had been filled. The pharmacy records state that he had been receiving prescription drugs since three months ago (coinciding with the date of the argument Elmo had unwittingly recorded on his tape machine, and also happening to be the day Chris Davenport finally called the cops on his parents). Markussen's only reply is to the effect of, "What hath God wrought?"

It is now time for Bastion and Ruby to call their own witnesses. First is Chris Davenport, with which Bastion repeats a section of his interview with him before. Chris, under oath, says that his parents have been fighting for a long time, and only recently had things been getting worse. When asked for more details, Chris says that James had been getting hassled by his boss regarding suspicion of embezzlement (the judge rules this irrelevant to the case), and in addition to his arguments with Martha and the sudden withdrawal from his pills, Chris believes that James Davenport would have been sufficiently depressed to kill himself. Chris' testimony is then turned over to the DA, but he immediately dismisses him. "No questions."

As a matter of court record, the DA does ask to hear the tape recording mentioned earlier. Bastion plays the tape, starting just after Elmo's singing. The argument plays back as it had before. By the end, judge, jury, and attorneys are all sitting there in shock, as is Dr. Markussen, who had never heard it before. Markussen is the first to say anything: "My God, James Davenport didn't need professional help, he needed to be committed!"

This is the end of the court session which ends with a unanimous Not Guilty verdict for Martha Davenport. Dr. Markussen approaches the family at the end of the case and offers to host family therapy sessions, in their own house, free of charge. Martha says nothing, but Chris accepts the offer immediately. He says that the family has needed this since Martha was pregnant with Elmo, and look at what the strife has done to Brooke. It's revealed that Brooke was crying through the second half of the trial, and she finally gives mom a great big hug and apologizes for everything she's said. Maybe it's best, Bastion says, that this family get all the help they can.

Bastion catches up to Ruby at the end of the trial as well with a bit of a logic issue: if Ruby had a personal stake in the case, then she wouldn't be allowed to write the news article about it for the Daily, would she? Ruby isn't quite sure where Bastion is going with it until he mentions that it's time Albert get his comeuppance - she grins evilly as she realizes what he means. She is implied to have dropped the entire load of paperwork at Albert's desk as revenge. She tells Bastion that he doesn't need to come in to the office anymore, that she now knows exactly how to push Albert's buttons (turns out, he's just a lazyass and hates working). She does, however, put in a good word with the editor-in-chief so that Bastion is no longer barred from entry to the office. As to the matter of payment, however, while Bastion gets $500 from the Davenport family for his efforts, Ruby takes $200 of it as "legal fees." ("You fuckin' owed me, remember?")

Reformatted Script

It's not until Ruby furiously strides out of the main office that I realize the slamming noise was probably her stomping on the floor. "You. Get out." Her gesture towards the door almost looks like she's trying to swing a sword at me.

"Hey, whoa, what'd I do?"

"Got me in trouble with the Editor-in-Chief, that's fucking what!"

"Didn't he listen to you?"

"Albert wouldn't even let me get a word in edgewise, and your little stunt back there just made things worse. Do you remember what I told you when this thing started?"

"You brought me here to deal with Albert, right?"

"Observe and fucking record, that's all I wanted!"

"I can't just sit back and watch while he hurls all that abuse at you!"

"I don't need your fucking protection!" Nothing is said for several seconds. All I can hear in the meantime is the near-silent ticking of the punch-clock and the dull buzz from the lighting above. She doesn't break her death-glare, even to blink. I am legitimately scared right now. Finally she speaks again, but in a hushed tone that almost sounds angrier than if she were to just shout. "It's a simple thing I asked you to do. All I wanted was for you to act as a witness. I never asked you, at any point, to stop him, to keep me from going insane, or anything beyond watching."

"Alright, I get the message. I'll just watch from now on."

"No. That's not good enough. I want you out."

"Why? You still need me, don't you?"

"You clearly aren't capable of following instructions. Now get out."

"Can I use your phone first?"

"What, you want to call your boyfriend, the cab driver?"

"It's a long way home--"

"I know you've been talking to him about me. I warned you not to bring me up."

"It seems like you have more of a problem with him than he has with you."

"I don't give a fuck!" A nearby office go-fer, who happens to be passing by the door to the waiting room, runs off in a panic.

"If you hadn't told me not to mention your name, I'd never have drawn the connection."

A solid cannonball of a fist collides with my stomach. It's a few seconds before I can breathe again, which is just enough time for Ruby to say her piece and leave. "I don't want to see you here again. We are no longer friends. Consider yourself fired." She doesn't even look at me as she wrenches the main door open again, but she stops halfway through to let one last comment out the side of her mouth. "Good luck with the private dick thing." It doesn't sound as if she intended it to be sarcastic. It almost sounds respectful, in the way you might hear from a bitter rival with a serious grudge. Or maybe I'm imagining things. She could very well be wishing me to die in a mafia hit or something.

Legacy Script

# ########################
# ## CASE 3 BEGINS HERE ##
# ########################

label Case3Start:
    scene bg Tandy
    with fade
    pc "POST #2055 - SUBJECT: COMMODORE AMIGA, CAN IT REALLY TAKE OVER?{w}\nSo I just got a copy of the official brochure for Commodore's newest machine.{w} They're calling it Amiga, which I guess is Mexican for girlfriend?{w} The numbers are well and good, but they're claiming it works miracles.{w} I mean, come on, why would you ever need to run more than one program at once?{w} That's dark sorcery, that is!{w} And what about the games? Sure, it looks nice, with that bouncing ball thing, but it'll never beat Fargoal! -Asteroids"
    pc "Hey, I thought the police took you in? -IF"
    pc "Oh, very funny, can we keep it on topic, please? -Asteroids"
    pc "Hey, look, I can do it too! -Tempest"
    pc "Did somebody say my name? -Mr. Do!"
    pc "No, the sound of bouncing balls attracted you. -Pooyan"
    pc "Who the hell ever heard of a video game called Pooyan? -Vulgus"
    pc "Like you're one to talk. -Custer's Revenge"
    pc "I give up. -Asteroids"
    "Another day at the office.{w}..Apartment. Damn it."
    "Well, I suppose you {i}could{/i} actually call it an office, now, especially since Artie made the good-faith gesture of giving me a new door."
    "A door that, might I add, would make Sam Spade green with envy."
    "Granted, not everybody has really taken the idea of me as a private eye seriously."
    "Ruby came to visit me once after work, did that old film noir schtick where she sits on the desk, and asked me to help her find her lost kitten."
    "Ruby has never owned a kitten."
    "The Chatbox has been largely unproductive for the last few months since I had my last case. The money is starting to dry up."
    "The Chatbox's sys-op gave me a telling-off when he found out I was using his board to advertise my services. I guess it was only a matter of time."
    "I haven't posted an ad on there in a couple of months, as of now."
    "I'm down to my last fifty bucks from the almost $1,200 I got from the Maxwells."
    "I paid it forward as best I could, but to be honest, most of it did go toward back rent."
    "On the plus side, I now have enough packages of instant noodles that I could survive for another three months without money."
    "God bless you, bulk supermarkets."
    "Well, even though it got me in trouble last time, I'm going to post another ad, since the last one I made has disappeared into the aether."
    pc "POST #2057 - SUBJECT: I'M FOR HIRE AGAIN{w}\nBastion Crowley again.{w} Hey, did anybody see me in the newspaper a couple months back?{w} ...Actually, I don't blame you if you didn't.{w} But if you're in need of a detective for anything (within reason!), call me at (xxx)xxx-xxxx and I'll look into it.{w} Rates, as always, are negotiable."
    "...No, that subject line seems a bit too desperate."
    "I delete that field and instead try {=pc}AMATEUR DETECTIVE FOR HIRE!{/=pc}...no, might be a bit too brutally honest. Nobody's going to hire an amateur."
    "Maybe {=pc}FLEDGLING P.I.{/=pc}...oh, hell no, who's going to look at that? That's thinking too highly of myself."
    "Hang on. I need a thesaurus."
    "I pull a thick, dusty old tome from the bottom drawer of the desk. I haven't used this since high school."
    "It takes considerable effort to wipe the ages-old grime from the cover, but it reads \"Roget's.\""
    "Let's see. Detective..."
    "Investigator...Inspector...Dick...Private Eye...Sleuth...Gumshoe..."
    "Shamus. Bingo."
    pc "POST #2057 - SUBJECT: BASTION CROWLEY, CHATBOX SHAMUS."
    "I like it. It's got a ring to it."
    "...No, maybe I shouldn't put my real name on there."
    "I had read this rather lengthy post a while ago about how dangerous it is to use your real name on a BBS. Maybe that \"Asteroids\" guy was on to something, after all."
    pc "POST #2057 - SUBJECT: THE CHATBOX SHAMUS"
    "There we go."
    "It'll be a while before I start to get replies, though. It's nearing winter break for the students at the college, so few of them will have access to the board, but it'll be free advertising towards the few that do."
    "I had at some point asked Ruby if she could pull some strings and get me into the job ads in the Daily."
    "In reply, she pulled {i}my{/i} strings - well, hair, actually."
    "The very thought of it makes me reach up and rub the back of my neck."
    "Hm. My hair is getting a bit on the long side."
    "Shame I don't have enough extra cash to get it cut."
    "Seems I've managed a respectable five-o'clock shadow, too. Sadly, razors are even more expensive than haircuts, weird as that might seem."
    "Oh well. I guess I can catch up on that Amiga discussion from earlier."
    pc "POST #2055 - SUBJECT: COMMODORE AMIGA, CAN IT REALLY TAKE OVER? (continued){w}\nHey, Asteroids, what connection do you have to the computer industry? I work for a major retailer up north and haven't heard of this Amiga. -Super Locomotive"
    pc "Hey, what the hell? Now you guys are just making names up! -Asteroids"
    pc "But you didn't answer my question... -Super Locomotive"
    pc "Oh, forget about him. He's bitter and paranoid. -Elevator Action"
    pc "I bet in the future, we won't be able to tell the difference between a video game and real life. -Dunjonquest"
    pc "Fat chance! -Akalabeth"
    pc "Uh, okay, are you guys all different people, or just two users changing names? -Asteroids"
    pc "I have no idea what you're talking about. -Temple of Apshai"
    pc "No idea at all. -Zork"
    "Anonymity, you never cease to disappoint me."
    
    scene bg Black
    with dissolve
    "...."
    
    scene bg BedroomInteriorFull at right
    with dissolve
    "Strangely, I don't remember going to bed last night. I must have managed to resist sleep long enough to haul myself in here."
    "The alarm clock at my bedside reads 9 AM. I have no idea how I've managed to get up right on the dot, considering I didn't hear any noises."
    "Almost as if on cue, the moment I have that thought, the phone rings from the front room."
    
    scene bg BastionsOffice
    with dissolve
    b "Crowley."
    r "Get your ass over here, Bastion."
    b "Over where? What's going on?"
    r "Look, I know I said I wouldn't need you today, but I am doing everything in my power to--"
    r "...Hold on a moment."
    "I hear a noise that sounds like Ruby's placed her phone on the desk. She hasn't hung up, though, and I can still faintly hear her shouting in the background."
    r "Alright, would you give me a fuckin' minute? Kinda busy here!"
    "I can't quite make out the other end of the conversation. I guess Ruby's voice is just clear enough to carry over the phone without needing to hold it."
    r "It can wait! I've got my own job to do, too, ya know!"
    "I still don't manage to hear what is said in reply, except for the word \"guido.\" Given Ruby's part-Italian heritage, I don't even need to guess what her reaction is."
    r "Fuck off!"
    "The phone makes a clattering, and Ruby's voice becomes clear again."
    r "Look, just get the fuck over here as soon as you can. Bring a camera, or a tape recorder, or something, I don't care!"
    "I can't get one word in reply before she's hung up as violently as possible. Geez, now I know how Albert felt when she did the same to him."
    
