I love that we have this section now!

Here's a little piece I've been working on for a long time. Parts of it are posted elsewhere around the 'net, so if you have read it, please don't jump ahead of what's posted here...I feel like I have to say that after what happened to Penny's beautiful story...I'm so sorry about that.

Anyway, it's a sort of self-insertion Bobby fantasy with a decent crime attatched...If you don't like that sort of thing it might be best to pass this one by. You may notice I have rated my story M-MA...I will post the adult content on an more appropriate site with a link left here. Don't want to offend anyone or scar any minors for life! LOL

Please read and review. All you fanfic writers know how much we thrive on that sort of thing.

Can't...breathe...must...have...reviews...LOL


Chapter one follows, hope you enjoy it!


Title: Summer Daze
Author: karraselle
Genre: crime drama/romance (het)
Characters: Goren, Eames, Ross, and a cast of originals
rating: M - MA
Summary: New York, mid-July, the detectives of Major Case Squad must resolve the problems of: a series of jewelry store robberies, two murders, and one personal entanglement.
Warnings: Sexual situations, language
Disclaimer: I own neither the police drama concept nor the main characters. All publicly recognizable characters and places are the property of Universal Studios, NBC and Dick Wolf. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment purposes only and no infringement on any copyright is intended. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are the intellectual property of the author. Any references to actual persons, places, things, or ideas have been altered for reasons of privacy and/or for artistic purposes

Summer Daze


Chapter One:

Detective Robert Goren sat in the media room on the eleventh floor of One Police Plaza scanning hours of video tape from a variety of jewelry stores. He was investigating a series of small thefts that all seemed to have been carried out by the same individual. Together, the losses added up to more than two hundred thousand dollars.

A young woman would enter the shop with a display case during peak hours and attempt to sell her jewelry designs. While the owner and clerks were busy with customers, she would slip a few pieces into her pockets or purse and quietly leave the store. Although all of the shop owners had spoken with her, none were able to ID her. She never gave them a name.

Detective Alexandra Eames walked into the media room to join her partner, who sat astride an office chair engrossed in grainy black and white images.

“You get anything?” she asked.

“Our perp,” he replied, “watch this.”

He ran the tape back a bit and waited while Alex watched.

“Ink pens.” She muttered.

“And this,” he changed the tape and pressed play.

“Breath mints?”

“One more,” he added, changing the tape again.

“Post-it notes…What does a jewel thief want with those?”

“There are more just like that on every tape. She’s a kleptomaniac.” Bobby answered.

Alex had learned a long time ago not to question her partner in matters of mental illness. He knew his stuff.

Captain Danny Ross leaned into the doorway and tapped on the glass wall, “The 33rd has your perp.” He announced, “She’s dead.”

Eames and Goren rode through the streets of New York in their department SUV with the windows down.

“I can’t believe the AC’s broken.” Alex huffed, “What is it? A hundred degrees out there?

“One hundred one, according to that bank sign” her partner responded absently, barely looking up from his notebook as he pointed.

Eames wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand and grumbled, “The guys from the 33rd just had to find a body in a fish market dumpster on the hottest day of the year.”

“You know, Eames,” Goren said, “I was thinking I’d interview the witnesses and let you examine the scene on this one.”

“Not funny, Bobby.”

Eames brought the vehicle to a stop near a group of squad cars at the rear of the Fulton Fish Market. There was a shimmer of heat rising from the pavement and the stink was incredible. Together, they emerged from the SUV and approached the officer in charge. Alex unconsciously placed a hand over her nose as she watched her partner climb into the dumpster full of fish heads to get a look at the body.

Goren examined the corpse of a young woman, late twenties, with short blond hair and long bangs that had been fashioned into six pink and blue braids. An empty purse and display case containing a lone business card which read “E. Morgan Designs” lay nearby, half buried in fish entrails.

“She was strangled,” he stated in his usual matter of fact tone. “Probably,” there was a loud squelch as he shifted his weight, pulled the purse from the muck and compared the strap to the ligature marks, “Yes. With this.” He held it up for Eames to see and dropped it into a large evidence bag. He found a bluish, sticky mass next to the victim’s head and raised it toward his face.

“Oh, God. Don’t.” Alex blurted, too late.

Her partner sniffed at the gob and announced, “Blueberry gum.”

Eames turned away and made a sour face, “Where are the guys who found her?” she asked the young officer beside her, “I need to talk to them.”

“Over there, Ma’am” the rookie replied, pointing, “We asked them to wait for you.”

“Thanks.” Alex nodded and added over her shoulder as she walked away, “If he smells anything else, I don’t want to know.”

