~ The Return of the Raven ~
by Dinasbran

Disclaimers: This is an original piece of alternative fiction and the characters are mine, all mine. It depicts intimate relationships between women so if that bothers you then I suggest you go elsewhere. There is also violence, death, angst and cursing, up to and including the 'f' word.

This is a revised, slightly extended version of the second volume in the Adventures of Red and Evadne. As such, it's probably a good idea, though not necessary, to read the first one - 'Thirty Days Hath September'

As before, accolades and adoration go to my beta reader MAC for grammar, editing, suggestions and generally putting up with my stubborn streak.

Note: The sharp eyed amongst you may notice reference to H.P Lovecraft's 'Myskatonic University'. This story however is not related to that mythos.

Feedback, comments and constructive criticism are welcome to jaras@btopenworld.com - please feed the bard J

Red fiddled nervously with the unaccustomed tightness of the standing collar and bowtie as she looked with trepidation upon the throng of immaculately dressed people before her.

"Stop that," a mildly irritated voice commanded as her hand was gently slapped away.

"Can't breathe properly," the tuxedo clad woman grumbled, hand once more rising toward the annoying constriction.

"I said stop it," and the wayward hand was firmly grasped and returned to her side. "You had the option - dress or tuxedo. If you find the collar uncomfortable you should try these shoes." Red felt pressure on her arm as the stylishly clad, dark haired woman beside her momentarily lifted one elegantly, if impractically, shod foot and adjusted the aforementioned footwear.

"Or I coulda jus' not come at all," The comment was muttered under her breath but apparently not quietly enough as a sharp elbow was poked into her ribs.

"Stop complaining."

"Ow!" Red grimaced; glaring at her business partner as she gingerly rubbed the assaulted area.

"Big softie," Evadne smirked, "Since when did rough-tough Red Wolverton complain about a little poke in the ribs?"

"Since one was cracked, sweetheart," the taller woman growled in annoyance.

The amused looked changed in an instance to one of dismay. "I'm so sorry," before carrying on to a puzzled, "When did you?…and how?" Getting no answer, she rolled her eyes, "Let me guess - at Mickey's?"

"Hey, it was a lucky punch," Red prevaricated, "an' the kid was damn good. Got the makin's of a champ I reckon."

"Uh huh?" The socialite did not sound mollified. "I wish you wouldn't go there. You manage to collect enough injuries as it is without deliberately setting out to get more."

An exasperated sigh emerged from the increasingly annoyed younger woman. This was an argument they'd had before and no doubt would have again. She'd try to get across that the boxing, damaging as it could be, meant she had a better chance of not getting hurt in a real fight. Evadne, for her part, would argue that she seemed to get into enough fights to keep her skills sharp without having to go looking for more. The investigator didn't voice the real and, if she but knew it, most persuasive reason for her frequent forays to Mickey's Gym. That the controlled release of aggression acted as a safety valve to the ever present and, over the last two months, increasingly uncontrollable rage - a rage that silently simmered in her battered soul, ready to burst forth at the slightest provocation.

The two women shared an uncomfortable silence as they both mentally arranged their strategy for the coming argument. Before the old claims and counter claims could be re-aired, they were interrupted.

"Evadne dear, I am so glad you could come."

Red eyed the speaker, not sure to be angry or happy at the interruption. The immaculately dressed middle-aged woman's similarity to her socialite business partner, however, left little doubt as to who she must be.

"Mother!" Evadne chirped, allowing her cheeks to be kissed. "You look well," she added, giving her parent a swift inspection. "Very well indeed!" A mischievous twinkle came into her eyes, "Is this the mysterious Mr. Criffy's doing?"

Mrs. Van Deemin playfully slapped her daughter's arm and laughed, "You are awful!" The older woman's attention turned to the figure by her daughter's side. "And who is your young man, dear? You haven't mentioned anything about a beau and such a handsome one too."

Over to you pardner, the 'beau' smirked, let's see you explain your way outta this one. She always felt these occasions were something of a personal victory. Red didn't deliberately disguise herself as a man, not often anyway - her style of dress was just what felt natural to her; but every time she managed to shake someone's preconceptions she added another notch to the 'Red against the world' tally stick, even if it had got her thrown in jail more than once.

Clearing her throat nervously, Evadne glanced at her business partner, noticing the amusement in the blue-green eyes. She's enjoying this, the ruffian! she thought in annoyance, before turning back to her mother's questioning face. All right then, you knew this was likely to happen. The socialite had been surprised at how well the usually, even obstinately, scruffy private investigator had spruced up. The black of the tux made a striking counterpoint to the red-gold of the short-cut hair. With the supportive bindings the young woman habitually wore effectively flattening the already small breasts even further, despite Evadne's suggestion that one of the new brassieres might be more suitable, there was really very little to indicate on first glance, or either second or third, that the tuxedo clad figure was not that of a slim young man. Ah well, in for a penny, in for a pound.

"Mother, this is Red Wolverton, my business partner. You remember, I told you about her," the stress on this last word unmistakeable. "Red, this is my mother, Edith Van Deemin."

Red noticed the quick flash of shocked surprise in Mrs. Van Deemin's eyes before she took the stunned woman's hand and bowed, brushing the glove-clad hand with her lips. As she rose, she gave the perplexed woman a winning smile. "Charmed to meet you, Mrs. Van Deemin," a devilish impulse prompting her to add, "Now I can see where Evadne gets her good looks." Straightening, she caught her socialite partner's astonished glare, answering it with a sly wink.

I can't believe she just flirted with my mother, my mother for heaven's sake! Has she no shame, Evadne thought in annoyed exasperation then turned her attention to her now distinctly confused parent.

To her credit, Mrs. Van Deemin was obviously trying her best to recover from her surprise and embarrassment. "Well… thank you… um…"

Someone's havin' a crisis of etiquette I see, Red smirked internally; this would get Evadne back for browbeating her into attending. Then she released the confused hostess from her predicament. "Please, Mrs. Van Deemin, jus' call me Red."

Perplexed relief flashed across the matriarch's face before she recovered her social footing once more. "Why, thank you, Red," she gave a gracious little smile before turning annoyed eyes on her embarrassed daughter. "A little warning next time perhaps, dear?"

Oops! Evadne gave her mother an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, mother; it didn't even cross my mind to mention..." What? Red's masculine attire? The preference for women that appears to go with it? "… to mention the way Red dresses. I have just become so used to it I rarely notice it now." Which was true enough - she still wasn't sure when the unusual young woman had finally stopped being an oddity to be understood and had instead become Red Wolverton, friend and business partner.

The internal monologue was broken as her mother started leading her into the house proper. "I forgive you, Evadne. Now, stop lurking near the doorway like something the cat dragged in and come and meet Theo, I just know you two are going to get along famously."

Giving her amused - if still reluctant guest - a glance that was part warning, part apology, the socialite was dragged in the direction of an impressive looking older man in animated conversation with a group of people near the room's large, ornate and somehow inappropriate fireplace.

In fact, the whole place looked to be an ill-at-ease mismatch of styles, as if the builder couldn't quite decide what style he really wanted. Looks like he had a thing for astronomy or astrology. The investigator's eyes had picked out frequent repetition of both constellations and star signs: including Scorpio and Taurus as well as a few others she didn't know the names of. The overall effect was to give the entrance hall a muddled, overly busy feel, even to her untrained eye.

The momentary distraction of the house's architectural oddities having passed, and once-more feeling distinctly ill at ease in a setting she neither knew nor understood, she moved to a corner of the room. From there she could study what was going on, hopefully without it being too obvious. What the investigator hadn't realised was that the new and unknown presence had already been noticed by a number of soon-to-be-disappointed single ladies. Gaze flicking across the multitude of faces, she was glad to see that there were none she recognised. Can't see any of Katherine's set bein' at a soiree held by Mrs. Van Deemin - not excitin' enough for 'em. The unfortunate relationship with Katherine Du Bois was still a source of concern - she may have survived its painful end but the spiteful woman's circle of cronies still hadn't given up on their attempts to ruin her. She hadn't mentioned her concerns when the invitation arrived, even though she had seen the enquiring look in warm brown eyes. Still, she knew she'd have to face them sooner or later and, like pulling out a splinter, the quicker it happened, the better.

Initial survey completed, she looked over to where Evadne stood with her mother and, what was the name? Theo? She snorted, Theodore, what a name! Smiling to herself, she noticed how at ease her business partner was. Unlike the awkwardly lurking Red, she looked relaxed in her stylish clothing: the fashionably fringed and beaded dress in a striking dark red that complemented her dark looks, a beaded and feathered band around the dark bobbed hair finishing the ensemble. Don't make the most of her curves though, the investigator thought critically, them straight up and down dresses don't look real good unless you're as lackin' in feminine assets as me. Not for the first time, Red considered what an attractive woman Evadne was - not classically beautiful but with striking features and a fine figure combined with a compassionate nature and intelligent mind. Unfortunately for Red, she was also straight and therefore off-limits according to the investigator's personal code-of-honour.

As if aware of the scrutiny, Evadne glanced in her direction, a questioning look on her face. A smile and a little nod answered the unspoken 'Are you alright?' and the socialite returned her attention to whatever it was her mother was saying.

Tearing herself away from her guilty appreciation of the unobtainable and beginning to find the well fitting tux too tight across the shoulders for her preferred arms-folded slouch, she decided to see whether there was any 'real' drink anywhere. Although prohibition had been in force for some years she had no doubt the restriction would somehow be worked around, despite the undoubted presence of the law, either police or judiciary, amongst the guests.

Red was now officially bored and was getting increasingly annoyed - not a good combination for the continued peaceful progress of Mrs. Van Deemin's soiree. She'd yet to find any alcohol and, in addition, had so far suffered one slap, two shocked hasty retreats and one intrigued apology; now the latest young woman to zero in on the unknown young man only to realise the moment 'he' spoke that it was, in fact, a woman was threatening her with jail.

"I can have you arrested you know, for dressing like that. It's amoral!"

Eyes rolling in exasperation, she glared back at the angry young woman. "Been there, done that, sweetheart. Even this burg's thickheaded cops eventually worked out that it ain't worth all the paper work I was generatin'. I doubt you could find one flat-foot willin' to arrest me for that anymore?" She shook her head in amusement as, with an annoyed flounce, the irate woman returned to her cronies. Perhaps I'll try lowerin' my voice next time, she thought wickedly, see how long it takes them to work it out. Deciding that indeed she would do just that, the now much cheered ruffian sauntered into a small antechamber and smiled in relief at the unmistakable smell. "Finally!" she muttered thankfully - somewhere close-by there was alcohol, whisky to be precise, now she just needed to find it. Following her nose, she crossed the room and passed though another door into an even smaller room. Inside, a young woman clad in an immaculate maid's uniform stood behind a long table laden with assorted glasses and a number of anonymous decanters.

"Apple juice, Miss?" the maid asked, the weighting of the words making it plain that the proffered liquid have never seen an apple in its life.

Red gave the young woman a thankful grin, "Sure," and a glass was filled and passed to its eager recipient. Taking a gulp of the whisky, single malt, nice, the now much happier ruffian-in-a-tux gave the maid a once over before finishing the remainder of the tumbler in one toss. An' she clocked me straight off, Red mused, I wonder?

"Another?" the maid asked, not quite hiding the twitch of a smile at how quickly the first had been downed.

"Why not," another grin and the glass was replaced on the table with a small flourish. Cute as well as smart. Hell, why not - what's the worse that can happen? "What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?" It was corny but it was amazing how many times it had worked.

The maid, intent on refilling the empty glass, still managed a tiny glance up through the light brown bangs.

Blue eyes, she thought in momentary irritation; she'd had enough of blue eyes with Katherine. Still, can't be tarring every blue-eyed gal with her brush. "So?"

"This nice girl has a job to do, Wolf," the maid smiled, giving a small, amused shake of the head. "She also has a girlfriend to go back to tonight, so knock it off."

Firmly rebuffed, the wolf in question chuckled and held up her free hand in surrender. "'kay. Can't blame me for tryin'." Even as she spoke, she was searching her memories. Did she know this woman? She certainly appeared to know Red and her reputation. Eventually she made the obvious guess. "Lily's?"

Still smiling, the maid nodded then her face turned suddenly solemn. "We heard what happened, Janet an' all. Hope the bastard that did it is caught and pays for what he did."

Suddenly stony faced, Red's jaw clenched at the memories of her ex-lover's death, the resultant emotional storm and the eventual carnage in the warehouse during which Janet's killer had met his fate. "He's paid," she confirmed quietly.

"Good!" the maid said vehemently. Then she laid a comforting hand on a tuxedo-clad arm. "She was a lovely woman, Red, we were so sorry to hear about her death."

"Yeah, she was," the still emotionally raw investigator replied gruffly, wishing the maid would stop talking about something she still found difficult. Not only that but the mention of Janet made her feel suddenly guilty about approaching another woman less than two months after her good friend and one time lover's shooting. Shit, we hadn't been a couple, not really, not at the time, why shouldn't I be lookin'? Her internal argument came to abrupt halt as she heard a familiar, well-bred voice drawl.

"So the big bad wolf has found herself a cute little lamb to eat?"

Just managing to slow the startled turn into something that looked less like a naughty schoolboy, Red turned to meet the sapphire blue eyes that had held her heart enthralled and that still, despite all her ex-lover had put her through, caused a jolt of pure lust that bypassed her brain and went straight to regions south.

"Hello, Katherine," she growled, "I could say it was nice to see you but I'd be lyin'."

Much to her surprise, Evadne found herself genuinely taken by her mother's new gentleman-friend. Unlike so many men of their class, he did not patronise either her education or her attempts to help those less fortunate in society; indeed, he'd obviously taken detailed notice of some of her philanthropic projects.

"And your mother tells me you are now a private investigator?" Again, there was no hidden sneer in the voice.

"Indeed, Theo," the 'Mr. Criffy hadn't lasted past the introductions, "I am now a partner in the Wolverton Investigation Agency."

"Not Wolverton and Lannis?"

Evadne smiled back, both noticing and appreciating the order of the names, no assumption there that she should have the senior partnership; her respect for the man went up another notch. "We decided that it was best to leave the name as it was. Having Lannis in the agency's name would have caused more trouble than good I fear." Especially once my in-laws found out.

"That was Miss Wolverton with you when you came in wasn't it? I gather she hails from out west somewhere?"

"Nebraska I believe," she looked inquisitively at Theo - the question had been unexpected and he seemed pleased with the answer. She was just wondering how to broach her puzzlement when he cast around for the subject of their conversation.

"She seems to have got over her initial reticence I see."

"What do you mean?" Frowning, she turned to where the visibly ill-at-ease Red had been standing to see empty space. A look around the room showed no trace of the distinctive red-gold head either. Looking for a drink no doubt, she smiled wryly to herself. Turning to the hosts, she smiled "Mother. Theo. I have monopolised your attention for far too long. You have guests to see. We can talk about business later, when it is quieter." She did not miss the enquiring glance her mother sent to Theo and his affirming nod.

"That sounds eminently sensible, dear. We will find you later, when the atmosphere is more suitable."

The socialite gave the older couple an apologetic smile. "Now I'd better go find out who Red's managed to upset so far. I assume the 'fruit juice' is in the usual place?" At her mother's nod, she set out for the small room where the alcoholic drinks were made available under the laughable fallacy of being fruit juices.

Making her way through the crowded rooms of her mother's impressive, if somewhat over the top house, she unconsciously filtered the conversations going on around her. Too many years spend in such surroundings had taught her to subconsciously listen to the conversations around her even when engaged in conversation of her own. Most of what she was hearing was filtered out as rubbish without becoming actual words, then her mind picked out something she had been half expecting.

"How can Mrs. Van Deemin bear such a creature in her house, let alone invite her?"

Alice Greystone, she identified the voice. Sound's as if she's met Red.

"Dressed in a tuxedo just like a man. And it is not only in her clothes that she pretends to be a man as well, or so I have heard…" The voice lowered, about to share its titillating secrets to her eager confidants.

You always were a spiteful little minx, Alice. Evadne was now just behind the gossiping, insipid skinny blonde. "That is no way to speak about my guest, Alice Greystone," she said pleasantly in Alice's ear.

The blonde-haired woman swung around in shock and an embarrassed blush surged up her face. "Evadne! I'm sorry I didn't mean to…" then surprise flared briefly in her eyes as the words were processed "That… person… is your guest?"

"She is. She is also my business partner. However, that aside, you should know it is not polite to question whom your hostess invites, after all," the socialite's face assumed it's most insincerely charming smile, "she invited you." With a curt nod, she left the staring gaggle and returned to her mission to find the errant senior partner before she caused more ructions. I should never have insisted she come!

Evadne was just approaching her goal when she heard a familiar voice. Despite not catching the words, the angry tone was unmistakable and she hurried though the door. In a flash, she took in the scene. Katherine Du Bois was standing indecently close to an obviously uncomfortable Red - the possessive way she was running her fingers up and down the lapel of the tux giving little doubt as to her intentions. The object of this intent, having retreated as far back as she could, was pressed up against the large drinks table, white knuckled hands clutching the edge, an unexpected look of panic on her face. The maid, Betty, was trying to look as if she wasn't there, but her face showed her annoyance at what was going on in front of her.

"Your voice says one thing, my dear Red, but your body is telling me something completely different." The tall, strikingly beautiful woman's voice was an insistent, sultry purr and Evadne felt a small flare of something she realised, to her great surprise, was jealousy.

Suddenly, blue-green eyes flicked to meet her own, sending out a mute appeal. "My, my, as I live and breath, if it isn't Katherine Du Bois? And there was I under the impression that you had seen the error of your ways." Evadne let all her disgust for the way this woman had… was… treating her new friend hone her voice's biting edge to a sharpness that would have sliced steel.

Red hadn't been so relieved to see her partner since that morning, over a month ago, when she had appeared, automatic in hand, in the warehouse office's door. As the woman who had held and then broken her heart half-turned, she quickly slipped out from between table and enticing body, full tumbler still grasped in a slightly shaking hand, and moved to stand near her rescuer.

The full power of the icy stare was now turned on the intruder. "So it is true?" Katherine turned a sneering smile on her ex-lover. "You certainly didn't waste any time did you?"