    scene bg NewsOffice
    with dissolve
    "A few bus rides (and plenty of stressed hyperventilation) later, I enter the newspaper office to see the reason behind the sudden call-in."
    al "Well look, you mouthy little guido dyke--"
    r "Hey, just because I hate {i}your{/i} fuckin' guts doesn't mean I hate men--"
    al "You had {i}one job{/i} and you still managed to--"
    r "If you'd just do your own work for once in your god damned life instead of piling it on me--"
    al "I'm not going to take this shit from you, bitch--"
    r "Shut the fuck up and go back to your little broom closet!"
    "I dig out my notebook and start furiously scribbling down as much of the conversation as I can catch. My hand can't keep up with the breakneck pace of the argument."
    al "At least {i}I{/i} have an office!"
    r "All you did was drag a desk and a chair into the janitor's room!"
    al "I deserve privacy now and then!"
    r "Really? You and I both know all you do in there is admire your Playboy collection, which at this point I'd rather you did that than bitch at me!"
    al "And what are you going to do, call The Family and have me put in concrete boots? Maybe I just need a moment with God, you ever think about that?"
    r "To what, have Him smite me down with holy lightning because I won't do your work for you? Fuck off."
    al "I take great offense to that, being a Catholic! I'm going to call the Chief and claim you're insulting my religion!"
    "I can't take this anymore!"
    r "I ought to do the same to you, you racist mother-fucking--"
    b "Both of you, shut the hell up!"
    "Almost as if they're drawn together against a common enemy, the both of them break their gaze at each other and direct it instead at me."
    b "You, back in your office."
    al "What gives you the right to tell me what to do?"
    b "What gives {i}you{/i} the right to harass her?"
    al "She'll never be as good as me! She'll always languish in that box of hers unless I whip her into shape!"
    b "What are you, some kind of sick S-and-M dommie whose bitch is out of town? You don't need to take it out on her."
    al "Which department do you work in? I'm going to call your boss."
    "Uh-oh. Might have gone over the line."
    b "Easy there, pal. Go for a walk, mull it over."
    al "I think {i}you're{/i} the one that needs to go for a walk, right out the door! I get enough of this crap from her, I don't need you giving it to me, too! Get out!"
    
    scene bg NullScene
    with dissolve
    # scene: newsoffice waiting area
    "Big Al must be trying to play for sympathy. Guess what, it's not working."
    "If anybody sympathizes with that shithole, I'll eat my hat."
    "I don't have a hat."
    "Obviously, I've made things worse for Ruby, so I take my leave and sit in the waiting area instead."
    "The waiting area is mostly sealed off from the main office floor, so I can only hear angry-sounding mumbling through the door."
    "There's silence for a moment, followed by further angry mumbling. A few moments later, I hear a door slamming - probably Albert's - followed by something else slamming, which I can't readily identify."
    "It's not until Ruby furiously strides out of the main office that I realize the second slam was probably her stomping on the floor."
    r "You. Get out."
    b "Hey, whoa, what'd I do?"
    r "Got me in trouble with the Editor-in-Chief, that's fucking what!"
    b "Didn't he listen to you?"
    r "Albert wouldn't even let me get a word in edgewise, and your little stunt back there just made things worse."
    r "Do you remember what I told you when this thing started?"
    b "You brought me here to deal with Albert, right?"
    r "Observe and fucking record, that's all I wanted!"
    b "I can't just sit back and watch while he hurls all that abuse at you!"
    r "{i}I don't need your fucking protection!{/i}"
    "Nothing is said for several seconds. All I can hear in the meantime is the near-silent ticking of the punch-clock and the dull buzz from the lighting above."
    "She doesn't break her death-glare, even to blink. I am legitimately scared right now."
    "Finally she speaks again, but in a hushed tone that almost sounds angrier than if she were to just shout."
    r "It's a simple thing I asked you to do. All I wanted was for you to act as a witness. I never asked you, at any point, to stop him, to keep me from going insane, or anything beyond watching."
    b "Alright, I get the message. I'll just watch from now on."
    r "No. That's not good enough. I want you out."
    b "What? Why?"
    r "You clearly aren't capable of following instructions. Now {i}get out{/i}."
    b "Can I use your phone first?"
    r "What, you want to call your boyfriend, the cab driver?"
    b "It's a long way home--"
    r "I know you've been talking to him. I warned you not to bring me up."
    b "It seems like you have more of a problem with him than he has with you."
    r "{b}I don't give a fuck!{/b}"
    "A nearby office go-fer, who happens to be passing by the door to the waiting room, runs off in a panic."
    b "If you hadn't told me not to mention your name, I'd never have drawn the connection."
    "A solid cannonball of a fist collides with my stomach. It's a few seconds before I can breathe again, which is just enough time for Ruby to say her piece and leave."
    r "I don't want to see you here again. We are no longer friends. Consider yourself fired."
    "She doesn't even look at me as she wrenches the main door open again, but she stops halfway through to let one last comment out the side of her mouth."
    r "Good luck with the private dick thing."
    "It doesn't sound as if she intended it to be sarcastic. It almost sounds respectful, in the way you might hear from a bitter rival with a serious grudge."
    "Or maybe I'm imagining things. She could very well be wishing me to die in a mafia hit or something."
    
    scene bg NewsOfficeExterior
    with dissolve
    "I'm not really sure how I managed to screw up so badly with her."
    "She only wanted me to take notes, but there was no way I was going to watch Albert tear her limb from figurative limb."
    "I just couldn't keep my yap shut."
    "With no ride to speak of, I find myself walking. It's probably about three miles from here to the office, but at this point, I don't care so much."
    "Walking helps me think."
    "If I were to take the bus, I'd have to deal with people."
    "Rick's taxi is a tempting prospect - I recall him being a very close acquaintance of Ruby's - but somehow, she knew I'd been talking to him."
    "Best not to risk that in a while unless I'm sure I can either keep it under the rug, or figure out a way to make it up to her."
    "...Fat chance of the latter happening. If I recall, Ruby tends to hold grudges for a really long time."
    "I need to ruminate on this a bit, before I go asking for help."
    
    scene bg StreetCorner
    with dissolve
    "It's already getting dark, oddly."
    "I blame it on the weather. We're getting into winter time, which most places would say means snow, high wind, and cold weather."
    "The Pacific Southeast, however, only ever gets the cold weather, out of those three."
    "Winter also means far more rain than usual."
    "Since we already get a lot of rain, this practically guarantees a constant torrent of rainfall."
    # sfx: rain
    "Speak of the devil..."
    "Despite the sudden wet onslaught, I can't help but stop when I spot something bright out the corner of my eye."
    "It's a poster, advertising the latest performance at the college theater."
    "\"ARE YOU SORRY, MATA HARI? - An interpretive dance performance of the life and death of the famous World War spy. Written and directed by, and starring, Myrna Maxwell.\""
    "A shudder goes down my spine. Whether that's the mental images associated with the name, or the cold rain running down my back, I can't say for sure."
    "The poster has a brilliantly-colored picture of Myrna herself, dressed in the belly-dancing outfit that Mata is generally depicted with."
    "Her form is really not cut out for it. Clearly, Myrna's been slacking on the diet compared to her \"glory years.\""
    "That's probably why the top portion of the outfit is quite a bit more conservative than the one I remember seeing."
    "Uh...not that I'd remember a thing like that."
    "Oh, come on, when you're 25 and have never had a serious relationship, this is where your brain goes, okay?{w} Geez, it's a wonder I can concentrate on a case, half the time!"
    "Come to think of it, I thought Ms. Maxwell had gotten in touch with Ruby for script-writing help."
    "Her name's not on this poster. I wonder if that's why it's an interpretive dance, not a play."
    "...You know, I wonder how Myrna's been doing lately? I haven't seen her since the dinner."
    "Ech. This rain's getting on my nerves. Better get moving."
    
    scene bg ApartmentExterior
    with dissolve
    "I don't make it home until I've nearly taken a complete shower."
    "The cube van is still firmly rooted to the Manager Parking spot. It hasn't moved an inch."
    "You know, maybe it's this weather, combined with the fact that Ruby has just thrown me out on my ass, but I think it's time I did something about this damn van."
    "I don't have my wire coat hanger on me, but that barely matters. I believe I left the van unlocked, the last time I got in."
    "...Passenger side door is locked."
    "I realize it must have been the other door I opened last time, so I start to circle around the truck."
    "Just before I set a foot out on to the street, a flashy sports car roars past, doing probably three times the speed limit."
    "Damn it, people, thirty miles per hour is not too much to ask."
    "Satisfied that nothing else intends to run me over tonight, I try the driver's side door of the cube van."
    "It pops open with no trouble at all."
    "I hoist myself into the seat and shut the door behind me."
    "For a while, I just sit there."
    "It's refreshing to be out of the rain, however the means."
    "I find myself gripping the steering wheel. It feels almost natural to my hands, like I was born to wield it."
    "My eyes scan around the interior. There's no key in the ignition, so I can't just start it up and move it."
    "I never learned how to hotwire a car - that would imply that I would then drive said car, and I still do not have my license."
    "The cube van's an automatic gearbox, though, so the idea of what to do doesn't take long to manifest."
    "My hand automatically reaches for the lever on the right side of the steering wheel and pulls."
    "...Whoops. That's not the gear shifter, that just turned on the windshield wipers."
    "Some fumbling around with the lever eventually switches them back off."
    "There's a twisty handle below the wheel, to the left side, bearing miniscule text claiming that it's the emergency brake."
    "Here we go."
    "I give the handle a twist, releasing the lock and disengaging the brake. The whole van shudders a bit, but eventually settles back down."
    "I think that's all I can do here for now. Well, there was one other thing I've always been curious about..."
    "...Nah, I'll wait for the weather to let up first."
    
    scene bg ApartmentHallway
    with dissolve
    "Artie's not home today, so I stride right past his little office on the first floor and up the stairs."
    
    scene bg BastionsOffice
    with dissolve
    "With nobody to serve as a muse, or anything else to do with my time, it's back to a schedule I wish I didn't need."
    "There's nothing on TV, the Chatbox is just going to have more bickering and terrible jokes, and the only person that would ever give me the time of day has kicked me out of her life."
    "My gut still hurts."
    "There's a newspaper on my desk that I forgot I'd left there."
    "It's an issue from about two months ago, the week after my first successful case."
    "For the record, that's the Maxwell case, not the rocky road that was my initiation into sleuthing."
    "It's not front-page news by any means, but there is a little blurb in the police blotter about that case."
    "\"Malcolm Tanner, 38, was found guilty on several charges and sentenced to 50 years in prison. Pictured: PSEPD Det. Greg Standish, District Attorney Nigel Norton, private investigator Bastion Crowley, and kidnapping victim Myrna Maxwell.\""
    "As cool as that picture is, I find it brings my mind back to the post-trial. Even though I got paid, and brought to a nice dinner, I wound up inadvertently standing Ruby up that day."
    "I can't keep my mind off her."
    "Is this what guilt feels like? What prison inmates have to think about for years at a time?"
    "What Malcolm Tanner has to think about for the next 50 years?"
    "...No. Tanner was an asshole. He deserves it."
    "I...well, I won't say I don't deserve it myself..."
    "Damn it, I hate equating myself to people like that."
    "With a sigh, I put the newspaper back down, and with absolutely nothing else left to do, I head off to sleep."
    
    scene bg Black
    with dissolve
    "...."
    "{i}You had one job and you still managed to...{/i}"
    "{i}Shut the fuck up and go back to your little broom closet!{/i}"
    "{i}I don't need your fucking protection!{/i}"
    
    scene bg BedroomInteriorFullNight at right
    with dissolve
    "A sudden body spasm jolts me awake, as if I'm about to fall out of bed."
    "What the hell was that, some kind of fever dream?"
    "My heart is racing like I just ran a mile. My blanket seems to have found itself on the floor, and the sheets are soaking with my own sweat."
    "Ugh. Time to change the bedding, I guess."
    "The alarm clock on the bedside table claims I've only been asleep for three hours."
    "It's pitch-black outside. Normally I can see the streets through the window, but my head is fogged in and I can't seem to adjust my eyes to it."
    "I just don't get it. I know that what I did to Ruby was wrong...but how was it wrong? What was I supposed to do?"
    "Ruby's well-being is obviously badly affected by the presence of Albert. She's unquestionably in a better mood when he's gone."
    "I can't think of much that I could have done differently."
    "I could have just held my tongue for once, but that situation would not have resolved itself. It'd end in one of three ways."
    "Ending 1: Ruby kills Albert, with her bare hands."
    "Ending 2: Albert kills Ruby, with third-degree burns from thrown coffee."
    "Ending 3: They somehow manage to kill each other, in a huge mess of blood and coffee."
    "What I hadn't anticipated was Ending 4: Ruby and Albert unite against a common foe and have him booted from the office."
    "Any way you slice it, the villain ends up being me."
    "I don't think I'll be getting sleep any time soon, so I head over to the bathroom - a little closet with a toilet and sink, basically - and splash some cold water on my face."
    "Agh! Too cold, but at least I'm awake now."
    show bg BedroomInteriorFullNight:
        xpos -665.0 ypos 0 xanchor 0 yanchor 0
        linear 4.0 xpos 0 ypos 0
    "I guess there's not much I can do if I'm not sleeping, so it's back to that old routine. I flick the TV on, to find that it's showing the evening movies."
    "Tonight's movie is {i}Out of the Past{/i}. I don't think I've seen this one before, but it looks like it's got Robert Mitchum in it. He's not bad."
    "Probably my least favorite Philip Marlowe actor, but then, it's pretty hard to top Dick Powell."
    "...."
    "My head starts filling with theories and hypotheses about what my life would be like if I hadn't taken up this line of work."
    "I'd probably be sitting at the computer, or watching TV, or in another dead-end job."
    "I wouldn't have had that experience with court."
    "Nor would I have stumbled upon Ruby at the payphone, those months ago, and re-forged a connection with her."
    "Damn it, why can't I get Ruby out of my head?"
    "It's over; she said so herself!"
    "...."
    "No. It's not over."
    "We're just taking a break."
    "....God, I'm talking about it like we were in love or something."
    "But really, what {i}is{/i} love? I bet it wasn't anything like that."
    "Platonic relationship at best. Maybe professional, but not close to romance."
    "This is a really shitty way to justify the situation. Arguing that we were never in love doesn't soften the blow at all."
    "It only makes me feel even worse."
    "I sit and stare at the TV for a while longer. None of the events in the movie seem to stick in my mind."
    "I'm watching, but I'm not at the same time. I utterly fail to comprehend anything on screen."
    
