Emilie hated being interrupted during an interview. She hated it especially when the interviewee, in this case, one semi-stoned Stacy Carter, was being completely uncooperative.

She stood up from the table and stormed across the room, throwing open the door. She glared up at Kendall. "I'm in the middle of something, Detctive."

"This is important." Kendall had a gleam in his eyes that spoke of possible big news.

Emilie glanced back at Stacy. "Don't move." She shut the door behind her and looked up at Kendall. "What is it?"

"Dennis Tyler just called Stacy Carter 'Stace'." Kendall grinned. "Are you that close with your friendly, neighborhod stripper?"

"I'm not."

"Dennis Tyler apparently is."

Emilie nodded. "Thanks." She went back into the room and stared down Stacy Carter from the other side of the room. "What do you know about Dennis Tyler?"

Stacy Carter's eyes got wide. "Dennis Tyler?"

"Yeah. Dennis Tyler."

Stacy shrugged. "He comes to the club a lot. He likes to sit very close to the stages and cop a feel when he can."

"You don't know him personally?"

"Dennis? No. He's a customer."

Emilie crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"What name do you dance under?"

Stacy Carter looked very puzzled. "Feather."

"Do you give out your name to the customers?"

"No. Why would I?"

"You've never given out your name?"

Stacy Carter was going from puzzled to very confused. "Never. Not once. Ever."

"Then why does Dennis Tyler refer to you as 'Stace'?"

Stacy Carter blanched to a very interesting shade of pale and all her twitchy, nervous movements stopped. "He-he doesn't."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm sure."

Emilie pushed off the wall and walked across the room to put her hands on the back of her chair. "I'm going to level with you, Stacy. Dennis Tyler is in the next room over being asked questions about Esmerelda Lowenstein's murder, and your name has come up."

"I didn't do anything!" It was a shrill, near-scream that made Stacy Carter sound remarkably like a banshee.

"Are you saying you know something about Esmerelda Lowenstein's murder?"

Stacy Carter dropped to a dead silence and wouldn't look up from the tabletop.

Emilie pulled her chair out and sat down. "If you don't tell us what happened, we're going to have to take Dennis Tyler's version of events as the truth, and I don't think you want us to do that."

"He's a lying bastard." Stacy's face was still pale, but she was starting to flush up by her ears. "Anything he says is bullshit."

"What do you say?" Emilie sighed inwardly as Stacy Carter clammed up again. "You're only hurting yourself by not talking."

"I want a lawyer."

~Damnit.~

*

"How well do you know Dennis Tyler?"

Mr. Zucker looked geniunely surprised that that name was coming up. "Dennis Tyler?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Dennis Tyler...Dennis Tyler..." Zucker seemed to be deep in thought about it.

Patrick thought he was going to be deep in shit if he avoided the question. "Dennis Tyler. He's a regular customer at your club. He was broght in last night for atacking one of your dancers in the parking lot."

"Oh, him."

"Yes, him." ~You jackass.~ Patrick looked at Mr. Zucker hopefully. "Well, what do you know about him?"

"Not a whole lot. He comes in most nights, drinks, tips well, and leaves. I never pictured him the type to attack one of my dancers."

"Have you two ever talked?"

"I'm not sure. I talk to a lot of people every night."

"Mr. Zucker, if you keep lying to me, I can't help you."

Zucker's eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me?" His tone was icy.

Patrick leaned back in his chair. "I'm going to be blunt about this, Mr. Zucker. We know you and Dennis Tyler know each other. We know the two of you liked to sit around and watch your dancers get off, and we know that the both of you know what happened to Esmerelda Lowenstein."

"How do you know *anything*?"

"We're detectives. It's our job." Patrick tapped his pen against his notebook. "So, you can either tell me what happened to Esmerelda, or you can be charged as an accesory to murder."

Zucker's eyes narrowed. "Wait a fucking minute. I was supposed to be making a statement about the night she died. Not getting questioned about it. I want my attorney."

Patrick shrugged, flipped his pen onto the table, and stood up. "If you insist. I can't help you after your attorney gets here, though."

"Like you could do anything for me."

Patrick ignored him as he left the room. Emilie and Kendall were already in the hall, and judging by the stormy, pissed look on Emilie's face, he wasn't the only one about to be screwed. "What's going on?"

"Stacy Carter wants a lawyer."

"Fuck."

"Yeah."

"What about Dennis Tyler?"

Kendall shook his head. "He's happily going on about what he saw and did the night Esmerelda died. I'm playing it like he's going to help us break the case."

"You get him to sign off on his Miranda?"

"Yeah. It's right here." Kendall held up the Miranda sheet that all suspects had to sign in order to confess anything to the cops without a lawyer present. "I convinced him it was for our mutual protection. I wouldn't look like a jackass that forced him to talk, and no one could accuse him of being coerced. For as fucked in the head as he is, he has a warped sense of pride. He thinks telling me the truth all on his own is the best way to go."

"If he's stupid enough to fall for it, let him." Patrick rubbed the back of his neck. "Zucker just demanded his lawyer, too. I'm thinking if there are guilty parties here, Dennis Tyler isn't one of them."

Emilie shook her head. "If Stacy Carter's responsible for anything, it's probably an indirect connection. You said Zucker told you that Stacy Carter asked to perform with Esmerelda, right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." Emilie thought for a moment. "I'm going to call her lawyer, then I'm going to ask why she wanted to be there."

"She won't answer you."