Laying a restraining hand on her friend's arm as the fiery woman took a step forward, Evadne instructed in an undertone, "Leave this to me, Red. This is my territory." Thankfully, she saw the still visibly agitated woman retreat a step before taking a steadying swig from the tumbler. "And what exactly do you mean by that scurrilous remark, Miss Du Bois?" Her face was calm, she knew that the last thing she must do is rise to this woman's barbs.

"Don't tell me you don't know about her unnatural proclivities, Evadne?" Katherine smirked.

"No, I am fully aware that Red loves women rather than men."

The young woman snickered nastily. "Love? Hardly that I think."

"So what was it for you then, Katherine?" growled an increasingly angry westerner. "You jus' wanted to compare bein' fucked by a woman to whatever wee Willie can manage?"

"Red!" The socialite snapped, getting an annoyed glance in return before the investigator left the room, anger evident in every movement. Evadne gave the departing back a concerned glance before turning her attention back to her opponent.

Katherine gave an insincere little smile. "She has such a nasty little temper doesn't she?"

"At least she is honest in her emotions," the older woman retorted, "unlike some people."

The two women stared at each other silently, each searching for the slightest chink in their opponent's mental armour, neither seeing an opening. Eventually it was the younger that stepped back from the silent affray.

"Well I'd better go and find my fiancé. So nice to have seen you again, Evadne." The insincerity of her tone grated like sliding blades.

"I would like to say the feeling is mutual, Katherine," the older woman knew it was beneath her but she couldn't help herself, "but I'm afraid it isn't."

Katherine gave her a final stony glare before stalking out of the room.

Evadne watched the outraged back out of sight. Turning with a sigh mixed with both relief and annoyance, she moved towards the drinks table. "A sherry please, Betty. No, make that two, and a whisky for my friend." Then I'd best find Red before she picks a fight with someone.

Returning to the main reception room, having found neither any sign of the angry woman nor, thankfully, any sound of Red centred violence, Evadne eventually spotted her quarry. She was surprised to realise that her friend was in animated, yet from the grin on her face, friendly, conversation with Theo Criffy. As she moved towards the two, Red glanced in her direction and smiled happily before returning to the conversation. Happily? Well I would never have believed it. Soon she was close enough to hear the conversation that had so obviously piqued the westerner's interest.

"I tell you, Theo, there is nothin' quite like ridin' them plains. It jus' gives such a sense of peace seeing that vast emptiness an' knowin' there ain't likely to be another human in miles."

"Indeed, Red, there is something cathartic about emptiness like that. I believe it pulls at something deep in the soul. It is in places like that that a man's mind goes from the practical to the spiritual."

"Yeah, well, I ain't for this organised religion mumbo jumbo but I know what you mean. I always felt such stillness out ridin' the fences. Don't mistake me, I know the dangers of the place, but even that jus' seemed to add to its beauty. It was like some sort of great cat, a lion or a panther, beautiful an' graceful on one hand yet deadly and heartless on the other."

"I don't think I've ever heard you waxing quite so poetic, Red." Evadne smiled to take any bite out of the teasing comment. "I gather you and Theo have found something in common?" Looking at the older man, she gave him a smile of thanks for his skilful damage control.

Red grinned again, "Yeah. Seems he's got some ranches out in Nebraska. I was jus' tellin' him 'bout when I worked as a hand."

When was this, she wondered, surely, she has been in Boston all her adult life?

As if in answer to the unspoken question the westerner continued, "I was only a kid of fifteen at the time, still young enough to pass as a boy." That got a humorous glance from her partner which said 'and you can't now?' to which she just rolled her eyes before continuing her story. "Hired myself on as cook's assistant but found I had a knack with the horses an' the beefs so got took on as a hand." A dark look clouded her face. "Until pa found me an' fucked it all up well an' truly."

Laying a reassuring hand on a clenched forearm, Evadne glanced at Theo's face. She saw mild disapproval at the choice of language and a thoughtful curiosity that was hardly unexpected given the tale he'd just been told, but thankfully nothing more.

If only he were twenty years younger, the socialite was surprised to catch herself musing before mentally berating herself. Stop that now, Evadne, even entertaining such a thought about your mother's beau is outrageous, not to say ridiculous.

"Well if you two delightful ladies," Theo's green-grey eyes twinkled at the westerner's automatic scowl, "will excuse me, I had better circulate." With a slight nod, Theo left the two investigators together.

"He's a nice guy." Red sounded surprised.

"Yes, he is. I think they will be very happy together." Then turning a teasing look on the younger woman, added, "So you have managed to find someone of my 'type' that you have not just failed to annoy but indeed seem to have impressed?"

Red gave a lopsided grin. "Yeah, an' it feels damn weird I can tell you."

Shaking her head, she gave her friend an exasperated smile. "Come on; let's see if we can find somewhere quiet to wait out the rest of the evening. Somewhere Katherine can't try to get her talons into you again." She immediately regretted that last comment as the westerner's jaw set and a hard look came into her eyes. Oops. That was a stupid mistake. Then she was surprised to see the angry face relax as the younger woman let out a sigh.

"Yeah, sounds like a good plan." Giving a sudden mischievous grin, she added, "Jus' make sure there's a good supply of booze 'kay, I think it's the only way I'm gonna survive the evenin' sane."

Despite her earlier misgivings, the westerner did appear to be surviving the evening sane if not entirely sober - though a casual observer would not have noticed the latter. Not that there were any casual observers in the small sitting room Evadne had eventually taken them to. It hadn't been long before the constricting tux jacket, waistcoat and bowtie had been shed and the sleeves habitually rolled up despite the starched cuffs; however, ever suspicious, she hadn't removed the seldom-used shoulder holster with the ever-present Smith and Wesson.

Now relaxed to the point of inebriation, Red was leaning against the fireplace enjoying the warmth on the back of her legs. In her hand was a half-empty tumbler that had been repeatedly filled from yet another anonymous decanter on the side table. How much longer? she thought, stifling a yawn and taking another mouthful of the tawny liquid. Placing the glass on the mantel, she moved just a bit too carefully to the discarded vest. Fishing out the specially polished watch, she checked the time. Jeez, nearly four in the mornin', then glanced to where the socialite was sitting in a comfortable armchair just the other side of the flickering fire, idly leafing through a book while gently humming to herself. "That's gettin' annoyin' you know?" she grumbled.

"What?" Evadne looked up from the book with a mildly puzzled look.

"The humming. It's annoyin'."

Also tired and getting cranky in her own turn, the socialite looked hard at the half-undressed figure. "I'm sorry I'm sure."

"I'm gonna find the john." The room was beginning to feel claustrophobic - she needed to get out, move around for a while.

"Suit yourself."

"Fine!"

"Good!"

As the door was shut just a little too hard to be either accidental or polite, Evadne sat back in the chair. Shutting her eyes, the dark-haired woman wished for the hundredth time that her mother and Theo would make the time to come and talk before Red consumed the entire decanter of finest scotch. Earlier in the evening, she'd tried suggesting that the spirit could at least be diluted with some water, but that had just earned her a withering look and a muttered, "Water whisky? You gotta be loco." Next, she had suggested that Red restrict her drinking as they were, after all, here primarily on business. To which she'd been informed, in no uncertain terms, that a couple of drinks was not going to affect her partner's ability to do her job. In the end she'd given up trying to persuade the stubborn westerner, If she wants a hangover in the morning then that's her own business but she won't be getting any sympathy from me, and had taken it upon herself to make sure at least one of them was sober should the expected discussion ever come to pass.

Eyes comfortably closed, she went over in her mind the words added in her mother's unmistakable polished hand to the invitation she had received: 'Darling, I have heard of something you and your investigator friend may be interested in, please do come.' She'd thought it a strange idea to discuss business of that sort at such a function but her mother had insisted. It had almost seemed that there was some ulterior motive to the suggestion but, other than meeting Theo, there seemed to have been none she could find. She was still puzzling over this as, unable to stave of her tiredness anymore, she gently drifted off into sleep, lulled by the warmth and gentle crackling of the open fire.

Red stomped out of the room only to stop in momentary indecision. Damn! Shoulda asked where it was. Ah well, can't be tha' difficult to find for a 'tective like me. She looked one way down the corridor then the other then began the age-old method of decision-making, "Eeney, meeny, miney, mo!" Her direction thus decided she made her way along the seemingly endless corridors, opening doors into room after impressive room. Her thoughts became increasingly dark as she considered the vast wealth indicated by the house and the finery it displayed. All got by the sweat of some poor workers' brows, or more likely some poor slaves. These folk make me sick! Having finally found and used the room she had been looking for, the western outcast continued her unguided tour of the house, the drink-fuelled feeling of inferiority being turned around into a growing anger towards the people that so easily brought out those feelings. Without conscious thought, her feet moved away from the noise of the class she despised enjoying themselves and towards the quieter depths of the house.

"I'm not lost," the investigator muttered some time later, "jus' temporarily misplaced m'self." It looked like she had inadvertently, but perhaps instinctively, found the domestic area of the house. The walls were plainly whitewashed and the furnishings sturdily functional. After opening a few doors, finding nothing but storerooms, she eventually arrived at the back stairs. Finally giving up on her attempts to navigate the maze of a house, she slumped dejectedly on the bottom step. How was she going to find her way back to Evadne and, more importantly, the scotch?

If I wait long enough, someone should come 'long an' point me in righ' direction, she eventually reasoned - remarkably rationally given the amount of alcohol currently in her bloodstream. Happy with the decision, she slipped inelegantly off the step and lent her back against the wall, legs stretched out in front of her, crossed at the ankles and parallel with the bottom step to await the forthcoming assistance.

Sitting there, on the edge of alcoholic slumber, she slowly realised that nothing could be heard of the party that was still going on somewhere in the house, in fact, this part of the house seemed unusually quiet. Mus' be real thick walls to stop all sound like that. Posh bastards' prob'ly didn' wanta hear the noise the servants made. With a jaw-stretching yawn, the distinctly inebriated woman settled more comfortably against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest. It wasn't long before the red-gold head began to nod and soon the only sound in the unusually quiet stairwell was a gentle, drunken snore.

Seemingly only moments later, she awoke with a start as an icy chill passed through her legs. At the same time, her heartbeat increased as the adrenaline rush of the automatic flight or fight reaction kicked in. The latter always her preferred option, Red scrambled to her feet, hand reaching automatically for the revolver tucked under her right arm, and looked around for the cause of this sudden, primal response. There was no-one in the corridor, nor could she hear anything; then she caught movement out of the corner of her eye and she turned to confront the woman that had so startled her only to face a completely empty staircase. "Wha' the fuck?" She frowned, momentarily puzzled, before hurling herself up the stairs to the bend that logic suggested now hid the woman; but on reaching it she could still neither see nor hear anyone or anything. As the adrenaline dissipated, she felt bile rising suddenly in her throat - a reaction to the combination of unexplained fear and excessive alcohol. Hastily swallowing it down, she sank shakily to perch on the nearest step. Too much scotch, she thought¸ that mus' be it, drunken hallucinations, a derisive little smile lifted the corner of her mouth, hardly the first time now is it, little wolf?

"Excuse me, Ma'am?"

Evadne's eyes flickered then opened. Blinking into wakefulness she was surprised to realise she had actually fallen asleep, the uninteresting book she had been failing to read now lying in a spine breaking splay on the hearth rug.

"Ma'am?"

She turned towards the voice. "Yes, Betty?"

"I think you had better come and get Red… I mean Miss Wolverton."

Blinking once more and now fully awake, she asked, "What has she done?" Oh dear Lord, I should never have let her out of the room.

With a rather knowing smile, or so it seemed to the socialite, as she picked up on the familiar use of her partner's name, Betty replied reassuringly. "She hasn't done anything except fall asleep on the backstairs. I though I had best let you know where she was."

She gave the maid a rueful smile. "Thank you, Betty; I suppose I'd better go fetch her before she gives someone the shock of their life."

"Yes Ma'am." With a bob, the maid left the room as Evadne stiffly rose from the chair. Ouch, she stretched the kink in her neck; I'm getting too old for sleeping in chairs like that.

Well at least she hasn't been sick… yet, she considered the slumped, slightly snoring form of her unconventional friend. "Red. Wake up," no response from the sleeping woman, "Come on, Red," she crouched down and gave the recumbent form a gentle shake, "wake up, please."

"Leave me 'lone," the sleeper grumbled, trying to shrug the hand off her shoulder. Seconds later the blue-green, and now slightly bloodshot, eyes snapped open. "What the…" Red focussed on the woman crouched by her side. "Uh.. 'vadne…" she looked blearily around. "Musta fallen 'sleep."

"I noticed." Evadne couldn't keep the smile from her lips. "Come on, oh great explorer, let's get you back to base camp." Standing up she offered a hand, which was grasped strongly as the westerner hauled herself upright to stand, only slightly unsteadily, at the socialite's side, an inane grin on her face.

"You're a pal, 'vadne."

What did I do to deserve this? The 'pal' asked in silent exasperation before leading the drunken senior partner back towards the room she had just left.

As they moved through the house, the socialite became aware that the noise from the public rooms had subsided. They've gone at last! They had nearly reached their destination when the unexpected sound of breaking glass tinkled behind them.

Stopping abruptly and drawing her revolver, Red swung back towards the sound. With a muttered, "I'll get you this time," she began a remarkably sober looking prowl along the corridor.

"Red?" She whispered at the retreating back - sure that the sound they had just heard was not that of an accidentally dropped glass. "Red, what are you doing?" Her voice was now showing a mix of concern and annoyance. When no response was forthcoming, she abandoned her original plan to fetch help and instead followed the intent looking investigator.

A few yards behind the swiftly moving woman, she followed her around a corner, only to stop and stare in surprise at the empty corridor stretching out in front of her. Frowning, she whispered, "Red?" She only just kept in the instinctive shriek as a hand came out though the dark but, she now realised, open doorway to her left and pulled her inside.

"Shush!"

"Red!" the outraged socialite whispered back, "We really need to talk about all this pushing and pulling!" She could just make out the scowl aimed in her direction and subsided into annoyed silence, in which she could now hear the slight sound of cautious voices and the sound of furniture being moved.

"Sure this is wise, there's likely to still be people around ya know?" The first voice came, indistinct but obviously male.

"Yes. Now stop talking and look." This second voice was lighter, the gender indistinct.

Evadne felt the hand on her arm relax and then smelled whisky as an only slightly alcohol-slurred voice whispered in her ear "Wait here, 'kay. I'm jus' gonna see what they're doin'. If there are only the two I'm gonna take 'em."

"No, you can't. Not in the state you're in."

"Never stopped me before," came the humourless, muttered reply and then Red's silhouette slipped through the doorway.

Stubborn, thick headed…" She wasn't going to wait for the drunken westerner to get herself into trouble by confronting burglars alone. Good thing I've taken on the habit of 'packin' at all times, smiling, she withdrew the small but still deadly pistol from her evening reticule before following her partner in the direction of the voices.

Red was now pressed up against the wall by a partly open door. She turned to look at Evadne as she joined her, giving a frown that slipped into a resigned smile. With a gesture to stay, she moved forward to peer through the crack in the doorway. Glancing back, she mouthed, 'Two', then, with a gesture for her partner to follow, began slowly to push the door far enough open to allow them to pass through. With an exasperated shake of the head, the socialite followed.

Over her taller friend's shoulder, Evadne watched as the door opened to show the interior of the room and the two trespassers inside it. Both were dressed in dark clothes; the larger had clothes that suggested a naval background: a knitted wool cap, heavy sweater and that peculiar kind of short heavy wool jacket beloved of sailors everywhere; the smaller figure was dressed more oddly in some sort of hooded long jacket, the hood pulled well up over the head. Behind the two kneeling figures was the broken pane in the raised window through which the intruders had obviously gained access.

Returning her attention to the still oblivious figures, she was surprised to see that they were about to lift a floorboard. As Red moved around the edge of the room toward the open window, she took up position in the doorway, ready to prevent any escape through that route as well. The westerner was now leaning nonchalantly against the wall by the window, although there was nothing nonchalant about the way the revolver pointed unswervingly at the still unaware intruders.

Unexpectedly the man spoke, oblivious to his audience "Can't we get on with this?"

"No," a woman's voice, the socialite now thought. "I need to be whole before we…"

"Howdy, boys, lost somethin' have we?" the nonchalant drawl interrupted the odd sentence.

The larger intruder swung around with a gasp of surprise and went as if to go for the window, then stopped as he spied the revolver-wielding figure effectively barring his way.

"Sit down." Red gestured with the revolver. "Now hands behind your head like a good boy."

The man complied, face thunderous and swearing under his breath even as he took up the position instructed.

While the westerner had been focusing on the larger man, Evadne had kept her attention on the smaller figure that, other than a flinch of surprise at the unexpected voice, had not yet moved. She was distinctly puzzled by the lack of reaction and the fact that the figure appeared to be talking under its breath.

"You," Red now addressed the smaller figure, "turn round so I can see what you're doin'."

As the figure slowly turned, head down so the face was hidden in the shadow of the hood, the socialite felt a sudden coldness as a wave of fear washed over her. Swallowing hard she took a half step back and automatically raised her pistol to point directly at the smaller figure.

Noticing the start, Red flicked her partner a puzzled glance, noting as she did that the older woman was as pale as a sheet. What's got into her? Looks like she's seen a ghost or somethin'. Then her attention returned to the turning figure. Red stared in astonishment at the face now looking directly into hers before flicking a disbelieving glance between the hooded woman and the still pale socialite. Christ, they're like two peas in a pod. Suddenly a red-hot pain seared across her side, the sound of the shot ringing loud in the confined space. Not a-fuckin'-gain! The complaining thought flashed through her mind as she stumbled slightly, automatically bringing her right hand to her side. At the distraction, the man made a dash for the window, pushing the human obstacle out of the way and, fortunately for him, accidentally catching the already damaged rib. Dropping to one knee, the westerner groaned as pain lanced through her chest, causing spots before her eyes. As she tried to control the pain, she heard a second shot then a shocked gasp.