    scene bg Black
    with dissolve
    "This continues until the movie ends and the TV channel signs off for the night. I don't even realize what's happened until I doze off for a second."
    
    scene bg BedroomInteriorFullNight at left
    with dissolve
    "What wakes me up, a couple of hours later, is the sound of the telephone in the other room. I almost don't hear it over the test-pattern on TV."
    
    scene bg BastionsOffice
    with dissolve
    "I nearly trip over at least five different things as I rush to answer it."
    b "*cough* Crowley's office, this is Bastion."
    mom "Baz, you sound awful! Why haven't you called since you moved out? Are you in trouble?"
    "That's my mom, Julia Crowley. {w}Excuse me. I mean Julia {i}Marshall{/i}-Crowley."
    "When she remarried barely a year or so after Dad died, she opted to hyphenate her name."
    "I don't think it was in memory of Dad at all - I think it was just so she could keep her connection to her old in-laws."
    "Mom's a manipulative sort of person. Also note how she rarely lets me finish a sentence, and that she insists on calling me \"Baz,\" even though that sounds like shorthand for Basil, not Bastion."
    "...Why didn't I leave my phone number unlisted in the directory?"
    b "Hi, Mom."
    mom "Really, though, you sound like you're not getting enough sleep. What's the problem?"
    b "It's a long story and I don't really feel up to telling it right now."
    mom "Is it your job? Are you having trouble with your boss? Come on, tell your mom what's going on."
    b "I don't really have a boss..."
    mom "The newspaper says you're a private detective now. Isn't that dangerous?"
    b "Not when you aren't getting cases. Speaking of, Mom, I'd really like to not tie up the phone line."
    mom "Oh, nonsense, they can call back later. Did you get back in touch with that girl from high school?"
    b "About that..."
    mom "I always thought she'd be a great match for you! How come you two never dated?"
    b "Uh...I really..."
    mom "Isn't she working at the newspaper now? I thought I saw her name in there somewhere...she writes the police report section, doesn't she? And there was that photograph in the paper a couple months ago that had you in it..."
    b "Mom, Ruby isn't--"
    mom "Quit being so humble, Baz, and tell your mom all about it."
    b "Okay, I've got a few bombshells of news for you, on that note. Listen carefully and don't try to interrupt me."
    mom "Okay."
    "I rattle off a quick story about how I became a P.I., how my first \"real\" case was a success, and how I somehow managed to piss off Ruby bad enough that she declared us \"no longer friends.\""
    mom "So she broke up with you?"
    b "Didn't I mention, we never dated?"
    mom "And why not? I thought you were perfect for each other!"
    b "Weren't you paying attention at all?"
    mom "I'm sorry, I must have missed the part where it became okay to hurt your mother's feelings."
    b "Oh for the love of...not you, too?"
    mom "I'm just kidding. Can't you take a joke? I thought I needed to lighten the mood a bit."
    b "I'd really appreciate any advice you might have for how to salvage this thing."
    mom "Try flowers."
    b "Ruby never liked flowers."
    mom "Buy her a kitten?"
    b "You're really not very good at this, are you?"
    mom "You know Ruby a lot better than I do, so I don't know why you're asking for my help."
    b "How about this then, Mom...how do I get my revenge on that guy that she works with? I'm pretty sure it's his fault."
    mom "From what it sounds like, Baz, the reason you're in this mess in the first place is because you tried to do exactly that."
    b "Meaning?"
    mom "If you try to do it again, it's only going to get her even more mad. I'm not sure I know her well enough to say for sure, but it sounds like she thinks she can handle herself."
    mom "Usually when a girl gets into that feeling, if anybody tries to help her, she takes it out on the helper and not the real problem."
    "Wow. Moms really do know everything."
    b "So...keep my distance, then?"
    mom "For a while."
    b "Really, thanks for the advice. Doesn't make me feel much better, but at least now I don't have to worry about what to do."
    mom "Did you want to talk to your father?"
    "And...there goes my comparatively good mood."
    "I've mentioned before about my father having died in Vietnam, and how I had nothing but respect for him."
    "The new dad's name is Steven Marshall. And yeah, Mom took his name."
    "I don't hate him, as such. He's not a bad guy. I just hate that Mom moved on so fast from the man I called my father."
    "It's like she's trying to rewrite the family history. Well, I won't have that - the flight jacket I'm wearing will make sure of that."
    b "Sure, I wouldn't mind talking to my {i}step{/i}father."
    mom "I really wish you wouldn't say it like that. He's as much your father as he is my husband."
    b "My father died 15 years ago."
    mom "I'm not having this argument with you."
    b "Then don't. Just put him on and be done with it."
    mom "...."
    "I hear frustrated noises from the other end, if only for a brief moment. The next thing I hear is Steve's voice."
    dad "Hello?"
    b "It's Bastion. How goes it?"
    dad "As good as always. Boy, you really like to pull your mom's string, don't you?"
    b "Just wish she'd have more respect for the dead."
    dad "I don't think that'll ever change, Bastion. She's pretty quick to forgive and forget, though, and that's why I love her."
    b "Yeah, I gotcha."
    dad "So what do you do now? Practice law?"
    b "Investigation, but close enough."
    dad "I was wondering why your name was in the paper a couple months back; I guess that explains it."
    b "Hey, not to cut you off or anything, but I kind of need the phone line to be open, or I'll never have a case."
    dad "Hey, that's alright, I won't get in your way. You knock 'em dead, sport!"
    b "You too."
    dad "I do try not to, heh!"
    "And he hangs up."
    "Steve is a good guy, all things considered, but he's no Air Force pilot."
    "I have more of a problem with Mom behaving as if Dad never existed than I do with Steve's decision to marry her."
    "The clock on the wall reads 4 AM. I must have dozed off longer than I thought."
    
    scene bg BedroomInteriorFullNight at left
    with dissolve
    "My bedroom TV is still on, as I come to find out when the local station signs back on for the day with more gusto than a TV station really ought to have."
    "Full orchestra, artillery section, and lots of flying numbers across the screen, to celebrate what, exactly? That it's a TV station?"
    "They're having way too much fun with those computer effects."
    "On the bright side, I don't feel especially tired any more, after that conversation."
    "The problem remains, though, that without the job-shadow gig or a case to work on, I'm basically stuck in my apartment with nothing to do."
    "All that's on TV is some rerun of a sitcom from the 50's that isn't especially funny anymore, and I haven't bought any new issues of that computer programming magazine in a while, either, so I don't have any new games to type in to the Tandy."
    "I really don't feel like hitting the Chatbox, either, because it ties up the phone line."
    "That \"Asteroids\" guy is probably still whining in all the threads, anyway."
    
    scene bg Black
    with dissolve
    "...."
    
    scene bg Tandy
    with dissolve
    pc "DEALER DRAWS...{w}\nNINE OF HEARTS and ONE FACE-DOWN CARD.{w}\nYOU DRAW...{w}\nFIVE OF HEARTS and THREE OF DIAMONDS."
    pc "DEALER WINS - !!BLACKJACK!!"
    "...Well, now I've got it to where it's at least drawing cards for me, and random ones at that."
    "Only took me all friggin' day."
    "Dealer still wins with a Blackjack every single time, but I'm not concerned with that yet."
    "The phone startles me, which surprises me, because I should have been expecting a phone call anyway."
    
    scene bg BastionsOffice
    with dissolve
    b "Crowley's office."
    cd "Hi, uh, my name's Chris Davenport...is this Bastion Crowley, the private investigator?"
    b "This is he."
    cd "Please don't hang up - I need help with my mom."
    b "What's the problem?"
    cd "My mom's been arrested on suspicion of murder."
    b "She's innocent, I assume?"
    cd "Well, uh..."
    "Not inspiring much confidence, this man."
    b "Well, you're obviously calling me because you're in need of my services."
    cd "How much do you usually charge? I don't really have a lot of money."
    "Good of him to admit it up front. If I had more of a choice, I might decline his case on that principle, but I'm really hurting for work, and something to get my mind off what happened yesterday."
    b "We'll discuss rates later. I want to hear your story."
    cd "Oh thank you thank you thank you--"
    b "Save it. What's the problem?"
    cd "Okay, uh...geez, where to begin..."
    cd "My parents have been fighting for a long while. Then a week ago, while we're at dinner, Dad never came to the table to eat, so we ate without him...then as we're cleaning up, BOOM!"
    cd "Mom ran off to the bedroom to see what happened, and I don't know what she saw, but she came running back and yelling for someone to call the cops."
    b "Did you?"
    cd "Well yeah! Except when they came, they made Mom a murder suspect and hauled her off to the station!"
    b "So your dad's dead and they suspect your mom? Why didn't she do it?"
    cd "What? What the hell are you saying?"
    b "You obviously don't think your mom did it, or else you wouldn't be calling me. So why do you think she's innocent?"
    cd "She was washing dishes when we heard the boom."
    b "This boom...a gunshot?"
    cd "It'd have to be, I don't think we have any dynamite in the house."
    "Much as I like to think he's joking, it almost feels like he actually seriously considered that possibility."
    b "Well...Mr. Davenport, was it?"
    cd "Chris is fine."
    b "Chris, I'm prepared to take your case. We should meet. My office is on Georgetown Avenue, across from the pay-to-park. Need directions?"
    cd "Let's not meet at your office. I think you should talk to my mom first. How about you meet me at the police station?"
    b "Hell's Fridge?"
    cd "Yeah, that one."
    b "I can be there in half an hour."
    cd "Great. I'll see you there. Look for a guy in a white jacket."
    b "Look for a guy in an Air Force flight coat."
    cd "Gotcha. Alright, Mr. Crowley, I'll see ya."
    b "Likewise. Be careful."
    "I don't wait for him to hang up before I do so myself. Half an hour might have been a bit optimistic, given the bus schedules around here, but I do have a bit of an ace up my sleeve."
    "Someone I've needed to talk to for a while, actually."
    "I grab the phone again and dial another number out of the back of my notebook."
    "Phone" "This is the Eastman Cab Company. Please state your name and a pickup address, and we will send a taxi."
    b "Bastion Crowley, 9923 Georgetown Avenue. Is Rick on duty today?"
    "Phone" "His patrol area crosses Georgetown Avenue today. I will send him your way, Mr. Crowley."
    "I hang up again and grab my usual pocketload of stuff: wallet, notebook, pencil, and ten bucks from the pencil sharpener cash stash."
    
    scene bg ApartmentExterior
    with dissolve
    "Rick's cab is already waiting outside in the two minutes it takes me to get downstairs."
    "Damn, this guy is fast."
    rc "Hop in. We've much to discuss."
    "...He's also a friggin' mind reader, apparently."
    "I don't contradict his wishes. I hop right in to the back seat."
    
