Spoilers: Read 'Shades of Evil' for more about Nick's friendship with Figaro. FK-wise,
this story takes place in third season, soon after 'Trophy Girl.'
I started this back in June, but you can see from the title that it's a timely contribution to
Kyer's Fairy Tale Challenge.
Disclaimer: I include one, not because I have to, but because I want to do it. Embrace
whatever freedom of expression that you can. 'Forever Knight' is owned/copyrighted by
Sony/TriStar. The characters were created by James Parriott et al. I don't write this for
profit, but for my own amusement on cloudy days.
Fairest Of Them All (01/?)
Copyright 2000
By Bonnie Rutledge
"This is so unfair!" Tracy made a disgusted face as she threw herself into her chair.
She tilted back and bluntly propped her shoes on her desk, just because it wasn't
altogether appropriate.
"I'd think most women would be flattered," Nick said unwisely. "Hey - you just might
win."
Tracy's feet hit the floor with an angry thump. "Really." Her glare threatened his
imminent implosion. "So, Nicholas B. Knight...tell me what I win. A rhinestone tiara?
Kind of impractical in my profession, don't you think? A nifty satin sash that says 'Miss
Metro Toronto?' It'll get in the way when I need to draw my gun. Respect and admiration
from my co-workers? Definitely not. Especially after prancing in front of thousands of
people in a swimsuit answering stupid questions about world peace and the moose
population. No," Tracy stated as she rose abruptly to her feet. "I'm not flattered. I'm a
little nauseous."
"If you find out these killings are connected to the pageant, a little nausea and goose
bumps will be worth it," Nick said, not seeing the big problem.
"So I should grin and bear it?" Tracy scowled. "Gee, thanks. My point is...*you* don't
ever have to put up with requests like this because you're a man. No one dangles
competing for a tin crown in front of you and expects you to be happy about it." She
sniffed dismissively at the notion. "I want to be taken seriously as a cop, and what do I
pull as an undercover assignment? An episode of 'Charlie's Angels!' First it starts with a
'Jerry Show' makeover, then I'm posing as an escort. This beauty pageant is the last
straw. Am I making any progress at all with my career here, or am I permanently
stereotyped because I have blonde hair?"
"So you're cursed with good looks," Nick said unsympathetically. "There are plenty
of people who would kill to have that problem. Maybe that's why the Miss Metro
Toronto pageant has three less contestants than it did last week. A good cop would be
concentrating on that fact rather than complaining about her appearance. She'd focus on
her job rather than herself."
A strangled sound escaped Tracy. Her face twisted petulantly, and her reply dripped
with sarcasm. "You're absolutely right. I should focus on my job." She picked up the pile
of rules and guidelines provided to pageant contestants that Captain Reese had given her
and sifted pointedly through the contents, yanking out pertinent pages as she found them.
The remaining lists and schedules, she dumped on Nick's desk.
"What's this?" he asked with a frown.
"My schedule for the next week. Right there, you have an itinerary of where all the
contestants will be and when they'll be there, plus what they should be wearing, doing
and how often they should breathe. Tomorrow's the last day of the preliminary interviews
with the judges, and then the rehearsals for the big show begin, so why don't I stay here
and do *my* job - like focusing on background checks to see if any of these people has a
criminal record? *You* can run along and plan what the hell my talent is going to be!"
Nick picked up the papers with a sigh. "Okay, I get it. It's not fair, and your job
shouldn't entail pep numbers and songs titled 'A Mountie's Life For Me!' But, Trace,
you and I both know you'll do everything you can to catch this killer. We don't have any
other way to track the culprit from the inside. You're not about to let anyone get away
with murder just because of personal philosophy. You'll come through, even if it means
humiliating yourself on national TV."
Tracy nodded begrudgingly. "Yeah. I just don't want anyone taking it for granted for
one second that I'm happy about this." Suddenly, she looked queasy. "Oh my god." She
repossessed one of the pageant pages from Nick's desk, her shoulders sinking as she
studied it closely. "It *is* national television! People will *see* me! Being 'pageanty'!"
Tracy slapped the page back down on the desk. "That's it. I'm finding this perp before
the big night, even if it kills me." She picked up her purse, and crammed a copy of her
schedule into a folder to take along. "Wish me luck. I have twenty-four hours to become
the contestant to beat."
"What will you do first?" Nick called after her as she scooted for the exit.
"Get bigger hair!" Tracy yelled back, waving the folder. "You do the background
checks and *call me*!"
Nick settled back in his chair, glancing casually over the list of contestant names and
when each was scheduled to meet the various pageant judges for interviews.
The past three nights had carried a steady promenade of murder. First, Shelley Lynn
Poteat had been found in her home, poisoned. The next evening, Melissa Van Doven fell
to her death from the balcony of her seventh floor condominium. By the time they'd
found the connection in the two victims' backgrounds, the precinct received a call about a
third contestant, Angie Hunter, struck down by a runaway car outside pageant
headquarters. The witnesses had all been pedestrians. They spoke of a nondescript, out of
control, beige sedan, a woman with blonde hair and dark sunglasses behind the wheel. It
wasn't much to go on, and, if two other contestants hadn't encountered an untimely
demise in the same week, they probably wouldn't have considered the hit-and-run to be
premeditated. Three dead beauty queens, though, raised suspicions.
Tracy blamed the undercover assignment on her looks, but, glancing over the pageant
rules, Nick realized that there weren't that many women on the force who remotely met
the requirements unrelated to appearance. Had Tracy been a month older, they would
have needed to fudge her age to get her into the contest. Also, most of the women officers
he knew were married. That made another condition Tracy wouldn't have to fabricate;
she was single. Frankly, Nick couldn't think of another female detective who was twenty-
five or less and unmarried, so she was the logical first choice.
Logic, however, was abandoned in favor of surprise when Nick recognized a name
among the pageant contestants.
"Cecilia Franka..." Nick growled. Cecilia was blond, and she probably owned enough
pairs of dark sunglasses to stock her own Ray-Bans store. She'd also proved herself
prone to a quick kill when she thought it was to her advantage. Nick flipped through the
schedule, grunting knowingly when he found that Cecilia had been slated for her
preliminaries at times that would have brought her in contact with all three victims. Just
tonight, she'd had interviews with two of the judges...
The judging panel of seven had been solicited from local celebrities and professionals.
Nick tensed as he read that one of them was a late night radio personality. Another was a
rather notorious fashion designer. Both of them had no business being involved with a
beauty pageant.
LaCroix.
Figaro.
Both spelled trouble. Both spelled death. Both wouldn't spare a second thought on
draining a beautiful woman. LaCroix no doubt consented to the judgeship because of the
convenience. Figaro had the added unethical impetus in that he was responsible for
bringing Cecilia across.
Nick tossed a mental coin to decide which vampire to visit first.
******************************************************************
End of Part One
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