Evadne had been momentarily frozen as the gun had appeared as if by magic in the smaller figure's hand, firing in almost the same instance. As the larger man had scrambled from the floor and through the window, barrelling Red aside at the same time, she had fired her own gun at the now armed and unknown woman. The socialite was sure her aim had been true yet there was no sign she had hit the figure, who was now halfway through the window. She was about to fire once more when the hood fell away and, with a gasp of surprise, she saw a familiar face staring back at her. Before she could recover, the figure was gone. She was moving to the window when a voice stopped her.

"Don't! You'll make a good target against the light. Jus' let 'em go."

The westerner's voice was tight with pain and Evadne turned in concern, the stranger's remarkable resemblance temporarily forgotten. Her anxiety increased as she spotted the growing red stain on the previously pristine dress shirt.

Seeing the worried look, Red smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, it's jus' a nick," She started to rise from her kneeling position but another wave of pain from the much abused rib forced her down to sit on the wooden floor. Propped up against the wall, she gritted her teeth and waited for it to subside. As the older woman knelt solicitously by her side, she gave her a chagrined grin. "I think that big bastard really broke that damn rib for me this time though."

Carefully pulling up the shirt, the socialite was relieved to see that the wound did indeed appear to be minor. "What am I going to do with you, Wolverton?" she mock scolded to cover her relief, the memory of helplessly watching Red bleeding to death on the warehouse floor still vivid in her mind.

"What on earth has been going on here?" Theo's shocked voice made both women turn to look where he stood, utter confusion on his face and shotgun in hand, surveying the room and its occupants. "Are you alright, Evadne? Red?"

"Jus' peachy," Red muttered, causing an involuntary smile to pass over her partner's face before she replied to the concerned older man.

"We caught some burglars. Unfortunately they escaped and somebody," she gave her friend a look of feigned annoyance, "managed to get herself shot again."

"Hey, I didn' ask 'em to do it."

Smiling at the aggrieved grumble, she continued, "Although it does appear to be a 'nick' as she claims, I really think we should get a medical opinion on that."

"Of course," He nodded then paused, a look of confusion on his face, "But burglars? What on earth where they doing breaking in here - it's just a store room?"

Evadne shook her head slightly, confused herself. "They seemed to be looking for something under the floor."

Theo glanced towards where the intruders had been about to lift the floorboard. "Were they?" he whispered. Seeing the questioning glance he continued, "Why on earth would they be doing that I wonder?"

She was still wondering how the older man knew the exact spot the burglars had been interested in when he turned back to look at them, a concerned look appearing on his face as he now spotted the growing bloodstain.

"Hadn't we best get her to a hospital?"

A strong hand grasped her wrist. "No hospital," came the intent whisper.

Laying a reassuring hand over the one holding her wrist, she replied. "I know - no hospital. But at least let a doctor look at it?"

After a small pause, the injured woman nodded and got slowly to her feet, this time without starting the shooting pain again. Feeling a hand on her arm she growled, "I'm notta fuckin' invalid you know, I can damn well walk by m'self," then moved somewhat stiffly, hand still pressed to her bleeding side, past Theo and into the corridor beyond.

Evadne withdrew her hand as if burned, completely thrown by the unexpectedly aggressive response to her proffered help. As Red left, she turned to Theo.

"Sorry about that," she nodded in the westerner's direction.

"Doesn't take well to unasked for help I see?" He sounded more amused than offended.

The socialite rolled her eyes, still angry at the rudeness. "You don't know the half of it. Sometimes she can be the most ungrateful, mule-headed, thoughtless, brat!"

Theo chuckled wryly, "Well, she certainly is one of a kind." Offering his arm, he smiled, "Shall we follow?"

The doctor, grouchy at been dragged out of bed at such an early hour, had indeed confirmed the assessment that Red's wound was a minor one. The bullet had however left a nasty gouge just below her ribs, which had required a number of stitches - luckily, the whisky she'd already consumed was enough to numb the accompanying pain to a bearable level. He'd also, after some gentle manipulation accompanied by some of his patient's choicest oaths, announced that the rib was not, in fact, broken and may not even be cracked; though, with the amount of bruising he'd had to admit that this surprised him as much as it obviously did his patient. The protests that, "there's no way in hell it could hurt this much an' not be damn-well broke," had been unusually vehement by the stubbornly stoic woman's standards, but the doctor had been firm in his diagnosis.

Now she was slowly buttoning up one of Theo's old shirts over the newly applied bandage. As she reached halfway down, she touched the slight indentation of the scar that sat, like a ghostly twin, a few inches above her belly button. It had become a familiar gesture, a physical reminder that what had happened in the warehouse had not in fact been some bizarre, macabre dream. She smiled as she remembered the surprised look on the doctor's face as he had noticed the scars - the small scar on her abdomen had occasioned only a puzzled glance but when he had seen the larger ragged scar on her back, just under the lowest right rib, his puzzlement had been almost palpable.

She felt the pressure on the bandage being wound around her middle lessen and the tentative, unbelieving fingers touching the apparently old, starburst shaped scar. Then a hand took her by the arm, pulling her around to allow the doctor to first stare in patent disbelief before eventually reaching out to touch the smaller, neater scar on her stomach.

"Knock it off, Doc, I ain't a dummy to be poked an' prodded you know."

The doctor had apologised for the breech of etiquette but curiosity still drove him to ask, "Those scars, they look like…"

"Yeah. A bullet - in the front, out the back," she'd confirmed, enjoying the combination of shock and disbelief on the physician's face.

"To survive a wound like that… it would be miraculous."

"You don't know the half of it, Doc," she'd smirked. When it became obvious his patient wasn't going to clarify the mysterious comment, the doctor had, with barely concealed frustration at the lack of further explanation, finished tending to his highly amused patient.

At least he'd known when to give up, Red thought darkly, don't see that much in most of his damned profession. Wincing slightly, she tucked the shirttails into her pants and drew the red suspenders back into place. Moving to the door through which the others had retired to let her dress in private, she silently considered what she'd seen. For the moment, she ignored the fact that the woman had looked so like Evadne to concentrate on what they had been doing. They were obviously lookin' for somethin', didn't look like they'd found it either. We'll have to go take a look once the cops have finished crawlin' over the place. They had already given their statements to the police, though it had taken repeated reiterations from Theo to convince the skeptical sergeant, an old 'friend' of hers, that Red had actually been an invited guest. She'd not mentioned in her statement the female intruder's uncanny resemblance to her partner and she was sure, from the look in Evadne's eyes as she'd left the room the police had commandeered, that she had held back something too. As she drew the door closed behind her, she noticed all faces in the room looking at her. "What?" she lifted a quizzical eyebrow, "Have I left my fly undone?"

Evadne gave a little snort of laughter "You are such a ruffian, Red."

The ruffian in question grinned back, "An' don't you forget it." Turning her attention to the older couple, she asked "The cops gone?"

Theo nodded, "They said there have been a number of burglaries in the area and that it was most likely the same gang, although they have never used firearms before."

"Shall we go examine the room now?"

"Sure," Red was not surprised that her partner's instincts were the same as hers - she'd soon realised that the socialite had a natural talent for the more cerebral side of the investigation business. "Okay by you, Mrs. Van Deemin? Theo?"

Wonders never cease, Evadne thought with a smile, she actually bothered to ask. So surprised was she at the unexpected display of manners that she didn't notice the questioning glance from her mother and the almost imperceptible shake of Theo's head before he replied, "No objections from us."

As they left the room, she gently caught her friend's arm. "Red, there was something I didn't tell the police..." her eyes looked confused and concerned, "…that woman, she looked just like you."

"I know it was…" The westerner's eyes widened as she realised what had been said. "Whaddya mean she looked like me? She looked like you!"

The socialite frowned. "I think I know what I look like, Red, and she looked nothing like me. She even had that scar and the broken nose." How did I notice that in such a brief glance?

Red's face mirrored Evadne's as her brows furrowed in puzzlement, "How?" I weren't that drunk, I know what I saw." She gave a piercing look, "Are you sure? You can't have got more than a fleetin' glimpse."

Despite the annoyance she felt at her word being doubted, the socialite responded calmly, "The hood fell away as she went through the window, there was no mistaking this…" she ruffled the already tousled red-gold hair "…or your face."

Scowling, the subject of the unexpectedly affectionate gesture batted away the familiar hand. "Well I saw your face, Evadne; I have no doubt over that."

A dark eyebrow was raised, "Perhaps you had drunk…"

Before she could complete the sentence, a threatening finger snapped up to an inch from her nose as an increasingly angry Red growled, "I was not so drunk as to mistake my face for yours, Evadne Lannis!"

Well she obviously believes what she saw, and I know what I saw. A calming hand was laid over the aggressively pointing one, "Alright then, so if we both saw…"

The westerner looked sideward for a moment, jaw clenching, and then turned back to glare angrily at the socialite out of the corner of her eyes. Emphasising her words by repeated hard pokes to the other woman's chest, she snarled, "I saw what I saw!" She could feel the rage flaring but the residual pain from her side and the alcohol still sloshing around her body were hampering her attempts to control it.

Shocked at the pokes, Evadne stepped back, unconsciously raising her hand to rub the abused spot. In the dim light of the corridor she was worried to see the feral rage she'd been glimpsing increasingly frequently since the warehouse begin to surface in her partner's eyes as they changed from blue-green to a stormy grey. She took another unconscious step backwards. Tread carefully now, Evadne, she's hurt and drunk and thinks you are calling her a liar.

However, before she could say anything, the threatening hand dropped and her assailant turned quickly away into what the socialite now recognised as the habitual method of controlling her anger. She watched, concern warring with fear on her face, as her troubled friend stood with bowed head, forehead pressed gently against the wall. Clenched fists moved to either side of her head, like the blinkers on a horse, blocking out any distraction that would hamper the internal struggle to get raging emotions back under control.

The solid, cool presence against her forehead began to ground her anger. Slowly her hands relaxed and she began to breathe calmly once more. Pushing away from the wall Red turned to look guiltily at the silent, concerned watcher. "Christ, Evadne, I'm sorry." She looked down at the hand that had poked her friend and had come within a hairsbreadth of punching her. "Thought I had it under control again," she whispered, more to herself than to any listener although the older woman caught both the words and the fear in the voice.

The socialite put a hand on a still tense shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Don't dwell on it, Red; she knew that she had to get her attention onto something else. "Come on, we have a room to investigate. "

"Yeah," Red let out a sigh as the final remnants of the pent up aggression left her body. Looking at her long-suffering partner, she gave an apologetic half smile, "Lead on then, Sherlock."

As she followed the elegantly clad back, her deeply buried but still powerful self-doubt made the westerner wonder, not for the first time, why the wealthy socialite put up with her. If her blunt bull-dagger attitude wasn't enough to have scared the woman off, then the barely controllable rages should have sent her running for the hills a long time since. I know I scare her still, she thought bitterly, having seen clear as day the fear in the brown eyes just a few moments previously, so why the hell does she stick with me? She says she is my friend; that had been a total surprise, that god-awful early morning in Evadne's kitchen when the older woman had asked her what she'd been thinking, finishing the question with the almost off the cuff 'that's what friends are for.' But why? Why me? Why her? It makes so little sense. Hell, it makes no sense! Unable, yet again, to unravel the mystery any further than she had been able to do on other such occasions Red gave up trying. If nothing else, she's saved my life at least twice. A sudden thought crossed her mind and she stopped suddenly, unable to prevent the amused snort.

Turning, Evadne gave a puzzled look. "What?"

"I was jus' thinkin' how you've saved my life… twice," she chuckled.

A dark eyebrow rose imperiously, "And that made you laugh?"

Grinning back, the westerner explained, "Nah, not that. I jus' realised that I'd never been shot neither 'til I met you. So does that make you a good or bad luck charm?"

Evadne rolled her eyes, "I am neither, as well you know." The tiniest of smiles twitched the corner of her mouth. "You're always telling me we make our own luck so don't go blaming your damage magnet abilities on me."

"Damage magnet eh? Hmmm." She grinned, looking up as if pondering the phrase. "Red 'damage magnet' Wolverton. Yeah, I could get used to that. It's almost as good as Evadne 'slow poke' Lannis," and with a cheeky grin she strode past her partner and down the corridor to where she now knew the room to be.

Slow poke eh? Just because you have longer legs! With a final exasperated shake of the head, the socialite hurried after her mercurial friend.

By the time she' caught up with the westerner, she was standing in the doorway of the room, repeatedly taking one-step in then one-step back. Noticing her arrival, Red turned a puzzled frown in her direction.

"Come here, walk through the doorway."

She did as requested then gave a questioning look.

"You don't feel it?"

"What?"

"The temperature drop."

"Well, the window is open in here; of course it is going to be colder." An edge of sarcasm touched the socialite's voice.

Annoyed at the tone, Red looked hard at the older woman for a second, feeling the recently quashed rage begin to flare again, before with an effort, subduing it once more. Christ, it's still gettin' worse, not better: how long before I say or do somethin' I'll really regret. Taking a mental deep breath she calmly explained, "But the door's been open since we left it, so why the sudden drop at the entrance?"

Now it was the socialite's turn to frown. She repeated her steps back and forth across the room's boundary before looking confusedly at her partner. "You're right." A memory flickered in the back of her mind, "Just before that... person… shot you I felt a sudden coldness pass through me… do you think they are related?"

The westerner looked thoughtful. "I know this seems like an odd question but have you ever heard any rumours 'bout the place bein' haunted?"

"Haunted?" She snorted, "Are you serious?"

The look on the younger woman's face confirmed she was, indeed, very serious. "After the warehouse d' you really doubt there're things out there we don' know about?"

"True." The socialite considered the question for a moment. "No. I can't say I ever have heard anything of that sort said about this house." She gave a questioning look. "Why?"

"I think I saw one earlier, by the stairs," Red saw the doubt on the older woman's face. "Yeah, I know, I was drunk, but I felt that coldness you mentioned, an'…" this was not something she would normally admit to,"… an' fear. Thought I saw a figure go up the stairs but when I followed there was nobody there." She gave a self-deprecatingly, lopsided grin, "Thought it was the drink at the time, but now?"

Evadne nodded thoughtfully. The big bad wolf admitting to fear? It must have been real, or at least she thought it was real - and isn't that just what I felt as well? "I felt it too, with the cold. I mean I was already scared, who wouldn't be," she noticed her partner's sudden smirk, "well what normal person wouldn't be afraid, confronting intruders like that. But the fear that came with the coldness, it was almost," she searched for the word, "primal. The sort of fear our ancestors must have felt at the sound of predators in the darkness." Even the memory made her shudder involuntarily.

Nodding at the description, the westerner agreed. "Yeah, that's right, it jus' seemed to go straight to my gut. Even asleep I felt it."

The two women shared a silent look, both wondering what the strange experience heralded. Eventually Red broke the silence.

"C'mon, this ain't gonna get the cookie crumbled," and she entered the room, making her way carefully to where the intruders had been kneeling. Taking the same position, she felt around the floorboards. "Looks like this one's the board they were gonna lift," casting around with her eyes, she retrieved the jemmy from where it had rolled under a chair to be missed by the police. "Damn flatfoots, can't pour piss out of a boot with instructions on the heel," she muttered derisively then, with an almost childlike grin added out loud "Okay, lets see what they were after."

"You'll aggravate…" the concerns were cut short when, with the sound of splintering wood, the board came suddenly away. Red, whose whole weight had been pressing down on the other end of the jemmy, let out a hiss of pain as her side complained at the sudden jarring.

"Told you." The admonishment was both concerned and annoyed. "You take too little care of yourself, Red, one day that body of yours is going to fight back."

"Yeah, yeah." The westerner shook off the comments as a dog shakes off water, all attention now on finding out what was under the board.

Rolling her eyes in familiar frustration, Evadne moved to the younger woman's side, peering over her shoulder into the hole in the floor, a dark and unexpectedly deep looking hole. "I'll get a flash light, won't be long." Just as she reached the door, she turned to where an obviously impatient investigator was down on her front trying to peer into the hole. "Please don't put your hand in until we have checked that there isn't anything dangerous in there." The guilty glance proved that had been just what her hotheaded friend had been considering. "Please?"

"'kay." Red nodded, pushing herself easily up from the floor and turned to sit with her back against the wall. "Go on then, get the light," she waved the socialite away with a flap of the hand and a grin, "I'll guard the loot."

She hurried along the corridors in the direction of the study were she was sure Theo would be. What on earth is going on here? Moreover, who…what… was that woman, I was so sure… No! She did look like Red. Yet Red says she looked like me. How can that be? She stopped at a sudden memory. She was talking all the time, like a chant… or a spell? Could it possibly have been something like that? She had now reached the door of the study and parked the thought for the moment as she opened the door. The fixed gaze her mother and Theo gave her as she came through the door made her stop in her tracks.

"What's the matter?" she asked in concern.

"I think we need to explain why we asked you here in the first place." Theo replied.

"I should get Red." A hand was turning the door handle even as her mother's voice stopped her.

"No, now, please," her mother pleaded.

Now definitely worried she took a seat, legs inexplicably shaky.

Theo cleared his throat before, with a final glance at his soon-to-be wife, he started. "You know of course that we have not been in Boston for the last six months and that during that time the house has been closed up. You also know that it was not our original design to return for at least a year."

She nodded. Her mother had told her of their plan to tour the world. The early return had been unexpected but no more than that. At least it hadn't seemed to be - now she was reconsidering that opinion.

"We returned because we'd received some disturbing reports from the agent who was looking after the property in our absence. It appeared that someone had spotted lights on in the house and, knowing we were away, had reported the fact to the police. They, in turn, had contacted Mr. Miles. He had confirmed that no one was supposed to be in the building and thus the police had gone out to check. Mr. Miles, of course, had accompanied them. On inspection, there seemed nothing wrong with the house, no sign of forced entry and the interior seemed undisturbed."

Looking from one upset face to the other, Evadne had a sudden flash of insight. "That isn't all though is it?"

"No it isn't," this time her mother took up the story. "Mr. Miles decided to keep a close eye on the property in case it was being used for some sort of unsavoury purpose…"

Unsavoury? came the sudden, uncharitable thought. You mean you feared that some poor homeless soul had decided to use it.

"… so he employed a watchman to keep an eye on the house and grounds. Nothing further happened for a week, and then the watchman went missing. He was eventually found…" her mothers voice broke off and Theo took up the story once more.

"The poor man was found wandering around the streets gibbering like an idiot, apparently out of his mind."