    scene bg NullScene
    with dissolve
    # Interior: rick's cab.
    rc "Where you headed?"
    b "Hell's Fridge."
    rc "How soon?"
    b "Half an hour."
    rc "It'll only take about ten minutes in this thing, but we need to talk. Don't worry, I won't run the meter."
    b "Why not?"
    rc "I'll just ask for an up-front payment. I figure...five bucks."
    "I hand it to him in short order, and the bill is barely in his hand before he shifts the taxi into gear and takes off."
    rc "So I figure you're in need of some Ruby-related advice, am I correct?"
    b "How the hell do you pick up on this stuff?"
    rc "I have my sources."
    b "Really? How thorough are these sources?"
    rc "Enough to know that, yesterday, you seriously blew it."
    b "How do I know that's not just a random guess?"
    rc "It doesn't take a rocket scientist to draw a conclusion like that from a sentence like \"I don't need your fucking protection!\""
    "The words still sting, an entire day later, even despite Rick's laughable falsetto."
    b "You know...maybe I should quit booking your taxi."
    rc "You gotta own up to the facts some time, kid."
    "He turns a corner so sharply that the tread marks left by the tires could probably slice an orange."
    rc "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like anything the two of you had together is null and void until you can find some way to make it up to her."
    b "Why do you say it like we were dating? I'm pretty sure our relationship was professional at best."
    rc "Don't put limits like that on yourself. Ruby could very well have had some deep-seated emotions for you, and now you'll never know for sure."
    b "But..."
    rc "Don't gimme that, kid."
    "We're already at the police station. As promised, Rick kills the meter."
    rc "So here's your situation, as best as I've heard from my...ah...sources."
    rc "Ruby and Albert were in a fight. You broke your agreement with Ruby to get Albert to stop, it didn't work, and now she blames you for making things worse. And you're no longer friends."
    rc "Have I got that right so far?"
    b "Painfully so."
    rc "The way I figure, you got three choices."
    rc "You could keep your distance, let Ruby to her own devices as she slowly goes insane and plots to commit a very gruesome homicide."
    rc "You could pull clandestine operations as you figure out what Albert's actually doing and get him in trouble, which may or may not work, since the editor is so hesitant to fire him."
    rc "Or you could march your ass back through that door and tell her that, dammit, you need me in your life, because I hate seeing you like this and I'm prepared to do whatever the hell I can to make things right!"
    "He emphasizes his last point by punching the headrest on the passenger seat next to him."
    b "I assume from the way you said it, that the third option's what I want to go for?"
    rc "Well...maybe yes, maybe no, it's not for me to decide."
    b "Well, gee, that helps a lot."
    rc "I try."
    b "Here's the thing though...the reason I'm in this hot water with Ruby all of a sudden is because I tried that already."
    rc "You know, I was kind of hoping you'd pick up on that. There's a thing I learned about Ruby back when she was in college."
    b "What's that?"
    rc "She likes to fight her own battles. She's an independent woman, for better or for worse, and she hates it when people help her, because she can't reach her real potential."
    b "To a fault, then."
    rc "I know I said I wouldn't tell you any details about our relationship, but..."
    rc "Well, for lack of a better way to put it, that lesson is pretty much the same reason that she and I don't talk anymore."
    b "You'll need to tell me the whole story some day."
    rc "If I do, it'll be with Ruby in the room."
    b "So...never?"
    rc "Play your cards right, kid, and it might happen sooner than you think."
    
    scene bg PoliceStationExterior
    with dissolve
    "The Taxi Guru hits another one out of the park. I thank Rick for his insight and hop out of the cab, but not before dropping a little extra change his way for the help."
    "You usually have to pay for advice as good as that."
    "The police station looks as uninviting as ever. I really don't like coming here."
    "Maybe that's the entire point. Maybe the architect for this building designed it to be as soul-leechingly depressing as possible, to deter people from breaking the law."
    
    scene bg PoliceStation
    with dissolve
    "Or maybe that's why a pair of familiar-looking police officers haven't been fired yet."
    ofm "So the doc says to me, that ain't your lunch, that's evidence!"
    ofc "Ha ha! Oh God, that's the greatest thing ever!"
    ofc "...You didn't eat it, did you?"
    ofm "You gotta be joking, man!"
    ofm "Of course I ate it!"
    ofc "That leftover steak was evidence that woulda proved that poor kid's dog innocent!"
    ofm "But it tasted so good!"
    ofc "And it had doggy drool all over it!"
    ofm "....Excuse me, I'm gonna go puke."
    ofc "And I'm gonna go talk to the Captain."
    ofm "Oh no ya don't, not without me!"
    ofc "You feel like puking all over Captain Armund's shiny new shoes?"
    ofm "I'm not gonna get fired over eating the one thing that'll stop some kid's puppy gettin' put down!"
    ofc "Be my guest, then, but you're still gonna get fired if you puke on the Captain's loafers!"
    ofm "I'll hold it in!"
    ofc "If ya say so!"
    "The PSEPD's personal comic relief squad."
    "I wave to them as I pass to the reception desk. They don't seem to notice."
    "Desk Sergeant" "Bastion Crowley?"
    b "I seem to be getting a reputation around here. Should I be worried?"
    "Desk Sergeant" "Long as you keep on the good side of the law, it ain't no concern of mine."
    b "Duly noted. Has a boy named Chris Davenport been by here?"
    "Desk Sergeant" "Lanky kid, white coat? Yeah, he's down in the holding area."
    b "I'm here to visit him. Could I get an escort down there?"
    "Desk Sergeant" "Nah, no need. Place's got enough security as it is. Just down the stairs, through the door at the end of the hall. Don't go bargin' into the evidence rooms on the way there."
    b "The thought is tempting, but I don't think I need to yet, in any case."
    "Desk Sergeant" "No, believe me, you don't want to go in there. Things best left undisturbed, if you get my meaning."
    b "Fair enough."
    "The stairs just happen to be right next to the Sergeant's desk. They're the same ones I took to the records room, a long time ago."
    "The door at the end of the hall is almost entirely unadorned; it's a simple, door-shaped brick of metal with a solid handle and simple hinges."
    
    scene bg NullScene
    with dissolve
    # scene: Holding cell waiting area
    "I find, however, that this is only the outer door. Inside, there are a handful of bored-looking officers sitting in a waiting area, with one standing behind a check-in counter. There is quite the assortment of filing cabinets behind him."
    "Desk Guard" "Need you to sign in, please, and place any weapons or sharp objects on the counter."
    "I take the pen from his clipboard and write in my name and the current time."
    b "Uh...are pencils okay to take in?"
    "I show him my notebook, with the pencil slipped into the binding rings."
    "Desk Guard" "I won't take it from you, but stay at least two feet away from the cell door if you plan on taking it out."
    "Desk Guard" "We had an incident some time ago where a newspaper reporter came in and damn near got his pen shoved in his eye."
    b "Geez. I'll make a note of that."
    "Desk Guard" "Are you looking for someone specific?"
    b "There a Mrs. Davenport in here?"
    "Desk Guard" "Yeah. Holding cell 2. Had a kid in a white coat come by looking for her, too. Poor kid looked worried as hell."
    b "Thanks."
    "The desk guard pulls a lever next to his window. A barred door, currently blocking the way from the waiting area into the holding cells, slides open after several seconds."
    
    scene bg NullScene
    with dissolve
    # scene: holding cells
    "There aren't really a lot of cells here. It doesn't seem like a particularly high-crime day, though, since at least there are currently only two people to a given cell."
    "Then again, it does seem like the Pacific Southeast speeds their recent arrests through the system to get them their trials."
    "Something that, upon pondering a bit, might actually come to bite me in the ass soon enough."
    cd "Uh...are you Mr. Crowley?"
    b "Yeah. Chris Davenport?"
    "He just nods."
    b "And who am I here to see?"
    cd "Mom."
    "The one woman in the entire cell block approaches the bars. She could have looked young at some point, but she's obviously been crying, which ruins what makeup she has on and makes her look older than she probably is."
    "Her hair is almost stereotypical 1950's housewife, done up in the sort of curls that would make Lucille Ball jealous, but even those are beginning to fall apart."
    md "Who is this? Did you call a detective?"
    cd "Yeah, Mom, I did. I'm not going to let you just sit and rot in there."
    md "You didn't need to waste his time or your money. I killed your father, and nothing will change that."
    cd "But you {i}didn't{/i}! You were with us in the kitchen!"
    md "It will be a lot easier and hurt a lot less if you just let this happen."
    cd "Is that {i}you{/i} talking, Mom, or is that your submissive side? Dad really got to you, didn't he?"
    b "Okay, what the hell's going on here?"
    "Chris introduces me to his mother, Martha Davenport. Mother to three children, married to a loving husband (for all I know)...except not any more."
    md "I murdered James Davenport. I shot him with his own gun. I did it. I'm going to jail."
    "As accepting as she seems of that fact, her voice betrays sadness, regret, resentment."
    "It doesn't take Sherlock to see that there's more than one side to this story."
    b "Alright...Chris, can you explain what she's going on about?"
    cd "I told you over the phone what I saw, right?"
    b "Yeah. So why does she say she did it?"
    md "It will be painful for the whole family to go through the police hassle of collecting evidence, interviewing..."
    cd "And it's not already painful?"
    md "That would make things worse! You shouldn't have called this man, Chris!"
    b "Martha, listen to yourself! Is that the voice of a clear conscience? Why are you taking the fall for something that could easily have been done by someone else?"
    md "Because it would only be--"
    b "More painful for the family, I get it. But have you ever stopped to consider that, because you're taking the fall, whoever actually did this could still be out there? Your husband's killer - his {i}real{/i} killer - could kill again!"
    md "I want to respect James' wishes and not let this go on longer than it has to, for the good of the family."
    cd "No! You're just too clingy to realize that your husband didn't love you!"
    "Chris has his face pressed into the bars of the cell, as Martha backs away a bit to preserve the personal bubble."
    md "As your mother, I want you to fire this man before he tears this family apart!"
    cd "No! I want to know what happened!"
    md "You can't handle it!"
    cd "Shut up!"
    "I grab Chris by the shoulder and pull him away from the cell."
    b "Clearly, your mother isn't going to be much help."
    cd "I don't care what she says. I want to know exactly what happened, and I am damn sure it didn't happen the way she said."
    b "It won't be pretty. It won't be pleasant for anybody involved. Are you really sure you want me to do this?"
    cd "I am absolutely sure. What do I owe you?"
    b "I don't ask for much, but a detective isn't usually the sort of thing you could pay for on a student budget."
    "You could imagine from that line that I've thrown my modesty out the window. You'd probably be right - but the bills have got to be paid sometime."
    "I've still got one more month of back-rent, and it would sure be nice to eat something that doesn't say \"dehydrated, processed\" on the wrapper, for once."
    cd "I'll figure something out. Now what do I owe you?"
    b "How about $40 a day plus expenses?"
    "I'm really selling myself short here, but I could argue in favor of knowing my customer."
    cd "What do you say we call it $60 a day, and forget the expenses?"
    b "You drive a hard bargain, but I'll take it. Got it on you?"
    cd "Uh...sorry, I don't..."
    "Not looking too promising, so far."
    b "Where do you live, where can I contact you?"
    cd "4440 Tannisburg, not far from here."
    "I hand him a blank page from my notebook, and the pencil. He copies down his address and home phone number, and he's careful to warn me that he doesn't have an answering machine."
    "Weird. Even I have an answering machine; I wonder why he doesn't?" # author's note: because Dad smashed it. =P
    b "I'm off to call in a few favors. We'll be in touch, Mr. Davenport."
    "I ignore Martha's desperate plea for me to stop. Work is work, I reason to myself; I should have figured from the start that sleuthing would involve conflicts of interest."
    
    scene bg NullScene
    with dissolve
    # scene: outside Standish's office
    "My first stop on my quest is to get some inside assistance. So far, all I've got to go by are the opposing testimonies of both Chris and Martha."
    "Even though I've only seen this particular office door once, I remember it like it was yesterday."
    "Cold steel, and nothing but a slit at eye-height to see through."
    "My knocks resonate through it like it's an empty warehouse."
    "The eyehole opens briefly, revealing Detective Standish's piercing-yet-weary eyes. I offer him a greeting by means of a cheesy grin."
    "He opens the door in short order, but not all the way."
    st "Mr. Crowley. Did you happen to stumble upon another Missing Person?"
    b "Not really. I'm here because I need a favor or two."
    st "And what makes you think you've earned a favor from the great Grand Poobah of the Disappeared?"
    b "Didn't I pretty much solve your own case for you two months ago?"
    st "...Eh, fair enough. What can I do ya for?"
    b "Can you get me access to the Davenport murder case?"
    st "Davenport...that's still ongoing, isn't it?"
    b "Not from what I've heard. It sounds like they're already prepared to prosecute Martha Davenport."
    st "And what makes you so interested in the case, all of a sudden?"
    b "I believe she didn't do it, and I'm going to figure out who did."
    st "Boy, you don't beat around the bush, do ya? ...Unfortunately there's only so much I can do for you."
    st "I'm not in the right department - this is a Homicide case, not Missing Persons - and I'm not really allowed to do anything that might impede a police investigation."
    b "So...you can't help?"
    st "I never said that. I can get you copies of the most important case paperwork, but the rest is up to you."
    