Back at their desks, Goren and Eames went over what they knew and waited for what they didn’t. They hoped they would be able to identify the dead girl from her fingerprints. A clerk walked by and dropped a report next to Alex.

“Got it.” She said leafing through the pages, “Esther Morgan, twenty-eight years old, East Village address, couple of dope pops and, surprise-surprise, a whole bunch of shoplifting arrests over the last twelve years.”

“Any convictions?” He asked, looking up from his notes.

Alex leafed back and forth through the report, “Only one, juvenile, eleven years ago, she got thirty days probation with mandatory psychiatric evaluation. Other than that, all the charges were dropped. Merchandise was returned or restitution paid.”

“Somebody’s been looking out for her.”

“Until she started bringing home the big ticket items.” Eames added.

“We need her psych file.” Bobby stated.

“I’ll order it. Until it comes in, we can check out her apartment and talk to the neighbors. Maybe she had a boyfriend.”

The small, clean but cluttered, studio apartment on Eighth Street offered few answers for the detectives. The kitchen table was scattered with jewelry making tools and materials. Dirty clothes were piled at the foot of the bed. Dishes mounded on the kitchen counters. Everything the girl owned seemed to be stacked up in plain sight. There was not one bill, notice, check, or even so much as a love letter anywhere. Bobby did find her “treasure chest”, a neatly stacked tower of pizza boxes in a corner of the den. Each one contained hundreds of ink pens, paper clips, mints, thumbtacks and a myriad of other small, inconsequential items she had stolen.

“Maybe the jewels are hidden somewhere else.” Eames suggested.

“No,” Bobby shook his head, “Kleptomaniacs’ compulsion to steal stems from feelings of guilt or tension, sometimes coupled with depression. The objects are either returned surreptiously, or kept and hidden in a specific location. The way that a pack rat will steal to line its nest.”

“This rat’s nest should have a two hundred thousand dollar lining.”

“Someone had to be taking advantage of her.” Bobby retorted, “Let’s talk to the neighbors.”

Goren and Eames made their way through the entire building, knocking on doors, asking the same questions over and over again, and having more than a few doors slammed in their faces.

“They aren’t going to talk to us.” Goren said after the fourth door was banged shut by a young person with crayola colored hair. “Punks get targeted by the police all the time. They don’t trust us.”

Of the neighbors who did speak with them, none of them knew much about the young lady in 12B. Just that she seemed nice enough and she made interesting jewelry. The superintendent was most helpful. He told them that the girl’s parents paid all of her bills, he’d never seen any sign of a boyfriend, and he thought she spent her weekends hanging out at a local punk bar called Maurice’s Tavern. He’d seen her outside the place more than once with a group of kids while on his way home from a night out.

A quick phone call confirmed that Maurice’s Tavern had live music every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday night. They were told to come early “because the place fills up fast.” Bobby and Alex made a date to play dress up the next night, called it a day, and went home.

Bobby as punk?? Yosh!

I was going to do goth and cosplay, so I can't wait to see how this goes.

You'll have to wait just a little bit longer Janx...in the meantime, here is chapter 2....




Thursday was a day in the office for the detectives. The medical examiner’s report was on Goren’s desk when he arrived, their interviews from the previous evening had to be written up for the report, the victim’s parents had to be interviewed, and the psychiatrist’s file arrived in the afternoon.

The medical examiner didn’t really say anything that Bobby didn’t already know. He helped Eames type up the neighbor’s statements and, together, they interviewed Mr. and Mrs. Morgan.

The parents were too distraught to be any help at all. They denied that their daughter had any sort of problem, even after they were confronted with her record. The psych file, however, taught Goren quite a lot about Esther Morgan.


“…Esther Morgan, a 17-year-old juvenile, was referred for psychiatric evaluation by the criminal court judge. Esther has been placed on probation by the juvenile court. She deposited cash payments made to the establishment for which she worked into her own account.

Esther was accompanied to the psychiatric interview by her mother, a well-dressed, upper-middle-class matron who provided additional, and often contradictory, information to that given by Esther.

Esther has been repeatedly apprehended for shoplifting and has, on several occasions, ‘borrowed’ the credit cards of her mother and father, charging thousands of dollars for clothing, jewelry, food, and cosmetics. As a child and young adolescent, Esther had frequently stolen money from her father’s wallet and her mother’s purse. Teachers at school had learned that if anything was missing, Esther’s desk or locker was the first place to look. When Esther was apprehended, her mother would make plausible excuses for Esther and then pay for whatever loss she had caused. Everyone, including Esther, agreed that she had no need to steal. Her mother was indulgent and provided her with essentially anything she wanted.