The socialite couldn't help but think of the fear she had felt for that brief moment. Had that been responsible for the man's affliction, Theo's next words seemed to confirm her thoughts.

"The only word that could be deciphered from the man's incoherent ramblings was 'Cold'. Although the police were once more asked to investigate, there again seemed to be no signs of anything suspicious in the house and the man's loss of his wits was put down to a sudden fit of madness."

"Despite the fact that his wife had protested he was the most sane and practical of men," her mother cut in vehemently. "Poor, poor woman," she said quietly, "To see her husband reduced to such a wreck."

"Unfortunately that was not the worst of the incidents." Theo paused for a moment as if gathering his thoughts. "It was at this time that Mr. Miles informed us of what was happening and that he believed the house was indeed being used for some nefarious purpose. We started home as soon as we received his telegram. Unfortunately, by the time we had returned Mr. Miles himself had disappeared, apparently sometime shortly after sending the telegram. His sister had no idea where he had gone but his journals showed that he had taken to checking on the house himself and that he had finally found sign of activity in the house." With a regretful shake of the head, Theo continued, "Unfortunately it appears that the young man, rather then report what he had found to the proper authorities, decided to investigate it himself. It would appear that whoever he found had no compunction about removing him in some form or other."

"And what have the police found out about his disappearance?"

Theo and her mother exchanged a guilty glance. "We haven't told them," the older man admitted shamefacedly.

"But his sister, surely she has reported him missing?"

"She has, but as far as she and the police are concerned it is a simple missing person investigation, they have no idea about what he had been doing here. What they don't know, what I haven't told them, is that young Miles, on the very day he disappeared, had left instructions to send his journals to me should he not collect them the next day."

Evadne was amazed and more than a little shocked. "But, Theo, you must. Surely you realise that you have been withholding evidence?"

He nodded. "I know, but I… we…. wanted this sorted out without police involvement if at all possible."

"Evadne dear," her mother started, "Theo is within a whisker of becoming the Democratic candidate for Mayor. Any hint of scandal, even one in which he had no direct contact, would ruin his chances. Surely you, of all people, know how fickle the press can be."

The socialite clenched her jaw, she knew all too well how the press could hail you one day and damn you the next. This had been proved in no uncertain way by the way her proposed school for poor young women had been first hailed then, once the fact that she fully intended to give them a 'proper' education and not just prepare them for the servility of married life had been made known, damned on every front page. The praise for her charitable attempts to better the lives of the city's poor unfortunates turning into accusations that she was trying to produce unnatural creatures who would never want the 'natural' womanly roles of wife and mother. She did not like what her mother and Theo were doing but she could understand and, to some degree, sympathise with why they were doing it.

Her mother gave her a tight, worried smile. "Will you help us?"

She looked up at the older couple as another link fell into place. "You think the break in tonight is in some way connected, don't you?"

Theo nodded as his arm moved around Edith Van Deemin's shoulders, giving the visibly upset woman a comforting squeeze. "We want the truth found, Evadne. I… we… believe that you have a better chance of solving this than the police, with their blinkered attitude, ever could." He picked up a pair of bound notebooks from his desk and offered them to the younger woman. "Here, read these, you will see what I mean. Read them and then make your decision. If you don't want to take on the case I will forward them on to the police at once."

And thus put yourself in an even worse position with the accusation of withholding evidence? Usually warm brown eyes narrowed as she studied Theo's face for any sign of duplicity, a hint that he was using the obvious consequences of such an action to subtly lever her into looking into the mystery to protect her mother - but she could see nothing, his statement appeared honest. Taking the notebooks, she nodded her agreement, and then turned to leave. As she opened the door, she suddenly remembered the reason she was here. Oops, Red's not going to be happy about keeping her curiosity in check for so long. Turning back to look into the study she asked, "Theo, do you have a flashlight?"

With a frown of curiosity he nodded and opened a draw in the desk, he withdrew the requested object and passed to over to Evadne.

"Thank you." At his silent question she added, "I'll explain later." With a quick smile, she resumed her exit and hurried back towards her almost certainly bored and therefore most likely grouchy fellow investigator.

On re-entering the storeroom, she was amused to see that, rather than being as antsy as the proverbial cat, the westerner was actually fast asleep. Having moved quietly to where the gently snoring woman sat propped up again the wall, she paused a moment to look down at the peaceful form, a disbelieving smile appearing on her tired face. You weren't joking when you claimed you could sleep anywhere were you, she thought in amusement as she studied the sleeping woman. Relaxed, the youthful face now looked peaceful, almost cherubic. It was a sight that still surprised the socialite, so unlike the almost perpetually half-cynical, half-amused expression of the waking hours. Beautiful. The word came unbidden into Evadne's mind and she smiled wryly at the inappropriateness of both thought and choice of word, No, that wouldn't go down well. Handsome perhaps? Red's head was tipped back against the wall, her mouth slightly open, and for the briefest of moments, Evadne found herself studying the parted lips, wondering what they would feel like, taste like. Stop that, she abruptly scolded herself, that is not the way to be thinking about your friend. Needing to remove the source of the unexpected and distinctly unsettling temptation, she abruptly prodded the sole of one foot with the toe of her shoe. The red-gold head jerked up in alarm then relaxed into a guilty grin as recognition dawned. "Took your sweet time didn' you?" Red complained defensively, smothering a yawn.

"Falling asleep on duty? Tut, tut!" Evadne smirked at the still yawning investigator, glad to be back into a situation without such unwanted temptations.

Red glared sleepily up at the teasing face "Yeah, well I have been up all night, tackled some burglars and been shot for my pains; that's enough to make anyone feel beat."

"Not to mention the best part of a bottle of the finest scotch you also consumed." The socialite snickered before continuing, "Got the flashlight - shall we take a look?"

Suitably distracted, as planned, the westerner took the proffered item and scooted over to the hole in the floor. Clicking the light on she peered into the darkness then lay down and began to stick her head into the hole.

"Red?" I'm beginning to sound like a mother hen, Evadne thought with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. At least this way I am less likely to suddenly start fantasising about kissing her, she added in wry after- thought.

"It's safe," came the muffled response.

"Are you sure? I know what you consider safe!" Definitely a mother hen - who would have thought it?

Red raised her head, turning to face her ever-cautious partner even as she rolled her eyes. "'kay, you take a look, there nothin' in there but a statue."

"A statue?" Interest now piqued, Evadne knelt down as comfortably as her fashionable dress allowed, to look for herself. Peering into the hole, she saw a relatively deep chamber about a foot square by three feet deep, three sides were of stone the fourth of brick. Sitting centrally on the slab of stone that formed the base of the chamber was the statue already mentioned. From the angle they were looking at, it was not obvious what it was, but it appeared to be some sort of bird with wings outspread. She glanced at the younger woman, "Well, it looks safe, but please be careful," then examined the statue again. "Were you going to take it out?"

The westerner shook her head, "Nah, not yet at least. I was tryin' to see if this was part of the original house, I reckon the brick side of the box is the outer wall of the house. Jus' a sec." She let her left arm and shoulder into the hole. After a moment, her eyes closed as she chewed her lower lip in concentration. "Yeah, feels like the stone blocks are knitted into the wall. I would bet this little niche was built in pretty much from the start." A small frown drew together pale eyebrows over the still closed eyes "That's odd. Feels like there's marks or carvin's or somethin' on the stone." Removing her arm from the hole, she hunkered back on her heels, idly brushing of the dust and cobwebs her arm had just accumulated. "D'you reckon your ma'll object if we make the hole a bit bigger?"

The two women exchanged a look that started pensive but ended mischievous. With a huge, almost childlike grin Red took the jemmy and, this time with more consideration of her damaged side, soon pried up enough of the floorboards to uncover the whole of the top of the hidden chamber. Evadne could now just get her head and the hand gripping the flashlight far enough into the hole to see what the westerner's probing fingers had felt.

"You're right, there are carvings on the stones. It looks like it might be Latin though it is difficult to be sure at this angle. I'll get some paper and charcoal later and take some rubbings then we should be able to work out what they are in more comfort."

"Whaddabout the statue?" came her partner's slightly disembodied voice.

"Still can't quite make it out, I think we are going to have to remove it to get a proper look. I'll try and reach it." Placing the flashlight on the edge of the hole, she reached down into the darkness just grazing her fingers over the top of the statue. "Botheration, can't quite reach it." As she pulled herself out of the hole, she caught a muffled laugh and turned to look at the grinning westerner. "What?"

"Botheration? What kind of cuss word is that?" her ruffian partner sniggered.

The socialite raised a disapproving eyebrow. "Just because some of us do not partake of the sort of language that would make a sailor blush does not mean that certain potty-mouthed individuals can make fun of us for it."

The potty-mouthed individual in question was trying, but failing miserably, to keep a straight face. "Yeah, but, surely you can find somethin' more heart-felt than…ouch… 'Botheration'." She was laughing hard now, the guffaws broken only by the occasional wince at the accompanying twinges from her aching side. Her friend's stony face doing nothing to calm the situation as the nervous tension of the evening's eventualities drained from her in the illogical, painfully mirthful outpouring.

The glare soon turned into a smile as Evadne watched the uncharacteristic hilarity and was soon chuckling along herself, glad at the release of the perceptible tension that had been hanging over them ever since their arrival over nine hours previously.

As the laughter eventually subsided, the younger woman grinned, only partly apologetically, "I needed that."

"Have I told you that you are a complete ruffian, Red Wolverton?" Evadne mock scolded.

"Yeah, frequently. But you wouldn' want me any other way would you?" came the teasing response.

Rolling her eyes, the socialite could only agree. "Of course. I am just glad that you are, indeed, one of a kind. I don't think I could cope with there being more than one like you out there."

Still with the grin on her face, the self-confessed ruffian nodded towards the hole, "Want me to have a go at the statue?"

With a mock little bow of the head, the socialite smilingly replied. "Please be my guest."

"So gracious," she smirked back as an arm and shoulder were eased into the hole. With a triumphant grin, she teased, "Looks like those lanky limbs of mine are of some use after all." With a good grip on the statue, she braced against the edge of the hole with her free arm and lifted - only to curse in pain at the unexpected resistance and the resultant pain from her side. "Shit, it must be fixed to the floor or somethin'?" She tried to move it again and felt a subtle movement. So, not fixed. But why so heavy? Feels like it's made of lead or somethin'. With a grimace at yet another complaint from her overused side, she pushed herself up to sit Indian-fashion and scowled in frustration at the broken floorboards. "Look's like it's too damn heavy to lift out like that."

"A rope?"

"Yeah." She gave the dark-haired woman a flirtatious grin, "Knew I kept you 'round for more than jus' the pretty face, sweetheart." She smirked at the familiar eye rolling gesture before continuing more seriously. "Good idea though, reckon that should do it no problem." Looking back at the hole, her voice took on an unexpectedly puzzled tone "Are there cellars under here, with boilers or furnaces?"

"No. At least not that I am aware of," Evadne replied, surprised at the sudden change of subject.

"Weird," The westerner's voice was pensive. "First it's strangely cold up here, then that chamber is unnaturally warm - even the statue feels warm." With a faint shake of the head, she finished her musings in an undertone, "This room's beginnin' to give me the creeps."

"Only beginning?" Her fellow investigator joked half-heartedly. "It's been giving me the heebie-jeebies ever since we first entered it."

Evadne glanced out of the window to where two heads, one grey, one red-gold, were bent in shared veneration of the internal combustion engine. She watched with a mixture of sympathy and annoyance as the westerner slowly straightened up from her worship under the hood of the Ford 'A', the usual gangling looseness marred by the unmistakable stiffness in the damaged side. It's a wonder she ever heals, you practically need to tie her down in order to get her to rest. The older woman rubbed her lower back, still sore from the jarring fall in the warehouse of over a month ago. Ha! Give it a few more years and there will been none of this irritating bouncing back from injuries; then she'll regret the care she's not been taking.

At least the carelessly scruffy destroyer of clothing wasn't getting the dress suit covered in oil, being once more clothed in the usual drab selection of blacks and browns; the smartness of the night before now replaced by the westerner's usual sartorial inelegance - the current attire having been taken apparently randomly from the small selection she now kept at the 'Palace'. Since the enforced stay, while recovering from the physical and emotional trauma of Janet's death, Red had become a regular visitor at Evadne's house - often staying overnight in the room that had become de-facto hers. Such stays were often as the result of a case that had been hard on either body or clothes, often both. As such, the socialite had made the tentative suggestion that some spare items be kept there. She'd half expected the prickly westerner to refuse the offer, having realised early on that she valued her independence and her own space even if her apartment was, the socialite considered, not fit to keep a dog in. The affirmative response to the suggestion had therefore temporarily wrong footed her. A fact that must have been obvious as the acceptance had been swiftly followed by the somewhat defensive explanation, "Hey, I'm only protectin' my dignity here. You may think me wanderin' 'round in clothes five sizes too big is amusin'; but I feel like some kid dressin' up in their pa's clothes." It hadn't been long before she began to suspect that the ruffian was deliberately keeping her scruffiest and must disreputable clothes at the irreverently christened 'Palace of Pleasures' just to irritate the socialite's innate sense of style. "Palace of Pleasures, indeed," she muttered, unable to stop a small smile forming at the memory of the first time she'd heard the distinctly dubious appellation. At her exasperated, mildly scandalised reaction, Red had explained in an innocent voice, while smirking evilly, that she was "referrin' to the comfortable beds an' Maria's breakfasts of course - whadaya think it meant?"

Now observing chauffeur and westerner in friendly conversation, the socialite's mind drifted back to something Joe Martelli had said to her. It had been shortly after the still-troubled westerner had returned from burning down the Wilkinson sanatorium, and thus adding arsonist to her growing list of felonious activities. He'd been trying to persuade her not to kick his long-time friend out of the house - something that Evadne, if the reporter had only known, had already decided against.

Joe's face was earnest, even pleading and she wondered what it was about the annoying, mule-headed, thoughtless, scoundrel of a woman that seemed to generate such loyalty. Her irritated musings were derailed however when Joe made the most unexpected of comments. 'She won't admit it but I think she likes it here, from what I know she has never really had a real family life, not since she was a youngster anyway, I think that is what you and Maria and even James are providing somehow.'

Frowning slightly, she expanded on the allusion. So Marie would be the mother in this pseudo-family and James the father. I wonder what that makes me, the annoyingly over-protective big sister?

Shaking her head in rueful amusement at the strange ways her mind wandered, she turned away from the window. Stretching her neck to work out the kinks caused by too much time already spent hunched over her desk, she returned to her desk. It may have been a Sunday, but she wasn't going to waste any time getting to grips with their new case and the senior partner had been more that happy to let her loose on what they'd found last night, while she got to gratify her mechanical-tinkering needs. On the polished desktop with Mr. Miles' notebooks were rubbings of the carvings from the stones lining the cavity and a sketch of the statue they had eventually retrieved from its hiding place. The statue's unexpected weight had been easily explained once the grime of years had been wiped off to expose the golden surface underneath. The six-inch high, solid gold statue of a bird, possibly an eagle, with wings spread wide was now safely deposited in her mother's private vault, all four of them having decided it was by far the best place for it to be. The notebooks had turned out to be more like aide-memoires than finished documents and it was taking some effort to decipher exactly what the now vanished man had been recording and, of that, what was directly related to the goings-on at Pater Hall. After another stretch of the neck, this time elucidating a small crack as vertebrae shifted and settled, she resumed her study.

If the socialite could have seen the wince that passed over Red's face on straightening up, she would have been less convinced by the apparent nonchalance over her injuries. The investigator had been barely able to move when she'd woken from a short and uncomfortable sleep, her side so stiff that it had taken a good fifteen minutes before she was able to bend down far enough to pull on her pants.

On examination, she'd found the deep purple bruise on her ribs was now the size of a dinner plate and beginning to get a reddish-green shadow as the blood drained down through the skin of her side. In addition to this spectacularly hued discomfort, the stitched gouge in her side still stung from where the previous nights blood spotted dressing had been peeled off and replaced with a fresh one. Definitely gettin' old, she moaned in the secrecy of her head, an' I'm still not sure that damn rib ain't busted despite what the doc said.

"What did you two get up to last night?" The chauffeur asked curiously. "I thought you were just going to one of Mrs. Van Deemin's soirees. Don't tell me you managed to get into trouble there?"

Giving her most hurt look, she mock complained. "Hey, it ain't my fault if it follows me like vultures do a dying doggie." Wiping her hands on the less oily of the rags available, she continued, "Actually the evenin' weren't too bad, considerin'. It was when we found the burglars it all started goin' down hill." She smirked as James' eyebrows went skywards.

"Duw, you certainly know how to find trouble in even the most innocuous of settings don't you Red-bach."

The investigator frowned in puzzlement, she'd heard him use that word a number of times but didn't understand what it was, and his accent had been bothering her for weeks now, the slight singsong and the rise at the end of the sentences was familiar but she couldn't quite place it. "Dew? What's that, James, you use it a lot?" She grinned. "My guess is it's a cuss word an' you don't want Evadne to know it."

He smiled back, "Well you aren't far off. It's a Welsh word."

Of course, "So, what does it mean? Come on, give!"

With a roll of his eyes, the chauffeur gave. "It just means 'God' - not that bad really."

She considered the older man, a thoughtful look on her face.

"What?" He demanded under the scrutiny

"Oh nothin', I was jus' wonderin'… 'James'… notta very Welsh name, is it? I mean, don't they usually have more 'l's or somethin'?"

"It's quite a common surname in the south actually."

"It's your surname?" The investigator was surprised, and a little shocked, that she'd been calling this man by his surname all this time. "Don't you find that a bit… patronising…bein' called by your surname all the time?"

He smiled ruefully, "Actually no, it is much easier than trying to teach people how to say, let alone spell, my first names correctly."

"Which are?"

"Taliesin Llewellyn." Seeing the astonished look, he continued, "Ma was a bit of a romantic about the Welsh legends see, so I'm named after our greatest bard and one of our greatest kings."

Despite attempts to look serious, Red couldn't help the twitch at the corner of her mouth that soon became a broad smile. "Yeah, I see what you mean; they certainly are a mouthful ain't they." As he grinned back, she took the next step in the gentle interrogation. "So, you ever been hitched, James? I see you wear a ring but I've never heard talk of a Mrs. James?" His jaw clenched briefly and she immediately wished the words unspoken.