    scene bg PoliceStationRecordsRoom
    with dissolve
    "Standish drags me down to the administrative section of the precinct, which happens to be in the same part of the station as the records room."
    "After grabbing the important papers and making a few photocopies, Standish takes his leave. I hang out in the records room for a bit and look over the file."
    "The official police report is pretty cut-and-dry..."
    "At just before 7:00 PM on December 11th, 911 Emergency dispatched police to a house on the southwest side of town."
    "The caller, identifying themselves as Chris Davenport, stated that he and his family heard a loud gunshot from the master bedroom of his house, and that his mother instructed him to call the police."
    "The responding officers found Mr. James Davenport, 48, dead of a shotgun wound to the stomach. A 20 gauge, single-barreled break-action shotgun (registered to James Davenport) was confiscated as evidence. Powder burns surrounding the wound indicate that the victim was shot at close range."
    "The coroner's report says that Mr. Davenport did not die immediately; there was a period of around a minute before he finally bled out."
    "The shotgun itself is covered in the victim's blood, with potential fingerprint evidence having been smudged off by the rubber dishwashing gloves that Martha Davenport had been wearing at the time of James' death."
    "Martha was found with many blood stains on her gloves and apron; the smudges from the shotgun seem to correspond to the blood stains on her dishwashing gloves. Therefore, Martha Davenport was arrested for the murder of James Davenport, pending trial."
    "It says here that the trial date is the 20th."
    "Today is...the 17th."
    "Looks like I'll be flying by the seat of my pants to get this done."
    "The report has a few other files attached. One is the autopsy report for James Davenport, which clearly indicates that he died from a shotgun wound to the stomach. He was shot at point-blank, with the exit wound on his back."
    "I see people dying all the time in movies and TV shows, but never in quite this clinical detail. It's so cold and precise."
    "I make a mental note not to examine the corpse."
    "There are a handful of photographs; they're not very clear, thanks to the photocopier, but they show (from a distance) James Davenport's corpse, and the shotgun on the floor, with a ruler for scale."
    "The last paper in the bundle is what looks like a floor plan of a house."
    "There are some scrawled notes littering the paper. Bedroom, bathroom, hallway. The master bedroom is where the highest concentration of them happens to be."
    "\"Victim.\" Cold as ice, written in small-caps for clarity."
    "Next to him is a little curved line, half the height of the little stick-figure corpse. It's labeled, \"Shotgun.\""
    "I notice the line is passing straight through the little wedge that indicates a door."
    "All the action, so to speak, seems to have taken place directly in front of the door to the master bedroom."
    "So far, I don't see a lot here that would do to indicate Martha's innocence. It's pretty straight-forward."
    "There are a couple things from the text of the report that concern me, though; Detective Standish isn't in charge of the case, though, so I'll need to go find whoever is."
    "Detective Assigned: Det. Indira Haseem (Homicide)."
    "...Where does that name come from? India?"
    "I suppose I'd best go track her down. (I'm pretty sure that's a female name, anyway...)"
    
    scene bg NullScene
    with dissolve
    "Some inquiries with the desk sergeant point me upstairs, across the hall from the old interrogation rooms (i.e. Standish's office)."
    "Homicide division is notably much nicer than the cold cement. The deep green carpet suggests wealth (like a Wall Street stockbroker's office), and the walls are lined with a nice oak side paneling below matching green wallpaper."
    "It's oddly relaxing in here, despite the \"HOMICIDE\" sign on the door."
    "There are four people in here, only one of which seems to match the mental description I had."
    b "Excuse me, Detective Haseem?"
    "Woman" "Not me."
    "The dark-skinned woman I'm facing points to her left, across the room at another woman, without so much as glancing at me."
    "The real Indira Haseem has dark hair in a bobbed haircut, but that's about the only thing I got right. Her skin is a fair bit lighter than expected, and when she greets me, her voice is completely unaccented."
    ih "Racist, much?"
    b "I didn't have a photo."
    ih "No excuse for just assuming who's who. Should have asked first."
    b "I apologize."
    ih "Don't sweat it. What do you want?"
    "I find it interesting how she can convey meaning in only a few words. The sheer intensity reminds me quite a lot of a certain movie cop with a big handgun."
    "Call me sexist if you must, but I didn't previously think a woman could be nearly as intense as Callahan."
    b "I'm a private detective, name's Bastion Crowley. I'm looking into the Davenport murder case and had some questions."
    ih "Don't bother. It's in the bag."
    b "There's some areas of the evidence I'm not sure about."
    ih "You want to look at the stuff, right?"
    b "If I could, yes."
    ih "Denied."
    b "Your report says something about bloody smudges on the murder weapon. What caused those?"
    ih "It's all there in the report, if you'd bother to read it."
    b "Did you check for gunpowder residue at all?"
    ih "No need. Mrs. Davenport already confessed."
    b "You didn't go through the motions anyway?"
    ih "You here to tell me how to do my job?"
    b "Just covering all the bases."
    ih "It's pretty obvious what happened."
    b "From what I've seen of the report, there's every possibility that someone other than Martha Davenport fired that shotgun."
    ih "And what's GSR testing going to prove?"
    b "If there's any residue on the gloves, then there you go. If there isn't, then that gives me a bit of leverage towards the real solution."
    ih "You're not making a good case for yourself."
    b "Look, I just think there are some things your team missed that might show this thing in a completely different light."
    ih "Still not convincing me. Look, if you're so dead set on proving me wrong, go talk to the lab techs. I'll write you a pass."
    "She scribbles a few words on a notebook page and tears it out."
    ih "Just don't come bug me unless you've got something good. I got paperwork I need to finish."
    "I take her paper - \"This guy's okay,\" it simply states, followed by her initials - and head back downstairs to the evidence room."
    
    scene bg NullScene
    with dissolve
    # scene: Evidence room.
    "The crime lab is surprisingly messy. It doesn't look like there's any serious investigation going on, though. I catch a faint whiff of root beer from somewhere."
    lt "Game point!"
    "The sound of a ping-pong game echoes through the lab. The \"ball\" doesn't seem to be the usual table tennis ball, though; from the way it splinters every time it's rallied back and forth, I think it might be a ball of ice."
    "Reminds me of science class..."
    "I round a corner to see that the match is between two men in white lab coats. One of them is a fair bit older, probably in his fifties, but he's managed a respectable swept-back hairdo with only a hint of grey at the roots."
    "The other guy is Asian and barely older than me. His lab coat is unbuttoned, revealing an Aerosmith band T-shirt and ripped jeans."
    "The older guy lets the ball through his guard, and it shatters against the tiled floor."
    me "Not bad, Johnny, you've been practicing."
    lt "Yeah, but you were really putting on a clinic for those first couple points."
    "They finally notice me."
    lt "Are you cleared to be down here?"
    "I show them Haseem's note and my investigator's license."
    b "Name's Bastion Crowley. Had some questions about the evidence for the Davenport murder case."
    lt "I'm Johnny Yang, I handle most of the lab analysis around here."
    me "My name's Felix Maximov. I'm the county medical examiner."
    me "Anything you need to know about the victim?"
    b "Did you test either the victim or Martha Davenport for gunshot residue?"
    lt "No, I was never told to check. Once that confession rolled through, we were told to stop."
    b "Well, could you check for me, then?"
    lt "We're...in the middle of something."
    b "Yeah. You look really busy with your nitrogen-based ping pong."
    lt "...."
    b "Look, are you gonna help, or do I need to get the Captain involved?"
    lt "Eep! Alright, I'll do it. What do you need, specifically?"
    b "The report here says Martha Davenport was wearing dishwashing gloves at the time she was arrested, and that they had blood on them. I need to know if there's any gunpowder on those gloves."
    lt "It's been about a week since the incident, though. Any GSR I find on those gloves is going to be barely enough to show."
    b "What I need to know is if there was ever any on there to begin with. I'm hoping there wasn't; it'd make it that much easier to show Mrs. Davenport's innocence."
    lt "Alright, I'll take care of it."
    b "Anything I can do to expedite the process?"
    lt "Just keep outta the way, is all I can tell you."
    "Yang grabs a pad of complicated-looking evidence transferral forms from the desk and leaves the room."
    me "Sounds to me like you're convinced she didn't do it."
    b "Problem with that, Doctor?"
    me "No, actually. When I was told to examine her husband's corpse, the Department was working under the assumption that she did it."
    b "Because she confessed, right?"
    me "Exactly."
    b "Well, based on what her son Chris was telling me, it sounds like James Davenport was a domineering sort of guy. Her confession could have been made under duress."
    me "But...James Davenport was dead, how could Martha be under duress?"
    b "She said something in that holding cell. If she confessed to the murder, she said it'd be less painful for the rest of the family to not drag things out."
    me "You may be right, Basil."
    b "....Bastion."
    me "If it's alright with you, I'd prefer to call you Basil."
    b "Huh...okay..."
    me "In any case, I am on your side. What can I do to help?"
    "I skim the police report again to find the medical examiner's report."
    "It states, as cold and methodically as possible, the exact locations, sizes, and shapes of James Davenport's fatal wounds."
    "There's nothing here I can dispute. It all seems just fine to me. But..."
    b "Do you know much about blood splatter, Dr. Maximov?"
    me "Some. The department tends to get someone else to do the splatter analysis, but I might be of use."
    b "Sit tight, Doc. As soon as Yang's back with the results of that GSR test, I might need you to look at those rubber gloves."
    "Johnny Yang returns in about 20 minutes with a fresh sheet of dot-matrix printer paper.{w} None of the other pages of the report were printed on dot-matrix...I wonder if that's Yang's preference, or if the PSEPD is slowly rolling it out as a standard."
    "...That's probably the geekiest you'll ever hear me get about it."
    "Yang's report - written to specification, of course - says, in so many words, that there was not a single trace of gunshot residue to be found on Martha Davenport's dishwashing gloves."
    b "Well. Looks like we're getting somewhere. Johnny, were you able to borrow the gloves for us?"
    lt "Unfortunately, no. The Custodian won't let me take them out of the lab."
    me "Makes my job more difficult."
    lt "Not to worry, though, I thought ahead and borrowed one of the Polaroids from Crime Scene Documentation."
    "He fans out a stack of four photos like it's a poker hand.{w} Read 'em and weep."
    "Weeping is one thing we aren't doing right now, though. The four photos are clear shots of the front and back of each of the gloves. The gloves are bloodstained, true, but Felix has his doubts."
    me "These bloodstain patterns. The distribution of them is all wrong."
    b "Distribution?"
    me "When blood splatters, the patterns it leaves can be interpreted almost more clearly than a fingerprint, depending on the situation."
    me "Blood splatters can tell you where an incident occurred, how long it's been since then, the distance of a victim from his attacker, the distance of both from the nearest wall..."
    me "Most importantly, you can tell whether bloodstains on gloves came from the wearer firing a shotgun at their target or not."
    b "Sounds like news to me. What can you figure out from these?"
    me "These stains are pretty smudged, from the look of it."
    lt "Confirmed. The blood on the gloves dried in that shape."
    me "If Martha Davenport had fired the shotgun at her husband while wearing those gloves, the blood splatter would be more fine, and wouldn't have smudged quite like this."
    me "It looks to me like these bloodstains did not come from the shotgun blast. Perhaps Martha handled the victim posthumously, but she was not the one to fire the shot."
    b "Can I get that in writing?"
    me "That's gonna be tricky."
    b "Why's that?"
    me "The top brass won't like seeing that Police Department staff helped to contradict a police investigation."
    lt "Oh, come on, I already printed out a report and took photos with CSD-issued equipment."
    b "Yang's right, Doc. I'd like to think we're all in this together."
    me "Now hold on a second, Basil."
    b "Bastion."
    me "We've been over this."
    b "Fine then. Basil."
    me "Do remember that we are employees of the Pacific Southeast Police Department, ergo, employees of the government of Pacific County."
    me "We respond only to police authority."
    b "Or the taxpayers, right?"
    "Ignoring the fact that, every time I pay taxes, I get the return in exactly the amount I paid, because I haven't had taxable income for the last couple years."
    me "...You might have a point, but I've got one too - we're going to need adequate compensation."
    b "A little palm-greasing, right?"
    me "You're catching on."
    b "Alright. How's this - I'll cut you in on a piece of the action, once this case is settled, if you agree to put your findings regarding the blood splatter analysis in writing, and potentially render further services should I need them."
    me "I'm guessing you don't have any cash on you."
    "Hearing someone else say it just makes it feel that much worse."
    b "...I won't deny that."
    me "You drive a hard bargain, Basil, but I'll have to accept."
    b "Really?"
    me "Let me put it this way - your offer sucks, but I couldn't live with the thought that I'd be letting an innocent woman go to jail due to my own inactivity."
    me "But since you offered, I'd naturally also take the piece of the action."
    "Crap, I knew I should have appealed to his conscience first."
    "Still new at this whole sleuthing thing, after all."
    "Felix leaves the room to follow up on a thought he suddenly has. I've got a bit of time to kill before he returns, so I try chatting up the lab tech."
    b "So, Johnny."
    lt "Yeah?"
    b "Why'd you help me out, instead of asking for a bribe first?"
    lt "Just about the same reason the good Dr. Maximov did. I'm a little pissed off that the brass told me not to do my job, in spite of the confession we suddenly got. That's not procedure."
    b "So you're doing this to help an innocent woman avoid jail time?"
    lt "Partially, yeah. The other half is...well, I gotta earn my keep somehow, and it just doesn't sit well with me to be earning what I do by doing nothing."
    b "Where are you from, if you don't mind my asking?"
    lt "My parents were both born in Hong Kong, but they'd been living here for about five years before I was born."
    b "Hong Kong? The British part, or the Chinese part?"
    lt "Dude, it's Hong Kong. It's kinda hard to define which part's which."
    b "Have you ever visited there before?"
    lt "Nah. Mom says the place sucked, anyhow."
    b "Mind if I ask a really personal and potentially offensive question?"
    lt "Really rather you didn't."
    b "Fair enough."
    "...."
    "What the hell's holding up the doc?"
    "I've been standing here for fifteen minutes. The riveting conversation with Johnny only took up about half of that."
    "A clock on the wall claims it's past noon, but Yang tells me they haven't rolled it back for the winter yet."
    "Only after I notice this, does Dr. Maximov return."
    me "Bad news."
    b "What is it?"
    me "Evidence custodian's starting to get suspicious. I can't help you anymore."
    b "I offered you a cut, and you're still chickening out?"
    me "Hey, you don't know the true extent of the madness of Internal Affairs."
    b "...You're right, I don't."
    "Not outside of a few episodes of ADAM-12."
    me "I did get you a report, mostly from memory, of the blood splatters."
    b "Mostly?"
    me "Entirely."
    b "Court-admissible?"
    me "Potentially. I'll want to corroborate it later, if I can get the chance to look at the evidence in person again."
    "I look over the typewritten piece of paper that I'm handed. The picture it paints is...well, it's hard to say it really does paint a picture, but the text seems identical to the findings Maximov had told me a quarter-hour ago."
    b "Thanks for the help, anyway."
    me "I take care of my own."
    "Yeah. Don't pat yourself on the back yet, Doc."
    b "So since I can't send you guys on errands for me anymore, where do I go from here?"
    me "You're asking me?"
    b "Well, either one of you."
    lt "If you want my advice, I'd build up a clearer picture of what happened before the murder."
    b "Sounds like you know how this sort of thing works."
    lt "It's a bit like the beginning of an episode of Columbo. You see exactly how the murder happens, who does it, but the show itself is all about figuring out how to pin the murder on the suspect."
    b "You're saying you know who did it?"
    lt "Well, more the opposite - we don't know exactly who killed James Davenport, but we can safely work on the assumption that it was not his wife."
    b "So I should go figure out an alibi for the wife, right?"
    me "I'd personally start by interviewing the rest of the family. See if anybody can remember exactly what was happening in the days leading up to his death."
    b "Gotcha. Thanks for your help, guys. Promise I won't tell IA about it."
    me "You shouldn't need to."
    