Emilie rolled her eyes. "I'm more than aware of that." She went down the hall.

Patrick and Kendall stood lookin at each other in a mildly uncomfortable silence. Patrick nudged the elepahant that was hanging out between them. "I know, and Nickolas knows."

"Know what?" Kendall said it with the perfect mixture of nonchalance and curiousity that Patrick would have completely believed him if he hadn't already known.

"Look, you want to sleep with Emilie, go ahead. I know you don't need my stamp of approval on your ass, but I'm giving it anyway. Okay?"

Kendall nodded. "Got it. Thanks."

Patrick shrugged. "Nothing to it. If Emilie ever founds out I okayed you and her, she'd kill me, so this is going to be one of those 'guys only' things."

"Works for me."

Zucker's voice suddenly boomed from behind the closed door behind Patrick. "Where the *fuck* is my attorney?"

Patrick grimaced. "See you later."

"Good luck." Kendall folded the Miranda paper into thirds and tucked it into his jacket pocket.

*

"They *both* lawyered up?" Nickolas looked like he was about to throw something.

"Yeah." Emilie had the air of a person who was used to such fits.

"Why didn't you get them to sign their Miranda away?"

"You don't honestly think that doing *that* wouldn't have sent up a huge red flag, do you?"

"I don't give a damn if it sent up a dozen of them and some fireworks as a bonus. We needed them to *talk*." Nickolas rubbed a hand over his face. "What about Dennis Tyler?"

"He signed off. Kendall convinced him it was for his own good."

"Why can't *you* be a snake oil salesman?"

"Because I don't want to." Emilie unfolded her arms and stretched them out to her sides. "It's not the end of the word, Nickolas. I can get Stacy Carter to talk."

"And Zucker? I doubt Patrick can get him to open up again."

"He may not need to. If Dennis Tyler saw anything incriminating, and Stacy Carter can collaborate it, then we're still in business."

Nickolas shook his head. "And if they're both lying to save their own asses?"

"Then Zucker will open up his mouth to save his."

"You sound much to confident for someone who's suspect just shut up on her."

Emilie shrugged. "We've both been doing this a long time, Nickolas. You know the odds are in our favor here. Any one of them lies, the others will bend to make sure they don't get screwed by it."

Nicklas huffed out a breath and rapped his knuckles agianst his desk. "This case has to get shut."

"It will."

*

Mr. Zucker's attorney was an up and coming publicity bitch named Lyndon. He presented his card to Patrick with a flourish that would not have been out of place in a circus. "Lyndon Quigton. I'm Mr. Zucker's attorney. I'd like to see my client, please."

Patrick looked from the overly-dramatic business card to the overly-dramatic man and decided that the name was legitimate. He couldn't imagine anyone so showy starting out life as Bob Jones only to change it to Lyndon Quigton to fit the personality. "Quigton?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Q-U-I-G-T-O-N."

"Yes."

"Interesting name."

Lyndon Quigton brushed imaginary lint off of his overly-dramatic, ridiculously overpriced suit. "Thank you." He sounded like he was attempting to speak with a British accent.

Patrick decided not to tell him that he was murdering it with the hard accent that came from growing up in the slightly scarier parts of the city. "Your client is right down the hall." He led the way and opened the door for Lyndon Quigton. He wondered if bowing on his way out would be overkill. He refrained from finding out.

*

Stacy Carter's attorney was a frazzled looking woman from legal aid that got one look at Emilie and got defensive. "Detective Barker, nice to see you."

"Pleasure's mine, as always, Melina." Emilie gave her a grin a twenty-foot shark would have applauded.

Melina and Emilie had a long-standing battle going between them due to Emilie consistently putting Melina's defendents in prison. It didn't happen every time, but it happened enough for a healthy rivarly to flourish.

"Are you going to hang my client all by yourself this time, Detective?"

"Wouldn't dream of it. Hanging isn't a method of punishment in this state. I thought you'd know that, considering you *are* an attorney."

Melina flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Where's my client?"

"Second room down the hall." Emilie jerked her thumb in the direction of the hall. "I think you know the way."

"Thanks." Melina's tone was acidic.

"My pleasure."

Melina flounced down the hall towards Stacy Carter's room. Emilie couldn't keep another grin off her face.

*

In the third interrogation room, Kendall was continuing his good luck with Dennis Tyler.

"So, you sat, you drank, you enjoyed the scenery."

"That's it."

Kendall nodded. "Not a bad night, then."

"No complaints." Dennis Tyler grinned.

"Did you see Stacy Carter dance?"

Dennis Tyler shook his head. "No." His brow wrinkled. "Which is odd, because I usually catch at least one of her sets. She should have been on around nine last night. That's her usual time."

"She didn't perform her nine o'clock set?"

"No. She didn't perform her ten o'clock set, her eleven o'clock set, or her midnight set, either."

Kendall noted the abscenses in his notebook. "Does she always perform on the hour?"

"Every night she's been there. The girls are on a very strict schedule."

~Which I'm sure you could rattle off on cue.~ "Did she perform her eight o'clock set?"

"Yeah, but that's the last time I remember seeing her all night."

"Does that happen often?"

Dennis Tyler looked thoughtful again. "I've noticed her missing a couple of times, I think."

"Any idea where she was?"

A shrug. "I wasn't really thinking about it. There were other women to enjoy."

"Understood." Kendall grinned. "Why worry about one when there are so many others around?"

"Exactly."