"Yes, I was married. She left me, couldn't stand life in service see, said I could do better."

"You didn't think you could?" She was frankly astonished that this obviously capable man hadn't, in fact, done what his wife had suggested.

"No, it wasn't that. Gwen didn't understand that I had an obligation to Mr. Van Deemin - Evadne's father." He gave a sad smile "Loyalty has always been my undoing," he fingered the currently oil smudged ring, "even to her."

She didn't know how to reply to this without hurting him further. How can he be loyal to a woman that left him? Jeez, he musta been fightin' 'em off with a stick when he was younger. "Well I'm sure Evadne appreciates it." She gave the man a sly grin, deciding to shift the conversation away from the emotional quick sands she'd stumbled into. "Even I appreciate it, despite you nearly droppin' me on my head after I brought Bessie back." She gave the vehicle in question a fond pat.

The chauffeur raised a greying eyebrow. "Oh, has Maria been telling tales on me then?" Suddenly somber, he looked seriously at the roguish young woman; remembering how he'd first seen her in a crumpled, unconscious heap in the Van Volk's hallway and how his employer had taken her in and cared for her. He still did not fully comprehend why she did it, especially after everything the investigator had done. "I still haven't forgiven you for that see; that you could so abuse Mrs. Lannis' hospitality. Let alone the damage you could've caused had her involvement, albeit involuntary, in the hospital's destruction become known."

Temporarily taken aback by the abrupt change of mood, the investigator now returned the serious look with a hard stare. How dare he judge me! He knows nothin', nothin' of what that fuckin' place put me through! Feeling the increasingly familiar flicker start up deep in her gut, she said in a flat voice, "I meant Evadne no harm, I woulda taken whatever she'd decided to do, but I ain't gonna say I'm sorry for doin' it!" With that, and now visibly angry, she turned swiftly on her heels and stalked towards the kitchen door and away from the fuel that would feed the flame of her rage.

Evadne winced at the sound of the kitchen door slamming. Without even looking up she knew who it was that had so noisily entered the house - neither James nor Marie would let a door shut like that, professional pride would not allow it. Another slam, then the door to the study abruptly opened and the culprit stormed in, flinging herself down into the window seat to glare out over the snow-covered garden. The socialite glanced briefly at the seated figure then returned to her work. She'd begun to work out how these moods worked, this looked to be the sub-categories of 'angry' she'd defined as 'defensive': if it had been 'righteous' the entire story would have been told in graphic detail by now, and if 'guilty' the westerner would be alone somewhere, venting her anger on some unsuspecting inanimate object. At least there was now a useful way for her to expend such anger - the last time she'd needed an outlet had coincided with the arrival of the month's supply of logs, the splitting of which was the least favourite of James's responsibilities.

A few minutes after the westerner had stormed out of the kitchen, Evadne was surprised to hear a flurry of axe blows and the sound of rapidly splintering wood. She exchanged a surprised glance with James, the other half in the argument that had led to the swift exit.

"Looks like I'll have to annoy her more often, if it drives her to chop wood," he commented, still angry with the aggravating woman in his own turn. The chauffeur hastily retracting his comment with a defensive, "Hey, only joking," when his employer's raised eyebrow indicated just what she thought of that idea.

With a final glare, just to clarify that she did not want Red annoyed just to get the wood chopped, she went out to check up on what her friend was doing, concerned with what the combination of a angry westerner and a sharp axe could lead to. By the time she'd reached the old stables where the wood was stored, the frenzied chopping had relaxed into a methodical pattern.

Red glanced up as Evadne came round the corner of the stables, then threw the neatly split bits of wood onto the pile before placing the next log on the block. Adjusting it slightly, she swung the felling axe in one smooth movement, bringing it down and neatly splitting the log in two, then bent to pick up one of the halves and place it once more on the block.

Radiating out from the chopping block the socialite noticed what must have been the results of the initial frenzied bout of axe work in the form of a splintered halo of wood lying on the top of the first fall of snow. Indeed, even the iron-hard lump of old oak used as the block seemed to have suffered from the westerner's fury, a number of pale, new cuts showing in its top and edge. "Well if I ever decided to go into the match stick business I shall know who to call," she commented conversationally, shivering slightly in the cold despite the heavy coat she'd donned on her way out.

A sullen glance, then the axe rose and fell once more. The resultant log quarter was replaced on the block and split once more before the neat billets were tossed over to join their fellows.

"I suppose this is one of your many skills?"

"If we needed wood cut we did it, didn't have someone to do it for us," came the derisive growled response.

Ignoring the jibe, the socialite asked, "Surely your father…"

"Yeah, right!" the contempt in the westerner's voice made it obvious what she thought of that suggestion. "Too busy reading that damn bible of his, an' preachin' on how we should all work for the glory of god, to do any himself."

"You didn't have any brothers?"

Red tossed the last bits of the current log onto the pile then turned to face her partner. "What difference would that make?"

"But surely it would have been your brother's task to…"

"Again, what difference would that make?"

The socialite was flummoxed by this. Although a supporter of rights for women and actively involved in educational charities to that end, she found the stubborn refusal to accept any of the gender norms confusing and, sometimes, down right contrary. "Well, a boy is, well more suited for that sort of task. A girl would help her moth…" even as she said the words she realised quite how stupid they sounded in relation to the figure standing in front of her. However, even as she recognised this, she also realised that the younger woman had made a rare, it tacit admission, about her family and she followed up on that slip. "You have a brother?"

"Never said that." The westerner said defensively, taking another lump of wood, the methodical reduction to more manageable pieces beginning once more.

"You do have a brother." She was sure now - Red was only ever evasive like this when she was trying not to lie, and the socialite had come to realise that she did not lie. She might not tell the whole truth or just clam up and just not say anything at all, but she did not directly lie, even when the truth, as it often did, got her into trouble - it was one of the strangely endearing qualities that helped balance the darker side to her character.

Red had finished the latest log and, with a final swing, embedded the axe into the block before rolling her neck and shoulders. "Damn, it's been too long since I did that, shoulders gonna be killin' me tomorrow."

"Well I'm sure James won't object should you feel the need again." The socialite smiled as a now amused face turned in her direction.

"What, an' spoil all his fun?"

"You are evil, Red Wolverton."

"Yup!"

"But you aren't going to deflect me from finding out about your brother." The blue-green eyes went hard for a moment, and the socialite wondered if she'd overstepped the bounds of their still-youthful friendship, then the younger woman's face relaxed into a rueful smile and Evadne breathed a small sigh of relief.

"Okay. I have a brother. Happy now?"

She smiled in triumph. "What is his name?"

"Jed."

It was like getting blood out of a stone. "How old?"

A brief pause then the reluctant answer. "Eighteen."

The socialite frowned, Eighteen? A lot younger than his sister who, if her own investigations were correct, was around twenty-seven - even if she had yet to get her to admit to it. He must have been born not long before her mother died. A knot slowly formed in her stomach as she suddenly realised what must have caused Elizabeth Wolverton's death. Her thoughts must have been reflected on her face as she heard a tight voice confirm them.

"Yeah, eighteen years since ma died." A sad look settled over the youthful face.

Evadne glanced at her friend, wanting to offer her sympathy but knowing that it was unlikely to be accepted. She was surprised when she saw a sad little smile appear on the somber face.

"Weren't his fault, poor little tyke. An' if she hadn't died I would probably never have run away as I did, I woulda gone back, tried to look after her, protect her." The westerner's face hardened, "An', if I had gone back, I reckon one of us woulda ended up dead, me or pa. So perhaps, after all, it were for the best." She shivered suddenly, the warmth built up by the exertion of wood chopping rapidly dissipating. "C'mon, let's get back in. I'm freezin' my tits off out here."

Glancing once more at the red-gold haired figure still staring out over the snow-blanketed garden, she went over the hard logic of those words again. They'd left the older woman momentarily speechless when she'd first heard them and, weeks later, she still found them hard to comprehend. She could never imagine saying that her father's death had been 'for the best', even though her parents relationship had not been a happy one. Although they'd apparently stopped loving each other, they'd both still loved their clever, dark-haired daughter and that had been enough to keep them together and civil, in Evadne's presence at least, until her father's death when she was seventeen. It had only been some years after her father's untimely death that the stories of his infidelities had finally reached her ears, and she now knew that her mother had hardly been blameless in that direction either. Although shocked at their behaviour, which seemed to strike at so many of the virtues she held dear, such as honesty and fidelity, she could not hate them for it. Now her mother appeared to have met a man who could make her happy again, and she genuinely wished her all the joy in the world.

Perhaps inevitably, her thoughts came around to Geoff. They'd been so happy together, so content with what the world had given them. Geoffrey Lannis had been a scholar, a Doctor of Philosophy specialising in classical European history, and had been within in inch of tenure at the Myskatonic when America had declared war on Germany. She'd tried to persuade him that it was not his war to fight, that it was a young man's war, not one for a nearly thirty year old, especially one so close to his professional goal-in-life, to be getting into. She smiled sadly, twenty-seven had seemed so old at the time, yet here she was nearer forty than thirty, and it now seemed so young. Same age as Red, she realised in surprise, yet he'd seemed so much older.

She stared into space for a while longer then dragged her wandering mind back from the past to concentrate on the here-and-now, more specifically, Mr. Miles' journals. She gave her still scowling, silent companion a final glance - she'd eventually worked out that the best approach with 'defensive' was to carry on as normal. If Red wanted to talk about it then she'd initiate the conversation, otherwise just being in company appeared to be all she needed, that and something that provided a good staring opportunity, a window overlooking a garden for instance.

She'd got though three more pages of the journal, at last beginning to understand the abbreviations and style of note taking, when she heard movement from the window seat and then Red was standing beside her looking down at the notes she had been making.

"Anythin' interestin'?"

At least the westerner's anger tended to fade as quickly as it flared, even if the lack of acknowledgment that it had even occurred still unsettled her. Evadne was self-aware enough to realise that she, in contrast, had a tendency to apologise at the drop of a hat for everything and anything, something which appeared to annoy the westerner as much as her inability to say that little word 'sorry' annoyed the socialite. Just because I was brought up to be polite and that ruffian doesn't appear to know the meaning of the word.

"Well?"

"Nothing specific at the moment, most of what he says is routine and doesn't relate to mother's house. It doesn't help that he uses his own form of short hand." She flicked back a couple of pages "Here is the entry I believe relates to the first incident, certainly the date fits. 'Lights at PH', I take that to mean Pater Hall, 'FF called', not sure about that, I assume it relates to the police in some way?"

The westerner gave a small chuckle. "Looks like our man has a sense of humour - reckon that stands for flatfoot."

Rolling her eyes, Evadne agreed. "Alright, that makes sense I suppose. Then it says 'No sign break in. Still safe'."

"Still safe? Nothing more?" Red bent over to examine the passage in question.

"No, see for yourself, the next entry is for the next day and is completely unrelated."

Having examined the passage to her satisfaction, the westerner moved from her position peering over her partner's shoulder to sit down in one of the comfy chairs opposite, a frown on her face." Still safe? Odd wordin'," she muttered then shrugged, "Could mean anythin' though. Anythin' else?"

"Not yet." Seeing the frowning woman about to say something more, she carried on. "I'll let you know when I find the next entry."

The senior partner grinned wryly at being so obviously read. "You know me - no patience at all."

"I had noticed," the junior partner smiled back. She picked up a small sheet of paper from the journal and held it out. "This might keep you occupied in the meantime. Not sure if it's related but it certainly seems out of place in amongst a man's business documents.

Taking the paper, the westerner first noticed its shiny thick texture. She looked curiously at the other woman. "Weird paper."

"That'll be because it's parchment."

A pale eyebrow rose at that. "Yeah?" She studied the parchment, it had a slightly yellow look and felt brittle, "Old as well I'd guess."

"And you'd be correct, though how old I wouldn't like to say."

Now studying what was written on the page, she commented, "Looks like a poem of somethin'," then read aloud:

"When the Raven returns,

And light joins the dark.

When defences are broken,

And Wolf turns on Lion.

When the Deceiver returns,

And the Six meet once more,

Then the time will have come.

When the Raven returns,

At one with the Wolf.

When sanctuary is opened,

And Light harms the Dark.

When the Chosen unite

On the darkest of days.

Then the power can be taken.

Then the choice will be made,

And its future decided."

Finishing her recitation, the westerner frowned. "More a Prophesy than a poem."

A small smile quirked across the socialite's lips, "Well it certainly wasn't kept for its literary merits." Seeing the rolled eyes from across the desk, she finished, "Nevertheless, it is so out of place in these journals as to be notable for that fact alone. I also wonder if that statue we found wasn't a raven. Originally I thought it might have been an eagle but the beak looked wrong."

Taking the picture off the desk, she studied it thoughtfully. "You're right; it does look more like a raven." Looking up, she teased. "Another secret I see," waving the sheet of paper, "holdin' out on me again are you?"

Perplexed at the change of subject, the socialite frowned - then her face cleared. "Oh, you mean the sketch? It's not that good really."

Red shook her head slightly at the modesty. "Looks damn good to me." She'd been surprised and then immensely impressed at both the accuracy and speed with which the drawing of the golden statue had been done. Another useful skill the socialite had, especially as she'd never really got past the stick figure stage. Returning to the parchment, she muttered, "When the raven returns?" Returns where? Can a statue return? Now with a puzzle of her own to work on, she silently left the room.

Not long after, the rhythmic sound of axe on wood could be faintly heard as the mindless task was put to its other use - aiding the westerner's thought processes. Evadne smiled, must make sure we never run out of wood for her to chop, then returned to her own puzzle.

The last time I was here was when the poor bastard Edgar attacked me, Red thought with a mixture of sadness and guilt. Evadne was right - after all he did for me I shoulda least stopped by to say howdy 'fore now. She gave the big man a lopsided smile as he handed her a large and steaming mug of coffee. She'd even restrained from struggling the moment the bear hug engulfed her and, despite the twinge in her side, took a moment to give a brief guilty hug back. Then instinct had reasserted itself and she wriggled out of the grip with the usual muttered complaints about Joe being a complete mush ball with no respect for her hard-won reputation.

Now she studied her oldest friend: he hadn't changed much, except there seemed to be a sadness in his eyes whenever he looked at her, a sadness she hadn't seen before. Yeah, an' we know who's fault that is don't you, Wolf? "So, how you doin', Joe? Gina an' the kids okay?"

"We're fine, little wolf. An' yourself? We haven't seen you since that sanatorium business. I was beginning to wonder if you'd dropped off the face of the earth."

The reproof was unmistakable and the investigator knew she deserved it, but even as her conscious mind was telling her this, something deep inside automatically began to rebel at the accusation. Using a swig of the coffee to cover the moments it took to quickly stamp it down and regain her composure, she replied, more honestly than she'd meant to, "I dunno, Joe. I really don't know."

Joe was surprised by the admission but covered it as best he could. He'd been saddened and more than a little upset by the apparent withdrawal of her friendship. He'd assumed it was in retaliation for what he'd done in the weeks following Janet's murder, even though it had been for her own good. The apparent resentment wasn't unexpected, he knew how the investigator hated being controlled; however, he'd expected it to pass over quickly enough - she'd never been one to hold to a grudge like that between them before. Yet it had been over two months since the whole episode had come to a head and he had not seen her other than in fleeting glimpses since. Nor had he been able to find out whether his friend had been involved in Edgar Van Volk's death. The discovery of his body, shot through the heart and floating in the bay, was still a mystery no one had been able to explain, but his gut told him this woman knew something about it.

As the reporter studied his old friend, he thought that she seemed changed but couldn't quite put his finger upon what it was. She was moving stiffly, favouring her side a little but that wasn't it. It was something in her attitude, the way she carried herself, as if there was some great weight upon her shoulders. The younger woman had always been prone to black moods but, although intense when they descended, they never lasted long and it won't be long before there would be the sometimes flat-footing mercurial mood shift back into the normal devil-may-care bravado. Don't be daft, Joe, she's obviously still grieving over what happened to Janet, that'd put a weight on anybody's shoulder. Still, that didn't seem to ring true either; it didn't seem like the grief he'd seen all too clearly in the investigator after her ex-lover's murder. This was different somehow but, for the life of him, he couldn't say why. An irritated voice cut through his musings and he realised his gaze had gone in the same direction as his thoughts.

"I ain't no freak to be stared at, Martelli."

He stammered an apology, "Sorry, I was just thinking…"

"You do too much of that, Joe," came a still irritated voice, then the accompanying glare softened a little, "I've warned you before, you'll do that poor brain of yours damage if you go 'round thinking all the time."

He gave a wan smile back. Something's definitely eatin' her up - might as well go to the heart of the matter. "So what's the matter then, little wolf?"

"Nothin'." The reply was barely audible.

"C'mon, Red, how long have we known each other - seven years is it? I know when something is wrong with you even if you don't." Again, there was a glare. Nothing new there though, she's never been the touchy-feely type. Even so Joe felt uneasy, there seemed to be a potential for violence in the hard look that he'd never seen before, at least not turned upon him. Then he saw his friend noticeably relax and the glare was replaced by a sad look.

"You're right, of course."

"So?" When Red said nothing further he prompted, "Is it about Janet?"

There was a shake of the red-gold head. "No. Don't think so anyway. I still miss her. Miss her somethin' awful, but I've come to terms with that." Looking at her oft-battered hands clasping the now cooling mug, she continued as if once more persuading herself of the truth of her own statement. "It weren't my fault that Edgar got his head so screwed up." A small regretful sigh escaped her lips. "I still reckon I shoulda heard him in the alleyway but would thata made much difference? He had all the advantages, cover, darkness, surprise - we were nice little targets all set up for him. If he'd plugged me first he probably woulda shot Jan as well - he weren't likely to leave a witness there to say what he'd done, let alone another of those he'd been brainwashed into hatin'." Another sigh and she raised her head so that sad blue-green met sympathetic brown. "It was her choice to save me. I ain't happy she took it, but it was her decision an' I accept an' respect it even if I will always regret she had to make it."