    scene bg PoliceStation
    with dissolve
    "No feeling is more welcome to me than the feeling of being a man on a mission."
    "I know exactly what I need to do, and I will not stop until it is done."
    "I will not think about anything else. Especially not...nope, not thinking about that."
    "On the way out, I stop at the desk sergeant one last time."
    "I don't even need to say anything to him."
    "Desk Sergeant" "If you're looking for that kid with the white coat, he left about half an hour ago."
    b "Thanks."
    "The notebook refreshes my memory on the Davenports' home address: 4440 Tannisburg Road. That's...actually not far from here. About ten minutes on the bus would get me there."
    "But of course, that's a bus.{w} You might already know how I am about buses.{w} There's a certain hit single that describes my experiences pretty much to a tee. I think it's called \"Another One Rides The Bus.\""
    "Well, what's ten minutes on the bus to an hour of walking?"
    
    scene bg PoliceStationExterior
    with dissolve
    
    
    # Skipping to about halfway through the case, where Bastion happens to be in the neighborhood of the newspaper office and drops in...
    # Begin hash-retcon.
    #"But when I skip the waiting room and cut around the cubicles, I find that Ruby isn't at her desk like usual."
    #"Instead, there is a slightly overweight blonde guy, wearing a suit that is entirely too large on him."
    #eic "Are you Bastion Crowley?"
    #b "I...suppose I am."
    #eic "I'm here on behalf of my police-blotter columnist. She says you're a problem."
    #b "Not nearly as big a problem as him."
    #"I point unsubtly towards the broom-closet-office where Albert typically resides. He's not in at the moment, either, strangely."
    #eic "Albert provides a useful service to the paper. He is difficult to replace. You, on the other hand, have so far alienated a valuable employee and stolen a coffee dispenser from the break room."
    #b "Relocated, not stolen."
    #eic "As Editor in Chief of the Pacific Southeast Daily News, and the owner of this building, I am asking you to leave."
    #b "If I don't?"
    #eic "Then the police become involved."
    #b "You know, Ruby doesn't like people fighting her battles for her."
    #eic "She specifically requested that I be here to deal with you, should you show up."
    #"...Maybe she hates me after all."
    #"Here, I thought getting back on speaking terms would be as simple as dropping in on her, giving her a great big hug, and apologizing for being a jerk."
    #"Or he might be lying."
    #"I don't know where this suspicion came from, but nothing else in my mind seems to contradict it..."
    #"Ruby's been mad at me before, come to think of it...and she did at some point make it up to me, or else I'd never have been allowed to talk to her again when we bumped into each other so many months ago."
    #"But then, maybe I had pissed her off back in high school, and she forgot about it in the face of something more drastic."
    #"I don't have time to think about it. I need to focus on the case."
    
    scene bg NullScene
    with dissolve
    # Scene: Dana Corseau Elementary School.
    "I get something of a run-around."
    "I first ask at the information desk where Elmo Davenport's class is. I'm told the location of the room, after some palm-greasing, but he's not there."
    "Elmo's teacher, however, does confirm that Elmo is seeing a school counselor today."
    "Except the counselor is not in her office."
    "After another five bucks, the secretary points me towards a \"relax\" room in the school library. At first, I'm convinced she's leading me on, but Elmo and the school counselor are there."
    "I tap on the glass window of the door. Its only adornment is a \"RELAX!\" sign, made from cutouts of construction paper."
    "I don't know about you, but I would probably relax more easily if the door sign weren't yelling at me."
    "The school counselor - a 40-something lady with brown hair and a pleasant red suit - answers the door by opening it just a crack."
    "Counselor" "We're in the middle of a private session, could you come back later?"
    "She whispers it quietly enough that I almost can't hear it, despite the dead silence of the library."
    b "I apologize for the interruption, but could I borrow Elmo for a moment?"
    "Counselor" "Who are you?"
    b "Usually people don't ask so bluntly. My name's Bastion, I'm a private detective."
    "Out comes the ID."
    "Counselor" "Are you aware what this poor young man is going through? We don't need people like you poking in and traumatizing young children with criminal matters. It's bad enough this sort of thing is all over the news."
    b "If it makes you feel any better, he's not a suspect, and I just need to ask him a few questions that only he would be able to answer."
    "Counselor" "He's told me a lot of things already; I could probably answer them for you."
    b "I'd rather hear Elmo answer them."
    "Counselor" "If I might tell you first, Elmo hasn't been told any of the details of his situation yet. I doubt you'll get anything useful to your investigation."
    b "Could I at least come in and give it a try?"
    ed "Miss Karen, who's that?"
    "She backs up from the door a bit."
    "Counselor" "Uh...Elmo, this man says he wants to ask you some questions."
    ed "Like a test?"
    b "No, not like a test. Uh...Miss Karen, was it?"
    "Counselor" "Dr. Karen Zymzyck. The kids call me Miss Karen."
    b "May I come in?"
    "She finally relents and allows me through the door. The Relax Room is pretty boring on the inside. The walls and carpet are matching shades of baby blue, with three purple beanbag chairs on the floor and nothing else."
    b "You're Elmo Davenport, right?"
    ed "Yup."
    b "My name's Bastion. Like Sebastion, without the Se."
    ed "Nice to meet ya."
    "He's the first to stick a hand out to shake. He's surprisingly polite for a kindergartener."
    b "How are you feeling today?"
    ed "Eh, not bad."
    b "I'm here to ask you some questions about your dad. They're not hard questions. If you don't know, just tell me whatever you think you can. Is that alright?"
    ed "Yup."
    b "When was the last time you saw your dad?"
    ed "Um...a while."
    b "A while?"
    ed "Like...um...how do you say more than a day?"
    b "Do you mean a week?"
    ed "I think so."
    "It feels like I know more than he does. But that's not what I'm doing here. I need to figure out the extent to which Elmo was being sheltered from his parents' arguments."
    "I can't just ask him up front, though."
    b "Do you know where your dad is?"
    ed "He's not here."
    b "Not here?"
    ed "Like he went on vaca-shun. He's gonna be back."
    b "Did he tell you where he was going?"
    ed "Nope. He prob'ly didn't want Mom to get...juh...jell-us."
    "Councilor" "Very good, Elmo!"
    b "Huh?"
    "Councilor" "He just learned that word today in class. Jealous."
    "Oh, right. Positive reinforcement. Like he's a damn dog."
    b "Do you know why your dad went on vacation?"
    ed "He keeps on saying, \"Gimme a break.\""
    b "A break?"
    ed "Yeah, like \"Gimme a God-damn break.\""
    "Councilor" "Elmo, don't say that word!"
    ed "What word?"
    "Councilor" "...."
    b "She means \"God-damn.\" You're not supposed to say that until you're grown up."
    ed "Why not?"
    b "Because...uh...God doesn't like it. If God hears you saying that, he gives you cooties."
    ed "Cooties? Ugh! Blech!"
    "He pretends to retch on the floor, but obviously gets the message."
    ed "Wait, why don't grown-ups get cooties?"
    b "Uh...I'll tell you later, if you promise to answer a few more questions, alright?"
    ed "Okay."
    b "What are your parents like?"
    ed "My mom's real nice. She cooks food and buys stuff."
    b "Does your mom get mad about things?"
    ed "Sometimes, but everybody gets mad."
    b "What about your dad?"
    ed "He makes the money that Mom uses to buy stuff. I don't see him much. He works a lot."
    b "Did...uh...do your parents get mad at each other?"
    ed "Sometimes, but everybody gets mad."
    b "Do you know why they get mad?"
    ed "Mom and Dad get mad at each other sometimes. Mom buys cool stuff sometimes, but Dad doesn't think it's cool."
    b "Dad gets mad at her because she buys useless stuff?"
    ed "Cool stuff."
    b "What kind of cool stuff?"
    ed "I got some goodies a while ago."
    b "Goodies?"
    ed "I got a tape player!"
    "A tape player? Aren't those things kind of expensive? ...Hmm, that's a thought."
    # later, in the Davenport master bedroom
    "The young Miss Davenport returns to her parents' bedroom carrying a brightly-colored tape recorder with a nondescript white tape inside."
    "She places the recorder carefully on the bed next to where I'm sitting and hesitantly hits the Play button."
    "What I hear, at first, is the voice of Brooke's younger brother, Elmo, belting out what sounds like a show tune themed after flavors of cookies.{w} It takes me a while to realize that it's actually that commercial for the bakery at the mall.{w} I swear, if they hired this kid to sing it for them, their sales would go up tenfold."
    "Suddenly, Elmo's voice trails off. A stern, adult, male voice orders him to his room. Presumably, he complies, but judging from what I hear next, he must have left his recorder where it was before leaving."
    "I soon realize that this voice would have to be James Davenport."
    jd "Martha!{w} ...{b}MARTHA!{/b}"
    md "What do you want now?"
    jd "Whatever happened to dinner?"
    md "It's not ready yet."
    jd "Well, what's the excuse this time?"
    md "I only just got back from picking up dinner fifteen minutes ago."
    jd "Well, it only takes ten minutes to bake a pizza. You could have had it ready by now."
    md "No, it'd take ten minutes if the oven was already hot."
    "James seems to ignore Martha's sound logic, and continues ranting."
    jd "On top of that, you got home a lot later than usual. Why?"
    md "I had to pick up the kids."
    jd "You're home by three-thirty every other day. It's almost five."
    md "Are you living in the past? I thought I told you I've been working afternoon shifts these last couple weeks."
    jd "Aren't I providing for the family just fine as it is? All you need to do is stay home and make sure there's food ready when I'm home."
    md "James, stop and think about our situation. We just don't have the money to live the way we used to anymore."
    jd "And why is that? Did you go out and buy more useless shit on MY paycheck?"
    md "I have no idea what you're talking about."
    jd "You think I don't read your check register? Three dollars every day for 'groceries'? That adds up!"
    md "That is my lunch! People need to eat!"
    jd "And another thing! Where in God's name did you get this?"
    "I can't tell what he's referring to, but Brooke looks away from the recorder like she knows what comes next.{w} Something tells me she's heard this recording a few times."
    md "That isn't mine, it belongs to someone I work with."
    jd "You're not telling me something, Martha."
    md "I'm telling you everything."
    jd "Who owns the watch? Is it that fucking greaser?"
    "Brooke, who is sitting on her parents' bed, cringes heavily."
    md "Don't call him that!"
    # SFX: slap
    "A loud, percussive noise rings out from the speaker on the tape player, probably a slap. I hear Martha cry out in pain."
    jd "Is this his watch?"
    md "No!"
    "Another slap. Martha starts crying."
    jd "Are you seeing that fucking greaser after work? Is that why I don't have any fucking dinner to eat tonight?"
    md "NO!"
    "Yet another slap and a scream from Martha, who is still crying quite loudly.{w} Brooke curls up more with each successive blow, almost as if she's the one taking the hits."
    jd "Go cook your god-damn pizza, you fuckin' crybaby."
    "Martha's voice fades from the tape. James keeps mumbling to himself."
    jd "Bitch thinks she needs to make her own money, like mine's not good enough for her anymore."
    "I hear a strange \"clack\" from the recorder."
    jd "What the hell's this doing in the middle of the floor? {i}Elmo!{/i} Come pick up your damn toys!"
    "Brooke lets the recording play for a few more seconds before she hits the stop button."
    bd "That oughta give you some background."
    b "Where'd this recording come from?"
    bd "This is Elmo's Christmas present from last year." 
    "She's gesturing towards the tape recorder."
    bd "Probably the most expensive thing any of us ever got."
    b "Is that why your parents started fighting?"
    bd "No. That's been going on for a few years now."
    b "Your parents didn't always used to fight?"
    bd "Well...their relationship was never perfect, but it didn't start getting really bad until Elmo was born."
    b "Is Elmo an illegitimate child?"
    bd "No, he's not. He's as much a Davenport as Chris and me."
    b "So what's the deal with your mom working?"
    bd "She's been working the produce department at the supermarket since...I think Easter.{w} Means Chris and I have to ride the bus to and from school, but hell, we're not eating \"nothing sandwiches\" for lunch anymore."
    b "And your dad doesn't like that?"
    bd "He's got a good job. ...*had* a good job. Until like two months ago."
    b "When was the tape recorded?"
    bd "A month or two before that, I think."
    # oops, i guess i forgot to write stuff here?
    b "What'd your dad do?"
    bd "He was the head accountant at this tech place across town. He answered directly to the branch's vice president."
    b "Wouldn't happen to remember the name of \"this tech place,\" would you?"
    bd "MechTronic Systems. It's a long way from here, though. Dad always used to get pissed off at the traffic."
    