Esther continued, however, to steal and lie repeatedly. Esther lied about everything, how much money her father earned, how many boyfriends were pursuing her, and how well she was doing at school. When caught stealing, she inevitably had a reasonable excuse for why she had something that did not belong to her. To further complicate her story, Esther also secretly engaged in bulimia and would, once or twice a week, binge and induce vomiting.

From this psychiatrist’s viewpoint, the information about Esther’s family was very revealing. Her father is described as a successful surgeon whose compulsive gambling led to repeated financial crises that had been kept secret from the children. He is also described by the mother as a ‘pathological liar’ who skillfully covers his absences from the hospital and office with plausible excuses so that he can see his bookie. His father, Esther’s paternal grandfather, was an alcoholic. So was Esther’s maternal grandfather.

The overriding dynamic in Esther’s family is the attention provided to her older brother, a minor league baseball player. Almost all family activities throughout her childhood have centered on this brother and his athletic accomplishments. Her father may not have been able to take time from his busy medical practice to attend Esther’s piano recitals, but he never missed a Little League or high school baseball game. Esther’s mother dotes on the young man, indulges him, and has rescued him from his past minor misdemeanors.

Esther was referred for psychological testing that revealed mild dyslexia, in addition to the underlying depression and mixed impulse control disorder: kleptomania, bulimia, and compulsive lying. Once again, with the behind-the-scenes interventions of her mother, the judge ordered a brief period of probation and mandated psychiatric treatment. Esther canceled the first appointment that was scheduled after the end of her probation and never returned for further treatment…”

Okay, Janx, here's the part you wanted to see...

I going to put a warning here in case I miss something in the edit...

WARNING!! STRONG LANGUAGE!!!

I've noticed in other stories that we seem to be going with the "edited for television" version of censorship as opposed to using asterisks...which is fine with me. It may make my story a whole lot funnier!

As always, I'm going to beg for reviews...(please, please, please)...Like all novice writers, I am in such need of validation! Thanks, gang!




Alex Eames pulled her car to the curb in front of her partner’s apartment building and waited. She looked into the rearview mirror applied a smear of dark burgundy lipstick. She turned as the passenger door opened and watched Bobby fold himself into the shotgun seat of the compact car.

“Hey,” she greeted him, “Wow…you look…um…”

“I know.” Goren answered turning the mirror to look at himself and running a hand through his graying curls. “Do you think one of your nieces or nephews might have some of that colored hairspray left over from Halloween?”

Eames shook her head and stated flatly, “I don’t think it would make any difference, Bobby, you’re still going to look like the creepy old guy at the bar.”

Bobby looked at his partner with a half-smile, “Ouch.”

“I’m sorry,” she responded, “It’s just, these people are kids and…”

“I know.” He interrupted, “You’re right. That’s the angle I’ll play.”

“So, we’ll separate.” She agreed, “You go in first. I’ll park the car and come in a few minutes later.”

With a plan of action in place, Eames pulled the car into traffic and headed for the East Village to join the American Counterculture.

Maurice’s Tavern was very simple compared to other bars in the city. A long bar stretched the length of one wall, bare concrete floors, Formica topped tables with stackable vinyl cushioned chairs, and walls papered with flyers for the hundreds of bands that had performed there throughout the years. There was a stage at the back with a dance floor/mosh pit in front of it surrounded by padded railing.

It was nine o’clock, and the place was already swarming with exotic-looking kids in their twenties. The band, a group called Succubus Blush, was just starting their first set. Goren made his way to a table on the far side of the mosh pit and ordered a beer.

Bobby usually liked going undercover, but here in this bar…This punk haven filled with young people covered in tattoos and body piercing…He felt out of place. He was surprised, however, to find that he enjoyed the music.

Succubus Blush; a band consisting of four bare-chested-tattoo-sporting-nipple-pierced young men and a girl with multi-colored pigtails, was playing hard rocking covers of old songs he’d loved as a kid. Their banter was amusing, the way the petite female singer kept announcing to the crowd how much she hated the mountain of a drummer and threatening him with all manner of violent acts.

During an interesting rendition of “Louie, Louie”, the bassist pushed her off the front of the stage into the mosh pit. Bobby was about to jump to her rescue when he saw her come up swinging and proceed to butt-stomp her way back to the stage, all without missing a single note in the song. Back onstage and still singing, she marched up to the bassist and kicked him in the shin. Goren had to laugh. The act was so little-girlish, made more so by her pigtails and plaid schoolgirl skirt. However, with the knee high combat style boots she was wearing, the kick looked pretty painful. The bassist’s staccato shriek confirmed his suspicion.