Joe nodded his understanding. He'd had to go through a similar process on returning from Europe, having left so many of his buddies in the never-ending cemeteries dotting the war-torn soil of France and Belgium. He rose from his chair and moved round to give the woman's shoulder a brief squeeze of understanding and sympathy before perching on the edge of the desk. "So, if not that then what is the problem?"

Standing up abruptly, she moved to look out of the reporter's window, out over the freshly snow-blanketed streets. "You know I've a temper on me, Joe, I always have, but I've always been able to control it, use it to my advantage." She turned away from the window to look directly at the reporter. "Recently it's like it's growin' uncontrollably within me, getting' harder an' harder to control. I'm not sure that it won't get to a point were I won't be able to anymore an' then what's gonna happen?" Now she was pacing swiftly around the room, agitation visible in every movement. "I knew it got bad after Katherine an' then Janet, but I got through those - yet its still there an' gettin' stronger by the day."

He sought to reassure her, "I'm sure you'll be fine, Red, you just need time."

"I don't have time." That glare was back, the eyes that stormy grey he'd never seen before and had been subject to twice already in the last half-hour. At Joe's reflexive flinch, they relaxed back into guilty blue-green and she finished sadly. "See what I mean. And it's getting worse."

"I don't know what to say, little wolf, I really don't, but I'll always be here if you need me, you know that don't ya."

Red nodded. "I know, Joe." She gave him a weak smile. "Thanks."

Suddenly he needed to change the subject, get them both out of the depressing mood.

"So how is Evadne? Rumour had it you're getting quite close. Spending time at her house and the like?"

Red bit back the angry retort just in time. He's trying to lighten the subject for Christ's sake - just go with it will you. "She's well. It was partly her suggestion that brought me here." Actually it hadn't been a suggestion, it had been pretty much an order after she'd let slip that she hadn't seen her old friend for so long. "I was told in no uncertain terms that 'such dereliction of duty to such a stalwart friend was a disgrace and that I should remedy it at once'."

The last part of this sentence was made in such a witheringly exact rendition of Evadne's polished Brahmin tones that Joe couldn't help but chuckle. Then he looked carefully at the younger woman as he wondered how to phrase the question he'd been wondering at ever since the older woman had inexplicably taken on his friend's care. Evadne had seemed genuine enough in her wish to help the younger woman with no apparent ulterior motive, treating the investigator much like an unruly puppy as she had nursed her back to health. "Are you…" He felt the blush flood up his neck bringing the half-asked question to an abrupt halt. Red looked at him in puzzlement for a moment, then he was relieved to see her laugh out loud, "Jeez, Joe, I don't go after everythin' inna skirt you know." Then she grinned roguishly. "She certainly ain't bad lookin', in a well-bred sorta way, an' I could do a lot worse I reckon." The grin faded into a thoughtful look. "She's been a good friend to me, Joe, more that I deserve I reckon. I… I care for her… a lot… even when she annoying me to hell an' back tryin' to 'improve' me. But she don't play on the same team, Joe, an' you know I don't seriously hit on straight woman." A teasing smirk twitched the corner of her mouth as blue-green eyes twinkled. "A bit a' mild flirtation jus' to keep her on her toes, that's all."

Relieved at her emergence from the gloom of moments before, he rolled his eyes, "You are incorrigible, do you know that?"

"You make it sound like that's a bad thing," came the laughing response.

Joe shook his head in amusement as he allowed his chuckle to mix with hers. That's more like it. "Why don't you come round to my place tonight? I'm sure Gina will have cooked enough for an extra one." He watched the younger woman pause for a moment, expecting her to decline the invitation. He was surprised when instead she gave him a nod,

"Sure, why not. If Gina don't mind - I don't wanna get into her bad books again," she mock shivered, "small woman can be soooo vicious!"

"Don't tease her then," he gently chided then glancing at the clock, he finished, "C'mon, she'll have my hide if I'm late." He picked up his hat and coat and shrugged them on, glancing once more in his strange young friend's direction, "And lay off giving the kids strange ideas - it took months to get Alex to stop asking for her own fedora."

Grin now firmly fixed on her face, Red shrugged, "Hey, I can't help it if those kids have good taste."

The meal had been as good as Gina's meals always were, and Red was feeling comfortably full. The wine, though not her usual choice, had been pleasant enough and had relaxed her nicely. The kids had been packed off to bed but only after insisting that 'Wolfie' come and tell them a bedtime story. The combination of the food, alcohol and the kids' infectious enthusiasm had led to her easy acquiesce and she had told them the tale of the Rusalki, the unquiet female spirits of Russian mythology that lured young men to their deaths. Of course, she'd made the story both gruesome and frightening enough to get them pleasantly scared. She'd learned that this was the reason they always asked for her stories - the older child, the precocious eight year old Alex, having once confided that she preferred Wolfie's stories because those of her parents were boring and 'only good for little kids'.

Once the children had been suitably settled, the adults had retired to the living room where they now sat as Joe talked about the latest scandal to come the Herald's way. Red was now half-dozing, half-listening in the homely warmth of the room. Gotta do this again, even if it means not teasing Gina. She'd been true to her word and not muttered even the most innocently flirtatious comment in Gina's direction, despite some very tempting opportunities. She'd been genuinely surprised by the warmth of the Italian-American's welcome. It was only after a fleeting reference to the time she'd spent at Joe's house following her release from custody that she'd realised how worried the petite firebrand had been - both surprised and touched by the concern felt on her behalf.

Stretching her back with a contented sigh, the investigator settled back into the chair's comfortable embrace. Other than a few occasions at the Palace, she hadn't been this relaxed in months. Can't expect Evadne to put up with me all of the time. A transitory frown appeared between pale brows. An' at least Joe don't carp on about my drinkin' all the time. She was almost asleep when a familiar name jerked her awake. "Whaddaya jus' say?"

"I said that they still haven't found out who killed Edgar Van Volk." Joe looked carefully at the younger woman; he'd debated the wisdom of bringing up the subject and instead decided to throw the name into his recitation of the day's news to see if it got any reaction. Now he was hoping he wasn't going to regret that decision.

The investigator was immediately suspicious - was Joe fishing for something? He was after all a reporter at heart. "Heard he'd been killed," she said as nonchalantly as she could, before adding bitterly, "Can't say I wept for him, he got what was comin' to him." Seeing Joe looking at her strangely, she asked abruptly. "What?"

"You didn't have anything to do with it, did you, Red?"

Gina gave a start at the question and looked in shock between her husband and his volatile friend before turning an angry glare on her spouse, wondering what on earth he was thinking of accusing her like that. Even if it wasn't in shocking disregard of the rules of hospitality, she feared where a full-scale argument between the two might lead.

Looking hard into her friend's questioning brown eyes, Red felt the unwanted flicker of rage starting up deep in her gut, but all she could see was concern and compassion, no sign of accusation or condemnation and she was able to snuff it out. "Jeez, Martelli, you sure play hard ball don't you. Lure me to your place, feed me up, get a couple of glasses of vino down my throat and then start on the third degree." She was avoiding the question and she knew that Joe would know it; she just hoped he would take the hint and back off. Unfortunately, he would not.

"Just tell me one thing, little wolf, just for my own peace of mind. Just say you didn't kill him."

The flame flickered higher this time and she sat forward in the chair to stare hard at the man opposite as she concentrated on staying calm and keeping her voice steady. "I did not kill Edgar Van Volk, Joe." She thought for an angry moment that he was going to push for more but he must have seen something in her face that warned him off and he gave a brief nod.

"Fair enough, my friend, I believe you. You've never lied to me before. Even when…" Joe didn't finish the sentence, belatedly remembering his wife's presence.

Even when I had killed a man, she finished his sentence in her head. She noticed the confused, worried look on Gina's face at the tension that had descended on the room. As far as she knew the police still had no idea what had happened to Edgar but perhaps the press had been more lucky. 'kay, let's make a necessity out of an evil here. Joe raised the topic so lets find out what he knows. "So, Joe, what are they saying happened to Edgar?" Giving a feral grin, she added, "If they find whoever did it I might jus' look him up an' shake him by the hand."

There was a disapproving hiss from Gina, but Joe just blinked a few times in surprise before grinning unbelievably back. "Dear Mary, Mother of God, Wolverton - and you accuse me of playing hard ball!"

Gina gave an unamused snort then rose from her seat, "Well I'm calling it a night." She gave her guest a brief glare, obviously still unhappy at the earlier comment before relaxing into a weary smile, "Please don't keep him up too long, Red, and no drinking games, his manly pride still won't accept that he can't out drink you."

The investigator grinned briefly back, "Don't worry, Gina, I'll make sure he don't do anythin' stupid." As soon as the small woman left the room, her face turned serious as she finally came to a decision over the question she'd been wrestling with since arriving at Joe's office - whether or not to tell her oldest friend her news. "I'm thinking of leaving, Joe."

"Leaving where?"

"This goddamned city."

"Leave Boston?" Joe was startled, "Where? Doing what?" he blurted out. "You're going to leave what you've built up here?"

"What I've built? Eight years I've been in this stinking town an' I still live in an apartment that a rat would turn its nose up at, still ain't sure I'm gonna be able to cover the bills at the end of the month." The angry words were out before she could stop them. Dropping her head, she stared down at her own hands, their clasping and unclasping a habitual accompaniment to the turmoil of her mind. Unable to meet her old friend's confused, hurt look the westerner sought for the words to explain her feelings. "I feel like I'm being buried alive, Joe, the walls closing in, crushing me. I wanna be able to see the horizon, see further than a few blocks, see grass that ain't tamed. I need to go somewhere where there ain't many people, where I can get my head sorted an' not have people around me I might hurt." She looked up now, meeting her friend's now thoughtful brown eyes. "I've been offered a job, back in Nebraska, an' I'm seriously considerin' taking it."

"Back in…? But I thought…?"

"Nowhere near that son-of-a-bitch."

"Who? What?" The bewilderment was plain in Joe's voice.

"Theo Criffy. Met the guy at that high-class shindig Evadne dragged me too. Seems he's just become engaged to her mother. Anyway, he says he needs someone to work as a general trouble-shooter on his ranches. They're having problems apparently. If I do a good job it could become permanent." Seeing the dubious look on the reporter's face, Red laughed humourlessly, "Oh, I know it stinks to high heaven, but at the moment I'm tempted to take the job just to get me out of this dead-end life. An' it'll be interesting to see what he's up to - see if there is anything Evadne should know about her future stepfather."

"So, you've not accepted it yet?"

A brief shake of the head, "Asked for a few days to think it over."

"Have you told Evadne?"

Another shake. "I…" She'd didn't want the expected in-depth debate on the whole subject, knowing that the older woman would be concerned for her, want to help her make, as she considered, the right decision. However, she didn't want any help - she'd not needed it before and she didn't need it now. "I need to make my mind up first then I'll tell her. If I go she'll get the agency, she'll probably do a better job than me with it anyway."

Joe sighed, he would miss his abrasive yet engaging young friend if she left, but he also realised that this might indeed be just what she needed to remove that weight from her shoulders. "As I said before, Red, I'll always be there for you, whatever you decide to do, even if I'll miss seeing that scowl of yours around the place."

Blue-green, slightly unfocused eyes blinked in surprise, confused by the novel view of the gym's rafters. Dazed thoughts finally resolved into an impressed, fuck but that boy's gotta punch like a damn jackhammer! Still slightly stunned by what had happened, she remained where she'd fallen for a few moments more, feeling the slight bounce in the taut canvas she'd suddenly found herself lying on.

"What's gotten inta ya, girl?" Mickey's voice was both concerned and annoyed, "I've never seen ya lose it like that." He offered her a hand and she was hauled up to stand on only slightly shaky legs.

"Shit, I dunno, Mickey." It had only supposed to be a gentle sparing session: she was after all still recovering from the injuries to her side. Then her opponent, the same guy who had bruised her side the week before, had given a teasing little smile and muttered something about gluttons for punishment and she'd just snapped, the rage flaring suddenly out of control. Her surprised opponent had reacted automatically, sending a ferocious punch into the side of the recklessly unprotected head.

"You okay, Red?" her worried opponent asked.

She grinned ruefully back at him. "I'm fine. That's a mighty fine left you have there by the way."

He returned the smile. "Glad you think so." His face turned suddenly serious. "I shouldn't 've reacted like that though."

A gloved hand was placed reassuringly on the young man's shoulder, "No, that's exactly how you shoulda reacted. Don't worry 'bout it, kid, it was my fault - you reacted exactly as a fighter should."

"G'won, boyo, scram, I'll look after our thick headed idjut here."

The youngster nodded then ducked under the ropes and joined the throng of still stunned watchers.

"Get back ta training ya lazy buggers, there ain't nothin' ta see here." The audience hurriedly dispersed at the old boxer's word. Turning to look sternly at his young protégé, he ordered, "Into my office, now! We need a serious talk 'bout this little display."

Legs now recovered, she slipped through the ropes and headed quickly for the office. Crossing the small space, she was aware of faces turning to watch her. Most showed surprise, a few glee at the way the usually disciplined boxer had completely and spectacularly lost it. Once inside the small office she turned to face the trainer as he shut the office door firmly behind him.

Not taking his eyes off her, he gestured with his head towards a chair. "Sit."

She sat. "Mickey, I…"

"What the hell's wrong with ya girl? Ya've been on the edge of this for weeks. Ya'd never've got punched in the side so bad if ya'd been fighting with ya head not ya heart. If I'd known ya'd turn all emotional on me I'd never've let ya join."

He's no right to talk to me like this, I ain't his kid! "I ain't turning 'all emotional' on you, Mickey," she growled.

"Well ya certainly could've fooled me!" Mickey's famed temper was rising to match her own.

"An' even if it were it ain't none of your damn business." Abruptly standing, she moved to stand nearly nose-to-nose with the glaring old boxer, as both sets of fists instinctively clenched.

"If it causes displays like what we've just seen, it certainly is my business." He snapped back, then reining in his own anger he quietly asked, "C'mon, Red, what's goin' on?"

"None of your fuckin' business, old man!" T`1he rage was back, she realised, struggling to control it but not willing to show this man the weakness she could before Evadne or Joe.

They stared at each other for a long tense moment before the old boxer nodded sadly. "If ya say so, Red."

"I do say so!"

"Fair enough." He looked calmly into the storm-grey eyes. "Ya're banned."

"What?" the sudden pronouncement nearly shocked her out of the rage, "Your kiddin' right? You can't?" The investigator felt sudden desperation as one of her few joys in life was unceremoniously removed.

The veteran trainer moved to the door and opened it. "Ya heard me, Wolverton, ya're banned from the gym 'til ya can control that temper - or 'til ya at least let me help ya ta do so."

Fighting back the unexpected tears, she glared coldly at the older man. "Well fuck you too!" and she shouldered past him, out through the staring crowd, out of the gym and into the falling snow beyond.

Striding furiously along the slush-covered wharf, she could no longer contain the violence and she turned abruptly, putting a fist through the innocent packing crate stacked with its fellows on the edge of the dock. "Fuck him!" Another punch, "Fuck 'em all!" Yet another punch and then the tears of frustration came and she lent her head against the thoroughly battered crate and let them come, not caring who saw.

As the tears slowed, she became aware of footsteps approaching her and she swung around, fists coming up instinctively - then relaxing as she recognised one of the guys from the gym.

"Whaddaya want, Pete?" she growled.

"Jus' checking you're okay."

"Like anyone cares." When did I get so self-pitying, a sudden flash of self-disgust asked, that ain't the wolf's way at all.

"Mickey cares."

Anger flashed back into the blue-green eyes. "Like fuck he does!"

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger?" Pete smiled: he was one of the best boxers at the gym, there was no doubt she'd have no chance against him and he was fully aware of it. "And we thought you might like these." He held out her bundled up clothes.

Mad as she was, she was unable to stop the small, embarrassed grin, "Thought it was goddamned cold out here." She pulled the clothes on over the shorts and singlet she'd been training in, finally ramming the old fedora on her head. You cunning old son-of-a-bitch, sent someone I like after me and one I ain't gotta cat in hell's chance against if that don't work

"Red, you need to let Mickey help you," at the shake of the red-gold head he continued, "I had the same problem you know?"

Now she stared in open disbelief: Pete was the most controlled, most even-tempered boxer she knew.

"Yeah, I know, but I was a wild, angry kid. Mickey got me through it, taught me how to control it - he can do the same for you."

Letting out a long breath, the still angry young woman shook her head once more. "I need to work this out myself, Pete."

For a moment it looked like he was going to argue then he nodded. "Okay, if that's what you want." He turned and took a few more steps towards the gym then turned back once more. "You might be banned from the gym, Red, but don't forget the Anchor - you'll find friends there if you need us."

Picking a cautious path along the refuse-strewn street, Red made her way towards the inconspicuous door outside which lurked a less than inconspicuous bouncer. He nodded at her, opening the door a fraction with one large hand - effectively preventing access while suggesting it was still a possibility.

"Not seen ya here for a while?" the big man's voice was non-committal.

With a shrug, the investigator replied nonchalantly. "Other fish to fry."

The bouncer gave the oft-troublesome young woman a questioning stare. "Heard ya'd switched allegiance to the Lily?"

Glaring at the large man, she growled, "None of your damn business if I did."

He stared for a while longer then grinned. "Hell's teeth, Wolverton, if all the guys that came here had that attitude I'd never get any peace. Now behave yaself: I don't wanna be picking ya sorry ass out of a fight on ya first night back." The cocky half grin, half scowl he received in reply did little to ease his concerns even if the words that followed where somewhat more mollifying.

"Don't worry Barney, I won't start anythin'." As she passed through the now fully open door into the smoky space beyond she added, under her breath, "Might finish it though." The fume-filled room had changed little in the months since she'd last visited. The smell of tobacco, alcohol and unwashed bodies still hung like a haze, the smoke from the former heavy in the air. There was no doubt that the Fouled Anchor was still a dive, and a less than pleasant one at that, but it suited her current black mood. She moved purposefully towards the rough bar, in truth a couple of trestle tables and a number of dubious casks and bottles. Passing through the disreputable clientele, almost exclusively male, she caught the occasional strange looks and muttered comments. Mostly, she suspected, in regard to the arrogant way 'the youngster' carried himself than any recognition as to her gender. That's what happens when you don' keep goin' to a place - your rep drops an' the new faces need re-educatin', she thought in irritation. The face at the bar was at least a familiar one.