    # skipping further ahead...
    "I can scarcely believe it, but I've nearly exhausted all of my leads."
    "James Davenport was obviously not living happily, but I can't get quite as far as being able to prove it in court. I can only provide a few flimsy testimonies from his kids."
    "His boss is an asshole, but there's no way he did it."
    "Brooke doesn't even know how to hold a shotgun, let alone load or fire it."
    "Elmo...well, he probably couldn't even lift the thing, and I doubt he'd be able to pull the trigger, either."
    "Chris is the only other person that could lift the gun, but for obvious reasons, I don't think he did it, either."
    "I restlessly flip through the notebook containing all my case notes. Nearly all of my leads have checkmarks next to them."
    "Though I notice...one of the checkmarks isn't really a checkmark, so much as it's accidental bleedthrough from the previous page."
    "The line next to it reads, \"Ralph's.\""
    "Hmm. Chris did tell me his mom had been working a part-time job to keep them in money, and I did find a Ralph's name badge in her stuff."
    "I guess it's time I looked into that side of the story."
    
    # later, at Ralph's
    "Ever since I started doing my shopping at the mini-mart down the block, I'd pretty much forgotten that our town had a little family supermarket like this."
    "The floor tiling pattern is a bit of a strain on the eyes, going between baby blue and pastel pink seemingly at random, and this is not helped by the overly bright fluorescent lights down each aisle."
    "A sixty-something with an enormous purse nearly plows into me with her shopping cart."
    "As I look in her direction to perhaps issue her a death glare, I notice the check stands are fully staffed, despite nobody actually checking out."
    "What a wild bunch of checkout clerks."
    "The one nearest me is six-foot-six and has the build of a college basketball player, but the badly-hidden beer gut indicates why he isn't doing that instead."
    "Register 2's clerk is a woman nearly twice my age, who still feels it necessary to wink at me, which guarantees I will not be checking out at her register tonight."
    "Register 3, however...huh, I forgot she worked here."
    "I'm here for a reason, though, not to catch up on old times. But then, what could it hurt..."
    "I snag a single can of ginger ale from a clearance rack and make for Register 3, dodging the same cart lady from before, and this time succeeding in death-glaring her into oblivion."
    "She makes tracks for the baking aisle as I set my soda on the belt."
    sis "Hi, did you find what you were looking for today?"
    b "Not quite, actually, I wonder if I might find a clue?"
    sis "Oh, those are on Aisle--...waaait, you're leading me on."
    b "I'm disappointed in you, sis."
    sis "It's been more than a year since I saw you, and within two minutes of walking back into my life, you're already disappointed in me? {w}What about? The fact I'm working part-time at 18? That I have a job and you don't?"
    b "The fact you even tried to give me a serious answer. Quit taking things so literally."
    "She gives an exasperated sigh, the sort of which seems to be inherent to all members of the female race."
    "This is my younger sister, Tera. She was only three when Dad bit the big one."
    "When Mom remarried, she made a bit of noise about having all of our last names legally changed to Marshall. {w}I put a stop to that, right-quick."
    "New Dad Steve didn't seem to care. In fact, the only person that really seemed to give a crap what our last names were was Mom."
    "In the end, she hyphenated her own surname, but everybody else stuck with Crowley."
    sis "You're obviously not here to pick on me, though."
    b "You'd be right about that. I'm here to follow up a lead."
    sis "We're not hiring."
    b "Not that kind of lead."
    sis "What, did you become some kind of cop over the last year? Given the state of your apartment the last time I visited you, I really doubt you'd have passed the academy course."
    b "You grossly underestimate me, Tera."
    sis "You mean you actually passed?"
    b "I mean there are other ways to conduct criminal investigations that don't involve being a member of the police force."
    sis "Meaning?"
    "Out comes the ID card."
    sis "Ah ha, I get ya."
    b "Now, about that lead."
    sis "That'll be 75 cents."
    b "75 cents? If you're gonna be an information broker, you really gotta charge more than that. People won't take you seriously."
    sis "No, I mean 75 cents for the soda."
    b "Oh. Heh."
    "I pull the change out of my pocket. It's in a random assortment of pennies, nickels, and a single dime, which I watch carefully as Tera sorts through it all."
    sis "And...four cents is your change."
    b "Eh, keep 'em."
    "She inconspicuously slips the change into her uniform apron, switches the checkstand light off, and reaches - straining audibly - to shut the little door to her lane."
    sis "It'll be easier to talk if I don't get customers. Now, what did you want?"
    b "You work here, right?"
    sis "Um...duh?"
    b "Know anything about Martha Davenport?"
    sis "Martha...Martha..."
    "She makes a show of placing a thoughtful hand on her chin and gazing skyward. Well, ceiling-ward. She probably already knows the answer, but she's being polite by not blurting it out instantly."
    sis "Yeah, Martha works here. Hasn't been in lately, though. She's missed a few of her late-night shifts. We're getting a bit worried."
    b "Did she have many friends on staff?"
    sis "Wait, why are you asking in the past tense?"
    b "I'll get to that."
    sis "You don't trust me?"
    b "How about this, then. Did you see Martha under any amount of stress?"
    sis "I don't work in the same department as her. She works in produce, and I'm up here. Why?"
    "Guess it's time to show my hand."
    b "Martha Davenport was arrested a week ago, on suspicion of murder."
    sis "She WHAT?"
    "Everybody up front shifts their gaze towards the both of us. Tera doesn't notice."
    sis "But she seemed so nice!"
    b "Exactly, I don't believe it either."
    sis "Which angle are you hitting this thing from?"
    b "I'm not so sure she did it, if you ask me."
    sis "Hmm. Who did she supposedly kill?"
    b "Her husband."
    sis "Well. Can't say as I knew the guy, myself."
    b "What about Martha? What was she like when she was on shift?"
    sis "Pleasant. Friendly. Like...you know those old 50's sitcoms, with the naive little kid, the salty old dad, and the sweet mom that does all the cooking?"
    b "Yeah."
    sis "That's pretty much the way Martha seemed, to me."
    b "No bruises, or signs of domestic violence?"
    sis "With these uniforms? You'd have to have X-ray vision to notice anything like that."
    "She stretches out her arms, showing the yellow uniform shirt's unusually long sleeves, which she has rolled back many times to allow access to her hands. The roll looks about ten times as thick as the actual shirt sleeve."
    sis "I hope you don't plan on using my testimony in court, though."
    b "Why not? Do you not consent to it, or something?"
    sis "I'm your sister, remember? You'd look biased."
    b "Hmm. Fair point. Uh...well, back to my earlier question then. Do you remember if Martha had any friends on staff?"
    sis "She was nice to everybody, so I can't imagine anybody on staff wouldn't have been her friend."
    b "How about more than friends?"
    sis "I think I know where you're going with this, and you know what? I like it. You think there's something steamy going on, right?"
    "I'd tell her to get her mind out of the gutter, but she's pretty much on the dot. I think back to that tape recording, and that's pretty much the most logical thing to happen."
    sis "Well, as far as that goes, I can't really say. Not really the kind of information I'd be privy to, you know."
    b "Right."
    sis "But what I can tell you is that, when she'd take her breaks, they'd almost always coincide with this other guy that works in the deli."
    b "What other guy?"
    sis "Lemme think. ...I can see his face but I can't quite put a name to it."
    b "Describe him, maybe?"
    sis "Let's see. Heavy-set, Mexican, probably early thirties. Good lookin'...almost too good lookin'."
    b "You just said he's twice your age. Don't tell me you've got the hots for him."
    sis "You know, Bastion, ordinarily I'd probably slap you for trying to control my love life."
    b "Sounds like there's a \"but\" coming up soon."
    sis "{i}But{/i}, I don't stand a chance with him anyway, {i}because{/i}..."
    "She leans in close."
    sis "He's {i}gay{/i}."
    "I can feel the color draining from my face. How...does one even learn stuff like that?"
    b "You've got to be fucking kidding."
    sis "Hey, wash your mouth out."
    b "I could slap you right back."
    sis "I'd like to see you try."
    b "But not in public."
    sis "No, but really. I can tell you for sure that Martha couldn't possibly be in a relationship with this guy, because he's just flat-out not interested in her."
    b "Because he's not interested in women, right?"
    sis "Right."
    "I flip through the case notes for something relevant, then I find the transcript I made of Elmo's tape."
    "The one where James asks Martha if she's seeing \"that fucking greaser\"."
    b "I think I've just made a connection."
    "Tera checks her watch."
    sis "Just about time for me to clock out, bro. Walk me home?"
    b "Sure. I'll explain the case on the way."
    sis "I look forward to it."
    "I'm kept waiting out front of the store, sitting on the one bench just outside the automatic doors. The ashtray next to me is putting out a pungeant odor that makes my ginger ale taste like old cigars...not that I'd know what old cigars taste like."
    "About ten minutes pass before I see Tera again. She's let her hair down (evidently the bun look is work-mandated) and she's wearing a long denim skirt and a comfortable-looking brown cardigan."
    "She kind of reminds me of Mister Rogers, if he were an 18-year-old high school girl."
    sis "Ready when you are."
    "She doesn't seem to live that far from Ralph's. The walk ends up lasting all of 20 minutes."
    b "Hey, uh...want the rest of this ginger ale?"
    sis "Something wrong with it?"
    b "It tastes like ashtray."
    sis "...Just toss it."
    b "And waste good ginger ale?"
    sis "You just said it tasted like ashtray."
    b "Yeah, but I'm not throwing out a half-full can of soda."
    sis "You pill."
    b "Hey, I'm not the one that got lost at See's Candies."
    sis "...."
    "Her face turns bright red."
    b "Relax, I'm kidding."
    sis "Shut up. Those days are behind me."
    b "You mean you don't like sweets anymore?"
    sis "I mean I can take care of myself."
    b "Says the little sister that wanted me to walk her home."
    sis "You have any idea what time it is? There's some real jerks out this late."
    "It's...not even ten o'clock in the evening. About this time last year, I'd probably be waking up about now."
    "...I get this weird hunch that the \"real jerks\" she's talking about may potentially include myself."
    b "Do you not usually work this late?"
    sis "No. Truth is, I was covering one of Martha's shifts tonight."
    "Oh yeah, I was supposed to ask her some things about Martha."
    b "So wait, about her..."
    sis "Yeah, you said you wanted to know some things about her, right?"
    b "Yeah."
    sis "I had a few late-night shifts with her over summer break, now that I think of it."
    b "Anything of interest?"
    sis "Well, nothing that far back, but like a month or so ago, I did see her in the break room once."
    b "You talk to her at all?"
    sis "She talked to me, I think. Seemed nice."
    b "Do you remember what you talked about?"
    sis "How deep are you gonna prod me here?"
    b "Just...give me as much as you think you can remember."
    sis "Okay, uh...something about a watch she'd found in the break room."
    "A watch? Hold on while I check my notes..."
    "There we go. James' unfinished journal entry. \"Found out who owns the watch. That fucker will pay.\""
    b "Do you remember anything else about the watch?"
    sis "What, is that why Martha's husband is dead?"
    b "Not specifically, but it might help me out."
    sis "You know what, I think you should tell me everything you know."
    b "The short version?"
    sis "Spare no detail."
    b "You sure? Could take a while."
    sis "I got all...{i}(*yawn*){/i}...all night."
    b "Doesn't sound like you do. Come on, let's get you home so you can sleep some."
    sis "Hey, I'm fine!"
    b "You'd fall asleep in the middle of my explanation anyway. Get some rest, you've been up all night."
    sis "Again with the protective older brother act. I can take care of myself, you know."
    "...Those words have a familiar sting to them, as if spoken by a certain former female colleague of mine."
    "Argh. I suppose maybe I am being a little overprotective. Then again, maybe I'm only relenting because she just touched a painful nerve."
    b "...Fine. Have a seat, this'll take a while."
    sis "What seat?"
    b "Um...anywhere?"
    sis "No, that's alright, I'll stand. Get on with it already."
    