"Evenin', Red, long time, no see." the barman greeted the odd woman with the ready fists with a wary smile. "Hope you're not planning on causing any trouble tonight?"

Scowling at the small man, she growled, "I weren't. But I've just had Barney layin' down the law, an' if anyone else asks me I might jus' change my mind."

The barman shook his head in feigned exasperation before getting back to business. "The usual?"

At the answering nod, a glass of the house rotgut was placed in front of her. When the price was stated, she raised an eyebrow. "Getting' a bit pricey ain't you?"

"Costs are going up."

"Well, you certainly ain't spendin' it on the décor that's for sure."

The barman just rolled his eyes and moved on to the next customer as she headed towards what had been her usual corner. Propped up against the bar, back safely against the wall, she'd a good view of the room. Standing there, rapidly downing the fiery whiskey, her frequently ignored and much abused common sense prompted her to ponder why on earth she'd come to the place. The answer was not difficult to find and was depressingly simple - she needed to get blindly, mind-numbingly, forget-about-her-troubles drunk. She could do so on her own of course, but even Red wasn't ready to sink quite that low again, at least not yet. As to her other options - Evadne, pleasant company as she undoubtedly was, definitely frowned on even her normal level of alcohol consumption and Joe's house was not even considered, not with two impressionable young kids on the premises. In any case, she really didn't want either friend to witness the state she was planning on getting into - her self-respect still stretched that far at least. Add to this the fact that she hadn't been able to face the Lily since Janet's shooting and the Anchor became the obvious next option - especially after Pete's well meaning suggestion, although she had yet to see anyone from the gym. Mickey had introduced her to his favourite drinking hole the day she'd been accepted as one of his 'boys' - a good stiff drink being his remedy for a bruised stomach. His sponsorship of the young fighter had smoothed over some, if not all, of the problems she would have undoubtedly experienced had she entered the place uninvited, and the judicious application of her left cross, much vaunted by the unexpectedly proud old boxer, had removed most of the rest. Before the discovery of the Lily, it had been her regular haunt with Mickey's reputation and her own fists creating herself a little niche of acceptance. Unfortunately, it looked like that niche had been severely eroded during her absence.

"What ya doin' here, girly, dressed in them clothes." It was the man the barman had served after her, obviously not the first time he had been to the bar that evening.

"Havin' a drink, same as you," she replied calmly.

"A nice little sasperilla?" he jeered.

"If that's what you want then go get yourself one." The investigator was getting annoyed now, why couldn't she just be left to get drunk in peace, was it too much to ask?

"Why ya little…"

The barman's voice interrupted the drunk's tirade "You really don't wanna do that, buddy."

The brawny belligerent looked over his shoulder, a look of disbelief on his face. "Why, ya gonna do something about it?" His distain at the speaker's small frame was plain in his voice.

Holding up his hands, the barman shook his head. "Nope, not my job. Just thought it was fair to warn you though - seeing as you're kinda new to the place."

"Yeah, well stick to ya business, barman, and keep outta mine."

"Fine advice there, friend," Red commented pleasantly, "so why not keep to it yourself."

"Smart arse dyke!" he snarled.

Smarter than I thought, she grinned, feeling the adrenaline begin to flow at the anticipated confrontation. "Yeah, you gotta problem with that?" Over the man's shoulder, she saw the barman glare at her for a moment before rolling his eyes and sending his boy in the direction of the door. Sending for Barney already eh? Best give him something to be dragged in to settle then, and, with a smirk, she deliberately baited the drunk. "Want your sasperilla now?"

The first wildly swung punch was easily ducked and she popped back up, aggravating grin still on her face. "That the best you can do?" Recovering his balance, just, the drunk collected himself and put in a more organised, if sloppy, combination of blows. These were also avoided, but only barely: the protective little corner was restricting her now. Red ducked under the last punch and moved out into the marginally more open space behind him; as the drunk swung round, cursing fit to burst, she felt the space around her increase as the clientele backed away to give the brawlers room.

"Leave the boy alone, Sean," came one voice from off to her left.

"Boy?" came an amused voice from the same direction, "That ain't no boy - that's our Red."

Glancing towards the source of the voice, she exchanged a grin with a gym regular before ducking the next wild blow. This time she followed up with a blow of her own that landed in the man's gut with force enough to drive out his breath in an alcohol-fume laden exhalation.

He dropped to one knee, looking up at what he'd thought would be easy prey with a look of surprise that swiftly changed to one of anger. "I'm gonna tear ya limb from limb for that." he snarled before launching himself at the infuriating bitch's legs.

Anticipating the move, she jumped sideways, away from the hurtling body, unfortunately, a flailing arm caught her and, instead of landing neatly to one side, she fell hard to the floor, jarring all but forgotten injuries. Grimacing at the sudden flare of pain she rolled to her feet, arm pressed instinctively to the damaged side. Immediately the mood of the watching crowd changed as the protective movement was noticed by both the watchers and her opponent. Now she could hear voices that had been cheering her on switch allegiance, their opinion changing as to the likely outcome of the fight and Red felt the rage begin to stir at their duplicity. Her opponent gave an evil smirk at the realisation that the odds had unexpectedly shifted and he noticeably relaxed, sure now of victory. "Not so cocky now?" he taunted.

Waiting for the pain to subside, she didn't react to the jibe. Stupid, stupid, stupid! The investigator silently berated herself. With no sign of Barney, she realised that the fight needed finishing sooner rather than later - her opponent was going to go for the obvious weakness now, and he would only need one lucky blow for her to be in real trouble. Scenting victory, the drunken Irishman moved swiftly forwards, swinging a roundhouse. She ducked, but not without a complaint from the resurgent pain. Next, a blow aimed directly at the area she was trying to protect was scrappily blocked. Unfortunately, the untidy, pain-affected effort needed to keep the damaged side safe left her face wide open and a large, fast moving fist connected with it hard. Stumbling back a couple of steps, the pain from the newly broken nose radiating through her head, the first, illogical thought was, Evadne's gonna kill me, immediately followed by the more prosaic, fuckin' hell that hurts! Now she felt the rage flaring in earnest at her opponent's prejudiced stupidity, the crowd's fickleness and her own ineptitude. Goaded on by the volatile pairing of rage and pain she lowered her head and charged head first into the big man's stomach, taking them both over into another pain-inducing heap. As the man tried to get up the rage overrode her complaining body for long enough to grab a stained shirtfront and bring her forehead down hard into a surprised face. Hearing the howl of pain it produced, half-stunned at the blow and the accompanying reaction in her own damaged nose, she staggered to her feet. Glaring unsteadily down at her now equally bloody opponent as he clutched his own spectacularly broken nose; still filled with the brightly burning, pain numbing, all consuming rage; she was just about to give the stupid son-of-a-bitch the kicking he so richly deserved when her collar was firmly grasped and she was raised up onto tiptoes.

"I shoulda known!" Barney's irritated yet amused voice rumbled in her ear.

"Hey, I didn' thawt it."

"But ya finished it. Yeah I know."

She struggled in the grip, "Lemme go you gweat overgwown lunk." She lashed out with her left hand only to find it caught and then casually squeezed. "Argh, for fuck'th thake, Barney, you're gonna bwake my hand!"

"Then stop struggling, Red, ya should know better." His voice was as reasonable as the grip was unbreakable.

Rage still burning, she tried to turn in order to bring her right arm to bear but the grip on collar and other hand stopped her. Kicking backwards hard, she made contact with what logic said had to be a leg but that felt more like a brick wall though it did provoke an answering hiss of pain. It, however, made no material difference other than to annoy her captor and earn a shaking that she later swore actually did make her teeth rattle. However, whatever it did to her teeth was nothing to what it did to the pain in her face and suddenly the rage fled under the combined onslaught of pain and Barney's unbreakable grip. As control returned, she stopped the squirming and relaxed to stand on slightly trembling legs, cradling the source of the blinding pain the shaking had re-ignited.

"That's better." The bouncer's voice was definitely amused now.

"You're enjoyin' thith, you vindictive thon-of-a-bitch." The complaint was mumbled into cupped hands.

"Just be glad I wear shin protection, Wolverton, otherwise ya woulda earned more than a rattling." Just to prove his point he gave his captive a gentle shake.

"An' that bathtawd's bwoke my nothe," the investigator continued to complain bitterly, if nasally, as Barney began to frog march his now cooperative captive away from the scene of her triumph, where Sean and his still freely bleeding nose could be seen being 'helped' none too gently off the premises by a couple of the more reputable regulars. Realising she was not being taken in the same direction, the now concerned brawler squirmed once more in the irresistible grip. "Where you takin' me?"

"The boss wants ta see ya." When she turned to look up at the bouncer in surprise, he smirked, "Probably gonna ban ya for life."

Even the surprise at being taken to see the Anchor's notoriously elusive owner was not enough to prevent the last minutes' excitement from swiftly catching up, and Red was glad for the hand still holding her collar as treacherous knees went suddenly weak.

Feeling the stagger, the bouncer took a firmer grip on the collar and, pushing open a door with his shoulder, he half dragged, half carried the now sagging ruffian through and dropped her onto a threadbare old couch. "Wait here. The boss'll be along in a minute." Getting his first proper look at the battered face, he took momentary pity, "I'll get something for ya face," then left the investigator to her increasing misery.

Some twenty minutes later, and now with a sopping wet but thankfully cold cloth pressed gently over her throbbing face, she was beginning to wonder if Barney had been lying to her. She was just about to try summing up the energy to rise from her semi-recumbent slouch when the door opened once more and a small blonde-haired woman entered. Red glanced at the slight figure but, mentally dismissing it as of no importance, she returned to the internal debate on the wisdom of trying to move.

"So, you are the infamous Red 'The Wolf' Wolverton?" The woman's voice held annoyance tinged with amusement.

The wolf in question glanced up at the woman, a frown on her face. "Yeah, an' wha' of it?"

The woman's now distinctly amused look was disconcerting as she unashamedly examined the figure before her. She paused, a slight line appearing between the eyebrows as she frowned. "Barney didn't say you'd been cut?"

Now it was the investigator's turn to frown "Whaddaya mean?"

"Your side?"

Looking down, Red could now see the blood stain on her shirt that the small woman had obviously spotted. She'd been aware of the pain from her side but coping with the agony from her nose had been taking all her attention thus far. "Ah fuck," she grumbled in disgust, "he mutha bwoke my thitches as well, the cwazy thon-of-a-bitch." She lifted her shirt to reveal the newly blood stained dressing underneath.

"Here, let me help," and the small woman was at her side. "C'mon, out of those clothes so I can get at it properly."

With a shrug, the investigator peeled off overcoat, coat and vest before slipping the suspenders off her shoulders and raising the shirt as best she could.

The woman smiled slyly. "Hadn't figured you to be so modest, Wolverton?"

She stared at the young blonde for a surprised moment before, and not without further complaints from her side, pulled both shirt and undershirt over her head leaving her upper body in just the strapping over her chest and a blood stained bandage.

The woman was once more staring appraisingly at the near half-naked investigator, making her feel unexpectedly self-conscious. A small hand tugged gently at the bindings. "What's this for?"

Still inexplicably ill at ease, Red stammered. "Um, it juth' thtopth 'em jiggin' 'wound too much. Makth thingth eathier, like wunnin' an' thtuff."

The woman nodded. "Makes sense." Now all business, she deftly unwrapped the bandage and gently removed the dressing, making that dismayed hissing noise that the damage-prone investigator had become all too familiar with. Looking at the wound, she had to agree that it didn't look at all pleasant. The bruising from the rib had turned a sickly green, which contrasted unpleasantly with the red rawness of the reopened gouge and torn stitches. I'm gonna be in so much trouble, she thought; then annoyance at the anticipated lecture rose to the fore, ain't none of Evadne's business what I get up to on my own time. A gentle hand ran along her side under the still oozing wound.

"That doesn't look good. It really needs stitching again."

Nodding her reluctant agreement, the unhappiness at the thought of having to let a doctor near her again was clearly reflected in the unhappy scowl.

"If you want," the young woman started hesitantly, "I could do it for you? I have some skill in doctoring."

Looking thankfully at the young and, she hadn't failed to notice, attractive woman, Red quickly covered her relief with feigned nonchalance. "Yeah, sure, enjoy yourthelf."

Going over to a desk and opening one of the drawers, the woman withdrew a small box with a large red cross painted on the top. The investigator didn't miss the obvious familiarity with the room and suddenly remembering why she was here in the first place, she cast a worried glance at the door then turned to the woman who was now searching through the box. "Should you be here? I'm thuppothed to be waiting for the both, he ain't awived yet but I don't weckon he'th gonna be happy to thee you here."

The woman, threading the needle with care, seemed unconcerned "Don't worry on my behalf, the boss knows I'm here." The last comment seemed to cause her some amusement. With the needle now ready, she passed across a bottle. "I think you might need this."

With a thankful nod, the unhappy patient took a couple of good swigs of the surprisingly good quality whisky, then moved to lie down on her uninjured side to allow her unofficial doctor better access. Taking another fortifying swig, not only for the forthcoming pain but also for that already there, she asked. "Don' know your name? Don' let complete thwangers thitch me back togetha you know?"

The woman smiled. "Leona Harriman." She bent over the wound and, taking the bottle, poured some of the spirit over the wound. Passing the bottle back to the now pale woman who, impressively if stubbornly, hadn't uttered a single sound at what must have been some considerable additional pain, she added, "Though most people just call me 'boss."

Red didn't feel the first stitches, the combination of quickly downed whisky and surprise at the young woman's last words effectively numbing her to the tugging at her side. However it soon insinuated itself back into her awareness and by the time the gouge was re-sealed she'd finished the last of the bottle.

"All done. Can you sit up?"

"You meansch I ain't?" The now perversely cheerful investigator grinned in a glazed sort of way.

"Come on, tough guy." With this, the patient was helped to sit up somewhat unsteadily and a fresh bandage deftly applied.

"You'd make a good doc, bossch, an' schertainly a lot pwettier than mosch"

The young woman grinned to herself then added. "Please, call me Leona."

"Schure bossch… Leona." She was now a bottle of whisky, a broken nose and a fresh set of stitches out of her mind. "Leona'sch niesh name." Looking up into concerned grey eyes, she added. "Beaut'ful name fowa beaut'ful woman." Then the drunken investigator frowned in perplexed thought. "Heard it schomewheresch before." Scowling, she went to scratch her itching face only to cause a wave of pain as an uncoordinated hand bashed her broken nose. "Argh, fuck, fuck, fuck!" she cursed, cradling the battered appendage.

Leona gently removed the hands and examined her impromptu patient's misshapen nose. Grey eyes made contact with fuzzy blue-green ones. "I'm just going to try and straighten it, okay?"

Nodding, Red gritted her teeth against what even seven sheets to the wind she knew was coming. Eyes closed, she felt gentle fingers on her face, then excruciating pain as the now badly distorted nose was deftly straightened; however, it was the last straw on this overworked camel's back and, consciousness finally giving up under the combined assault of alcohol and pain, she fell into comforting and pain free blackness.

Evadne glanced up at the clock yet again. It was nearly midday and still no sign of the Wolverton Investigation Agency's senior partner. She'd already had to soothe one client's ruffled feathers at the non-appearance at a pre-arranged meeting. That had been some hours ago and still there was neither hide nor hair of the missing investigator.

The junior partner moved to look out of the window once more, subconsciously searching for the now familiar figure even as she wondered what had happened to the normally reliable Red. She'd been pleasantly surprised to find the younger woman had a strong work ethic, having seen the westerner turn up promptly at the office despite numerous hang-overs and a couple of fights. Never had she failed to turn up like this without letting her partner know, and to miss an appointment with a client was almost unthinkable. The more she considered these facts the more concerned she became. Should she go down to the dingy apartment and check to see if she was all right? If she did, would the surprisingly private woman be offended by the breach of privacy?

Returning to her desk, the socialite tried to concentrate on the excerpts from Mr. Miles' journals she'd identified as possibly relevant; however, her efforts were to no avail and, only some ten minutes later, she let out a frustrated sigh and moved once more to stare out the window. At the sound of steps outside the room, she turned in relief only to see a young boy of about nine or ten standing hesitantly in the doorway.

"You Mrs. Lannis?" he asked gruffly.

At her nod, he held out a neatly folded piece of paper. Quickly scanning the note, she moved to the new telephone, her contribution to the office, and called her own house.

"James? Could you please bring the automobile around to the office. Yes, straight away." Ringing off she looked at the boy. "The note says you can show me the way to this," she checked the note, "Fouled Anchor place?"

"Sure," he grinned, "I getta go inna auto?"

Nodding, the socialite smiled briefly at his childish enthusiasm. "Yes, you do. Sit down if you like." With this, she retook her seat and re-read the note while waiting for James to arrive:

Dear Mrs. Lannis,

I am writing this on Red's behalf, as she wanted to let you know where she is and that she is in safe hands. I'm afraid she developed an infection in the injury to her side and, although now over the worst, she has still not completely recovered. If you want to visit she is currently at my apartment at the Fouled Anchor (the boy can show you where).

Yours sincerely,

Leona Harriman (Miss)

Poor Red, sounds like she's in the wars again. I wonder how she ended up at such a disreputable sounding place? She gave a wry smile, Silly question, Evadne - this is Red we're talking about. She took another look at the signature. Another Leona? I've never met anyone else with that name before either, just goes to show what a small world it can be. The sound of a horn indicated James' arrival and she ushered the boy out of the office, locking it securely behind her, and then down to the waiting automobile. Having got the youngster seated gleefully in the front passenger seat, she instructed her unhappy chauffeur to follow his instructions; with a dubious shake of the head, he pulled carefully away from the sidewalk and began to drive in the direction indicated.

Some time later, after some interesting diversions when the boy's usual route turned out to be impassable for a vehicle, the Ford pulled up outside a large, faceless building in a disreputable part of the North End. The frown on James' face left no doubt that he was not happy with the situation but, after sending the boy on ahead, she assured him that she was armed, and wasn't going in completely unprepared. With an unhappy nod, he agreed to wait with 'Bessie', but not until he had promised that he would come looking for her if she didn't reappear within half an hour. With a fond squeeze of his arm, the socialite left her still frowning chauffeur and went over to where the boy was waiting for her, following him into an encouragingly clean hallway and up a set of stairs. Indicating the only door on the landing as the one she needed, the boy went to leave back past her: as he went past, she called to him. "Wait a moment." As he turned, she offered a coin.

"The boss has already paid me."

"You can still take this can't you?"

"Thanks," the boy grinned once more before taking the tip and disappearing down the stairs.

The smile at the boy's infectious grin faded as Evadne moved to the door and knocked on the painted wood.

"Who is it?" a woman's voice asked from inside.

"Mrs. Lannis."

The door opened a slit, safety chain visible across the gap, and she caught a glimpse of blonde hair and grey eyes before the door closed, then, after a faint rattling pause, it opened again, fully this time.

"Please come in, Mrs. Lannis." The small blonde woman invited.

With a nod, the socialite entered the neat apartment before turning back to her presumed hostess. "Miss Harriman, I presume?"

"Please, call me Leona," the younger woman smiled.

"And please call me Evadne." Pleasantries suitably dealt with, Evadne got on to the reason for her visit. "How is Red?"

"Come, see for yourself" and Leona led the way through a well-appointed sitting room to what, from the personal bits and pieces, had to be her own bedroom. The socialite felt a sudden twinge of embarrassment as her Brahmin sensibilities balked at the invasion of this unknown woman's privacy, but this was swiftly overtaken by her first sight of her friend. "Dear Lord, what happened to her face?"

"It had a disagreement with someone's fist." The younger woman seemed amused by the mess and Evadne gave her a sharp, disapproving glance before moving closer to study the swollen nose and impressive black eyes with a more professional eye. Taking in the sweat-drenched underclothes, she laid her hand on the damp but thankfully cool brow. Glancing back at the younger woman, who was now watching her with an interest that the older woman found uncomfortable, she commented. "Fever's broken I see." Then she lifted the undershirt to inspect the gouged side only to see a fresh bandage covering the area in question. "Would you mind if I checked the stitches?"

"Go ahead - though you'll find they've had to be redone."

"You actually got her to see a doctor?" The socialite asked in surprise before beginning gently to remove the bandage from the still oblivious patient - the unusually oblivious patient she thought, a frown appearing on her face. "Has she taken something?"

"Just some laudanum," at the concerned look, Leona added, "Only a little, just to help her sleep. She was in a lot of pain and I thought she'd had too much whisky already, it seemed a safer alternative."

Evadne continued to glare, not at all happy at the way her partner was being effectively kept in a drugged sleep, but she couldn't fault the woman's logic. As she uncovered the wound and admired the small neat stitches, she asked. "Did the doctor prescribe it?"

"She didn't see a doctor."

"But these…"

"I did them."

Surprise once more plain on her face, the socialite stared at the young woman. "Really?" then catching the disbelief in her own voice she stammered, embarrassed, "I'm sorry, I didn't expect…"

Leona smiled back, helping to ease the other woman's discomfort. "Most people don't."

After a brief, apologetic smile, she returned to the examination of the bullet wound more carefully. The signs of an infection were still there, the edges were red and puffy but the liquid leaking from one end was thankfully clear. I need to get her home, get this looked at properly. Gently replacing the bandage, she moved to where the small blonde still stood, then smiled. "Thank you for looking after Red, I'll take her off your hands now."

"No."

"Sorry?" The negative response stunned the socialite - she hadn't even considered that Miss Harriman would object to what she considered the obvious next move.

"She shouldn't be moved."

"Nonsense, she'll be much better off at my house."

"She's doing fine here."

"Oh yes, she looks really fine I must say!" The socialite snapped, irritated at this woman's refusal to let her take her friend away.

"Well perhaps you should consider what made her need to go out, get blind drunk and pick a fight with a man twice her size!"

Evadne started to respond then stopped, blinked, then stared in bafflement at the younger woman, "What the hell do you mean by that?" surprise leading her to use a word she usually only thought.

The woman gave her a hard look. "What do you think I mean?"

Sudden unexpected remorse flooded her - had she been smothering the westerner with her friendship? No, she thought, Red had only to say something, but she'd seemed more and more on edge over the last few weeks, was that in someway her fault? The small but never extinguished flame of guilt that flickered deep in the depths of her soul flared unnaturally bright as she looked at the battered face. I can't even let her drink in peace when she stays over. Moreover, I do nothing but carp about her clothes and her apartment when I expect there is not much she can do about them - especially the apartment. Yet she won't take anything from me except hospitality. Even then, she makes sure she does something to help, to repay me. I forget sometimes how lucky I am, how despite all my 'good deeds' I still live a privileged life few others ever experience. She looked at the younger woman, retreating but not defeated. "She is my friend, it is my duty."

"And she is my lover." The blonde-haired woman trumped.

"Your lover?" Since when? Evadne's common sense tried to argue only to be overwhelmed by the embarrassed, of course, her lover, I should have realised, I must… "I should leave," and she backed hurriedly out of the room. Reaching the front door, she turned back to Leona. "Tell her I came to see her and... and I hope she is better soon. And tell her I'll look after the agency until she is." Again! A sudden uncharitable thought escaped only be trampled by the rampant guilt, then the socialite was hurrying down the stairs towards the comforting presence of her ever reliable chauffeur.

She drifted back into wakefulness slowly. There was a throbbing in her head and an ache in her side but both seemed thankfully distant. Slowly opening her eyes, she peered up at an unfamiliar cornflower blue ceiling. So, not the hospital an' notta cell, that was a relief, but not my own room nor Evadne's house, so where the hell am I? Her mouth felt like something unpleasant had crawled in and died and her eyes seemed to be having difficulty focusing. She struggled up onto her elbows, triggering a more forceful complaint from the aching side. Looking blearily around, she saw she appeared to be in someone's bedroom, from the contents a woman's. How'd I get here - wherever here is? She frowned as she tried to remember: she'd gone to the Anchor, she could remember that, and there'd been the fight with the Irish idiot who'd broken her nose, which explained why her face hurt, but what after that? As she struggled to remember, the door of the room opened and a thankfully familiar figure entered. Red peeled her tongue from the floor of her mouth and croaked, "Leona?"

"Back in the land of the living I see?"

"Wha' happened?" Her personal inventory was now taking in the cold clamminess of her clothes and the unpleasant smell emanating from both them and her.

"You fainted when I straightened your nose. Then you developed a mild infection in your side. It seems to have cleared up now."

"How long have I been here?"

"Nearly two days."

With a frown, the investigator muttered, "I 'member Evadne's voice?"

The young woman nodded "You asked me to let her know where you were, don't you remember?

Carefully, she shook her head, still frowning.

"Well she came to see how you were. She said to get better soon and she'd take care of the agency." There was a slightly reproachful tone in the blonde's voice and for a moment it looked like she was going to say something more.

"And?"

"I don't know," the younger woman seemed embarrassed, "I thought she was your friend but she didn't seem very friendly"

"Whaddaya mean?"

"Well she said something like 'What on earth did you think you were doing, getting drunk and picking fights with people'."

"You didn' tell her I didn' start it?"

"I tried, but I didn't think she believed me?"

"An' that I wasn' drunk - at least not when the fight started?"

"Yes, I told her that too, with the same result."

"An' she's gone?" Disbelief at the reported comments was now plain in the investigator's voice.

"Yes, said I was doing a fine job of looking after you and should carry on doing so if I could put up with you and that she wanted nothing more to do with such self inflicted injuries."

Red lay back, stunned by what the socialite had said, her still fuzzy brain trying to make sense of the suddenly uncaring attitude but failing.

"Here, drink this, it'll help the pain."

Still confused at her partner and self-proclaimed friend's reported comments, she obediently drank down the sweet tasting liquid without thought.

"And this."

Now it was plain water and she gulped it thirstily, ridding her mouth of the resident corpse before lying back down and gently slipping into drug-assisted sleep once more.

The next time she woke, it was to the sound of insistent rumblings from her stomach. Struggling to sit up, she realised she was no longer alone in the large double bed. She blinked at the tousled blonde head, shit, mus' be the only bed, poor gal, then struggled up and went in search of the john as a full bladder made itself suddenly known. Finding the relevant room she was about to enter when an amused shout came from the bedroom.

"Take a shower while you're there, will you?"

Taking stock of the state she was in, Red could not help but agree. Having seen to the immediate priority, the distinctly noisome investigator took a much-needed shower: her enjoyment of the impressively powerful stream of hot water hampered only by the necessity to keep the stitches in her side dry. As she dried herself off with a large soft towel, she took the opportunity to examine the wound: it looked clean if still a little swollen, the infection apparently completely gone. A gentle knock on the door brought her attention away and she answered, "Yeah?"

"You okay in there?"

"Yeah, fine."

"Hungry?"

"You're kiddin' right?" she chuckled "Didn' you hear the starvin' monster jus' now."

There was a chuckle in return. "That'll be a 'yes' then. Your clothes are on the bed with some underwear that should fit," there was just the slightest of pauses, "if you want them."

Interestin'? An' she is a damn attractive woman, Red, you old wolf. An' I ain't since... well since before Jan… so, what the hell, we're both adults an' all.

There was, what must have been to the smaller woman, an overly large robe on the back of the bathroom door but which, when the investigator slipped it on, was a little on the short side for her. 'kay, let's see what happens now. Now clothed enough to prevent embarrassment if she was wrong, she ventured out in the direction of the cooking smells.

Leona glanced across as her guest-cum-patient entered the small kitchen area, smiling as she saw what the tall woman was wearing. "Very fetching," there was definitely an appreciative look in her eyes now, "if a little on the small side."

Red grinned back. "Covers all the relevant bits."

"Only just."

Okay, let's see what she's up to here. "Any objections?" the grin now turned distinctly roguish.

"None whatsoever," the small blonde smirked. "Now sit down and eat this, you need to get your strength back."

Oh boy, that was a feed line if ever I heard one. "Oh yes, what for?" she provided the suitably teasing response.

The answering look was brazen now. "I think we'll find something, don't you."

Evadne was surprised to hear singing from the office as she made her way up the stairs from the street. The fact that it was sung in a breathy light tenor and in some barely comprehensible cowboy patois - mostly about loosing cows or finding gals, or possibly the other way round - led her to the conclusion that the wayward senior partner had returned to the fold and was ungodly cheery with it. Looks like having a love life has cheered Red up - wonder where I can get one, she thought morosely. After Geoff's death, Evadne had never really seriously considered another relationship, but since being exposed to the westerner's - as her grandmother would have put it - decidedly wanton ways, she was finding such thoughts crossing her mind more and more frequently these days. If only I wasn't so choosy and most men such darned chauvinists, she thought with a rueful smile. Entering the office, she did indeed find a cheerful Red ensconced behind her desk reading the morning's edition of the Herald as normal. She looked up as the older woman entered, the grin fading slightly.

"Mornin'."

"Good morning. I hope you are fully recovered?"

"Yup, fit as a fiddle."

An unusually uncomfortable silence descended between the two women as Red returned to the newspaper and Evadne shed her hat and coat.

"Would you like a coffee?" the socialite asked as she went to make herself one.

"Yeah," Red looked up at the older woman a slight frown causing a crease between her eyebrows, "thanks"

"You're welcome." Evadne, correct as ever, responded.

Bringing over the coffee, she placed it by an elbow. "For a woman with two black eyes and a broken nose you seem unusually cheerful this morning," she teased.

Red looked sharply up at the comment, hearing it as confirmation of what Leona had reported rather than the gentle teasing it really was. "An' what of it?" she asked defensively.

Surprised at the reaction, Evadne back-pedalled quickly. "Why nothing."

Blue-green eyes met brown for a moment, both seeing emotions that weren't there: the westerner saw disapproval of her lifestyle; the socialite saw a chaffing at restriction.

Breaking the gaze first, Evadne moved to her own desk and retrieved the notes she had made. "I finished going though those journals. I think you'll find them interesting." The westerner gave a non-committal nod as Evadne placed them in front of her before beginning to read the careful, precise handwriting. The socialite hung back, caught by indecision: recently they had become so comfortable in each other's presence that one or the other would lean over or even on the other's shoulder to study such documents together, but today she felt the easy familiarity would be somehow wrong, and instead left the younger woman to her perusal in peace.

Glimpsing up from her reading, Red frowned as the older woman returned to her desk. Am I so distasteful to her now? With a sad look, she turned to the study of the neatly written notes.

Now seated at her desk, Evadne began finishing off the final account for the case she had picked up after Red had missed the initial meeting. Fortunately, she'd a slight acquaintance with the lady in question and had been able to diplomatically smooth over the ruffled feathers. The case itself had been simple enough: the elderly woman's pampered Pekinese had escaped its owner's house and the woman was desperate for her 'little Fifi' to be returned. It hadn't taken long for the socialite to track down the recalcitrant animal in one of the pounds, filthy and tired but bright eyed and madly bouncing. When it had been returned to its doting owner, the creature's attitude had changed, the ears had dropped, the eyes lost their sparkle and the energy had dissipated. Watching the naturally lively beast being smothered by love, she'd thought suddenly of her friend: was that how she felt when Evadne tried to 'improve' her? Was the socialite slowly stifling the life out of the unconventional westerner?

For the first time since making Evadne a partner, Red was glad to leave the office and its suddenly strained atmosphere: it seemed that, almost overnight, a barrier had risen between the two women. Yeah, right, an' we know whose fault it is. I ain't made any secret of the sort of person I am, an' if she can't cope with the reality of it then that's her problem not mine. Arriving back at Leona's apartment she let herself in with a shouted, "Jus' me, sweetheart."

"Through here," came the response from the kitchen.

Tossing her hat and coat over an easy chair, Red ambled in the direction of the voice. Entering the kitchen, she saw Leona sitting at the small table frowning over some paperwork. Coming up behind her, she placed her hands on the young woman's shoulders. Leona looked up at the touch and gave a warm smile, which changed into a frown at the unhappy look on her lover's face. "You okay?"

The concerned question produced a half-hearted smile, "Yeah, nothin' for you to worry about."

"But enough to bring you straight here?"

This time the smile was decidedly rakish, "Ah, but p'haps I'd other reasons for comin' straight here"

"Like what?" Leona teased.

"Like this." And Red bent over to catch the younger woman's lips in a gentle kiss that soon deepened into something much more passionate until, with a grin, Leona broke away to plead. "Not the kitchen table again please, my back still hasn't recovered."

"Whatever my lady desires." The petite blonde let out a small shriek of surprise as she found herself lifted out of her seat. As the westerner carried her small, but unexpectedly heavy prize, in the direction of the bedroom, a small shred of common sense broke through the overpowering libido to mentally wince, Damn these foolish romantic gestures of yours, you're gonna do yourself a permanent injury one of these days.

Red lay on her back staring once more at the cornflower blue ceiling. This time however, she had the comforting weight of Leona's blonde head resting against her shoulder, the unfashionably long tresses spread out in a halo across her right breast. The small figure shifted lightly in her sleep, the possessive arm around Red's stomach tightened briefly then relaxed back into gentle sleep. She fits so well, like we were meant to be together. As she mused over her good fortune not only in finding this impressive, beautiful young woman, but also in having her desires reciprocated, she played idly with the strands of pale gold. The younger woman's breathing changed, indicating she had woken up, and the encompassing arm trailed indulgently across the westerner's flat stomach before pausing at the circular scar above her belly button.

"What's this?" Leona's voice was curious.

"Got shot," Red responded briefly - she didn't want to go into the exact details of how it happened.

"And the one on your back?"

"Exit wound," she confirmed.

Instead of the obvious question that she expected the medically astute woman to ask, she instead felt Leona place an open hand over the scar on her stomach and the other worm its way under her back to lie over the star shaped one on her back. Looking down, she could just see that the younger woman had her eyes shut and a look of concentration on her face. The eyes suddenly shot open and turned to look in shock at the westerner. "You died but were bought back." It was a statement of fact not a question.

Red's face reflected equal shock, how on earth did she know that? Only she and Evadne knew everything that had happened in the warehouse that morning.

Again the look of concentration on the beautiful face, then she drew her hands away and sat up to look down seriously at her lover's still bruised face. "You were touched by the dark, my love, it has left a stain." Seeing Red's surprised, questioning look she continued. "I can feel it: I've always been able to feel where the supernatural has touched the mortal world." Now she frowned again, "but I have never been able to get such a strong impression, both of what happened and the power that touched you, still touches you." She looked carefully at Red. "Was Evadne touched as well?"

Staring in surprise at the question, she stammered. "I… I dunno. She was there but she weren't hurt, it didn' have to heal her." Her mind went back to what she could remember of the occasion. "She was near me when I was healed," Yeah, right, she was cryin' on your chest you great idiot, can't get much closer than that. She looked up at Leona, inexplicably wary about giving too much in the way of details. "I suppose she was. Why?"

The young woman looked serious, "The power used on you was used up in the healing: though it has left a stain it was used mostly to repair the flesh; but if such power had been turned on an undamaged body, what might it have done?"

Staring at the ceiling, a disturbing thought flickered across the westerner's mind. "You mean Evadne might've been… changed by it somehow?"

Leona snuggled down into the crook of Red's shoulder again, replacing the arm over her stomach. "Has she?"

"I dunno, I really didn' know her that well before hand, I'm not sure I woulda noticed unless there'd been a complete character shift"

"Unlikely: whatever the stories say, evil rarely looks so."

Hesitantly, Red spoke. "She does seem different though recently: ever since that Pater Hall business." Specially what she said about the self inflicted injuries: damn it all, she even helped me after I burnt down that damn hospital; why should a fight - an' it ain't the first of them I've gotten into either - cause her to react so an' leave me in a complete stranger's care. Her musings were halted as a small hand left its exploration of the muscled contours of her stomach and moved upwards to gently touch the small circle of white skin just over her heart.

"And this? It looks sort of like another bullet wound, was it healed in the same way?"

"Nah, that's just a birthmark," she gave a humourless chuckle, "Scared pa something rotten when I was born 'cause it was bright red - he claimed it was the devil's mark on me. I don't suppose that he was ever going to like me very much after that. It faded though, over…" her voice trailed off as the hand moved distractingly sideways.

Concluded in part two…

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