    # later, we try to recruit ruby again
    # later...
    
    "Of all the stuff I thought I'd be doing as a private detective, I never thought I'd have to look up a home address for my own friend."
    "But it turned out, despite memories to the contrary, I had never actually been to Ruby's house before.{w} She'd described it a few times, off-handedly, but I never did get much of a handle on where precisely she lived; though it was obviously far enough that her mother had to come pick her up from school - nice lady, though, by all indications."
    "A little bit of digging in the phone book did reveal a phone number for \"Travaglia,\" but it did not belong to Ruby or her family; it instead belonged to a family of English immigrants, and the phone was answered by a young man named Simon."
    "Much to my displeasure, my line of questioning eventually came to a dead end, until apparently, word got around to the one person I'd hoped it never would: Rick the cab driver, who spotted me on the street and gave me a free ride to the street just next to Ruby's, under the condition that I never speak of it.{w} In fact, the entire cab ride was carried out in utter silence, except for two words that I'm pretty sure are some sort of ancient Chinese curse: \"Good luck.\""
    "Still, though, filled with a sudden new-found confidence, I knock calmly on the front door to Ruby's modest little house."
    "The door is answered by a lady in her early fifties, probably half my height, wearing a positively hideous brown-and-green dress with a blue apron that does not really go with anything. I can see where Ruby got her hair from, at the very least."
    "She looks up at me, her face bearing those marks of skepticism, and greets me in a low voice that could be mistaken for a growl."
    mrst "Who are you?"
    b "Uh...is...Ruby around?"
    "Her gaze bores through my head like a mining drill."
    mrst "Who is Ruby?"
    b "Um, Antonia, I mean."
    "She doesn't hesitate one moment before turning her head towards the inside of the house and raising her voice in Italian. I'm confused for a moment, and evidently so is the target of her shouting, as I hear a faint \"What?\" from probably a few rooms away."
    "The tough old lady repeats herself in semi-broken English with a heavy amount of tongue-rolling, and the response this time is not further shouting, but a clatter from a distance, followed by footsteps that sound like a light jog."
    "The old woman is pulled aside, the door swings open, and before I realize what's going on, a solid, stone-like female fist meets my head, and I collapse into that ol' bottomless pit that Phillip Marlowe kept going on about."
    "When I come to, I'm lying down on what is probably the loudest-looking sofa I've ever seen. I shake my head out a bit to make sure I'm not still seeing stars from the impact, but the bright pattern remains: a red-on-white polka dot pattern with splotches of blue around every fourth dot.{w} I really have to wonder when a couch like this was ever in style."
    "As I bend up to get a better look, something falls off my forehead with a dull splat. I crane my neck to see, and it is a rubber hot-water bottle. I instinctively put a hand to my forehead and feel a bit of a bruise. That's when I hear a voice."
    r "Hey. Hope you don't mind too much about the bruise, but it really needed to be done."
    "It's Ruby, but she seems less cheerful than usual, which is really saying something for her."
    b "What the hell for?"
    r "I'm pretty sure I never told you where I live. You had to get it from somewhere."
    b "Is it really supposed to be some big secret?"
    "I start massaging my temples, but only manage to make the headache worse."
    r "Who have you been talking to, and what for?"
    "She mimes pointing the interrogation lamp at me."
    b "Are you kidding me? I thought that whole 'we are no longer friends' thing would pass..."
    r "Clearly, you have no faith in my capacity to keep a promise."
    b "Well, look, what can I do to make it up to you? The whole 'white knight' thing."
    "Her turn to be confused."
    r "...The hell are you talking about?"
    b "I...uh...talked to some people for advice...they all told me pretty much the same thing, that you don't like it when people try to help you."
    r "{i}You're wrong!{/i}"
    "She suddenly pounds her own knee, then spends a few seconds shaking the pain from her hand."
    b "Then what was that thing at the paper a couple days ago?"
    "Clearly, bringing that back up was a bad idea, as Ruby now seems to be seething with badly-concealed rage."
    b "It's time I came clean with you, figure out what the problem is, get us reconciled."
    r "There's nothing to come clean about, Bastion."
    b "Well, what the hell's the matter then? Why haven't you called? Why'd you kick me out of your life back at the office?"
    r "Who the fuck's asking the questions around here? Who'd you get my address from?"
    b "Why don't you want my help busting Albert?"
    r "I told you to observe and record, not piss him off!"
    b "You should be thankful I was even there for you!"
    r "Like you're some kind of fucking saint? Answer my question, you fucking jackoff!"
    b "Shut up for a second!"
    r "You don't have the right!"
    "She's echoing Albert already. What was that thing I learned from that book years ago? You tend to become the thing you hate the most?"
    "\"I think I do!\" is what I would like to say right now, except we're both interrupted from our shouting match by the appearance of the woman I believe is Ruby's mother, who is shouting even louder in Italian.{w} Even Ruby shuts up in her presence, though her first response is not as snappy as expected."
    r "...Uh...what, Ma?"
    mrst "Kiss and make up, you nitwits!"
    "She struggles a bit on \"nitwits\" - kind of surprising a word like that would prove so difficult for her - but her intention is at least clear enough from the way she grabs both of us by our shirt collars and bumps us together close enough that I can feel Ruby's chest, even though my coat."
    "Ruby clearly realizes what I'm thinking, by the way she pulls her head back like a baby trying to escape the \"airplane\" full of mashed-up Brussels sprouts."
    mrst "Antonia, kiss the boy."
    r "He's not my God-damned lover."
    mrst "Now apologize to God for being rude."
    r "...."
    mrst "{i}Antonia!{/i}"
    "She raises the pitch of her voice towards the end. That must be something all parents learn to do, regardless of where they're from."
    r "Sorry, God."
    "Ruby barely mutters it, but clearly that's enough for Mrs. Travaglia."
    mrst "Now to the boy."
    r "I'm not going to kiss him, Ma."
    mrst "Well, not on the lips, he's not your lover. The cheeks, Antonia, the cheeks!"
    "That cute way she emphasizes \"cheeks\" almost makes me laugh, if not for the fact that she's still restraining us with her wide-spanned arms. Ruby almost looks like she's going to be sick, but she leans in and pecks me on both cheeks."
    mrst "Now, YOU."
    "She turns her glare on me."
    mrst "What is your name?"
    b "Uh...it's Bastion, ma'am."
    mrst "Bass-chin? Like...chin of bass?"
    "...I swear, I get weirder nicknames every time I introduce myself to someone."
    b "Close enough."
    mrst "Kiss Antonia."
    "The demand is quick, simple, and hard to refuse, but Ruby almost turns green."
    r "Uh, can I pass on that?"
    b "Hey, at least I remembered to shave."
    r "Shave what, exactly?" 
    "But I give her a great big smooch on the lips just before she's able to finish the short sentence.{w} The look in her eyes is one of panic, but she's not trying to pull away anymore, probably because she lost the willpower a minute ago.{w} When I'm finished with her, she turns her head aside and starts fake-coughing."
    mrst "Good."
    "Mrs. Travaglia, finally satisfied, ignores Ruby's silly theatrics and waddles off to the kitchen. This leaves me to ask the first question, between coughs and gags."
    b "So I've got a case and I need help."
    r "Oooooh no, you're not dragging me in to your crap again."
    "She gives a dismissive wave."
    b "Look, do you want your mom to make us kiss again?"
    r "Ewww."
    b "My point. I've got all the particulars squared away already. I just need legal help."
    "Ruby stops dead, then gives me the most genuinely frightened look I've ever seen on her face."
    r "Who the hell have you been talking to?"
    b "Well like I said earlier, Ruby, I gotta come clean with you at some point."
    r "Well, out with it."
    b "An...uh, shall we say, acquaintance of yours. One you introduced me to a month or so ago, at that."
    r "...I never should'a called you that cab."
    "She gets it, alright."
    b "He told me never to mention to you that I've been talking to him, but I've betrayed you enough already with the whole Albert thing, so yes, I've been talking to Rick about you."
    r "What's he been telling you? Every juicy detail, I assume?"
    b "Mostly vague hints and the rare bit of innuendo."
    "This wasn't a lie. I only ever knew what Rick was talking about because I looked into it later to corroborate his little hints, not because he ever outright told me."
    r "I'm assuming he told you about how we knew each other."
    b "In the Biblical sense."
    "She blushes and wraps her arms around her chest uncomfortably."
    r "Ugh, dude, not what I meant."
    b "Clearly something {i}very{/i} juicy must have happened between you for you to react like that."
    r "It--{w}gr--{w}b--{w}shut up, I didn't mean that!"
    b "Well, Rick might not have told me much beyond a couple of...pretty awful double-entendres, but as much as he tried to hide things from me, and as much as you tried to do the same, I did manage to piece together some bits into something that made more sense."
    r "Okay, let's see how much you know."
    b "Well, obviously, this whole chain started when you hired me the cab, during my last case. I'm not sure why you requested Rick as the driver, maybe out of habit, but when you told me not to mention you, that's about when I figured something was up."
    r "Duh."
    b "The next bit I caught on to was...well, after Rick mentioned the 'frequent rider discount...'"
    "I pause as Ruby slaps a palm to her face and shakes her head disapprovingly."
    b "I asked him where you'd met. College, he said."
    r "Not denying that one."
    b "Most recently, after we had our little fight in the newspaper office, I asked him for help, since I figured he'd know you better than I do."
    r "He's kinda lying through his teeth there, I bet he doesn't even remember what my major was."
    b "Criminal justice, minoring in journalism."
    r "Ah ha. Hence why you came to me asking for legal help."
    b "Were you any good at it?"
    r "Well, I graduated, didn't I?"
    b "So why are you working in your minor instead of getting your attorney's license and lawyering for a living?"
    "She takes a while to answer, and finally does so with her head bowed so I can't see her face below the newsboy cap."
    r "I failed my first bar exam."
    b "Why couldn't you just go retake it?"
    r "That costs money I didn't have at the time, and they make you wait a year before you can."
    "She looks back up at me, her face significantly less angry now that she's got that off her chest."
    r "Hey, uh...listen, you've got me at a disadvantage here. You got all this dirt on me, and I haven't got any of you."
    b "Maybe I don't have any dirt."
    r "Pff. Yeah, and I've got a solid gold ring in my--"
    b "Stop right there, I don't need to hear about your hidden parts."
    r "It was sarcasm, Bass."
    b "Even still..."
    r "Well, shit, where am I going to get your dirty little secrets? Maybe you had a girlfriend while I was off gallivanting around college?"
    b "You know me well enough to know that no such thing happened."
    "Not with my unflattering figure, anyway."
    r "Maybe you got yourself stuck in a scam or two."
    b "Well, I did pay entirely too much money for my computer, but that's not really a scam, is it?"
    r "Well damn it, tell me your dirty little secret so we can be even."
    "I don't really get a chance, as Mrs. Travaglia's got dinner ready by now. Ruby calls back to the kitchen that she'll just be a second."
    "She conflictedly scratches her head and averts her gaze for a few moments before shyly looking me in the eye."
    r "Ma didn't expect you'd be here, so I doubt she made enough for you."
    b "I can go get my own, don't worry."
    "I say this, but Ruby is already cackling madly."
    r "Hah, I'm pullin' your leg, Bass. Ma always cooks way too damn much. We're swimming in leftovers by the end of the week. Come eat something, so our fridge will have less to fret about."
    "Well, I'll say one thing, Ruby did get quite a lot calmer once I revealed her deepest secrets to her. I'm really not sure how that works, but I guess I'll roll with it."
    "But I can't leave here tonight until I'm sure I've got Ruby's help. Whether she's licensed to practice law or not, we can still work as a team to get Martha Davenport proven innocent, for the good of her and her children."
    
    # Later: Bass and Ruby discuss the particulars of the case over breakfast, over a diner table, much to the chagrin of the diner's owner (which won't be Irma - different diner, Ruby refuses to see Irma).
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