Bobby scanned the crowd, looking for his partner. Eames looked good. It was an amazing transformation. Her hair hanging limply from her scalp, torn t-shirt, tight black pants, and too much eyeliner…She didn’t look much older than the kids around her at the bar. She fit right in. Bobby, on the other hand; even in his ripped jeans and Ramones t-shirt; stuck out like a sore thumb. He watched as Eames showed Esther Morgan’s business card to a couple and hoped she would have better luck getting the information they needed. Even though the band had stopped playing and people had begun to mingle, the local patrons were avoiding him like the plague.

“So, what’s it like being a cop?”

The melodic voice at his shoulder startled him from his reverie. He turned to see the girl from the band smiling at him.

“What?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

“Oh! Come on!” the girl laughed in reply and flopped into the chair next to him, “Look at you…everything about you reeks of bacon!”

He got made. He knew it was inevitable and he might as well use it to his advantage.

“Does that make you nervous?” He cocked an eyebrow at her and put a little menace into his voice, hoping that he sounded suitably tough and unyielding to fit a punk girl’s perceptions of the NYPD without scaring her off. Astonishingly, she laughed even harder.

“Is it supposed to?” she challenged, her green eyes sparkling.

“You got any warrants?” he threatened.

Bobby expected her to curse or spit at him for the remark, but the look on her face when he said it told him he was about to receive more humor-laced impertinence.

Before she could give her retort, the guitarist interrupted the conversation by banging on the table and shouting good naturedly.

“Break’s over, pig-frack, let’s get back to work.”

The girl rose to follow him and turned back to Bobby with a smart-aleck grin, “Summer Davis, license number 2027543, look it up.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the impudence of the unexpected young lady as he watched her flounce away. He didn’t know if there would be any connection to his case, but it was the only information he’d managed to gather. So, he jotted her name and license information on a napkin and stuffed it in his pocket.

He almost made it through the next set before the beer he’d been nursing made its way through his kidneys. As he emerged from the men’s room he felt a hand grasp his arm and turned sharply.

“Hey,” his partner whispered loudly, “Everyone here has you made.”

“I know.” He replied dismally.

“Well, they haven’t connected us yet. I think it’s better if we split up. I’ve got a group of them ready to go out for waffles after the show. Can you get yourself home?” Eames asked, constantly scanning the area to make sure no one saw them together.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” He answered, “Have a good time.”

Alex threw a dirty look at him over her shoulder as she walked away, “Ha-ha.”

Bobby returned to his table and ordered another beer. Alone in a crowd, as usual, he listened to the music, sipped his beer, and hoped Eames was finding something, anything that would give them a solid lead.

The band wrapped up their final set with the most violent interpretation of “Dance to the Music” by Sly and the Family Stone that Goren had ever witnessed. It began with the girl, Summer, ordering the crowd to the dance floor.

“Get on up and dance to the music…I SAID, Get on up and dance to the frackin’ music!”

Followed by the entire band singing a modified chorus, “Dance to the music. Slam-dance to the frackin’ music.”

Then, similar to the original song, there was an exchange in which they introduced each other and their various instruments.

Summer yelled, “Hey, Andrew!”

“WHAT?!?” The drummer screamed so fiercely that Bobby thought he might jump over the drum kit and rip her face off.

Summer sang, “All we need is a drummer, who only likes to beat his meat.”

Andrew started a lively rhythm and the bassist sang out, “Jarv’s gonna add a little guitar to make it easy to move your feet.”

The guitarist played his solo and added, “Kai’s gonna add some bottom, so the dancers just won’t hide.”

A solid bass riff began and the, as yet unnamed, keyboardist jumped in with, “You might wanna sit on my organ…Uh-huh, ride Sally ride!”

“You might like to see this witch blow…Summer on my horn, yeah!” the drummer shouted tunefully.

There was no trumpet, or brass instrument of any kind on the stage and Summer had a look of pure malice as she grabbed a beer bottle from the edge of the stage and hurled it toward his head.

Meanwhile, the rest of the band continued into the chorus. “Dance to the music. Mosh to the frackin’ music!”

Summer jumped about onstage as they continued to sing, introducing a large number of instruments that didn’t actually appear either in the original song or on the stage. About halfway through the verse, she bumped into Kai, the bassist, who was caught off balance and crashed into the keyboard, knocking it to the floor. The keyboardist punched him in the face.

“Geezus, Johnny!” Kai screeched, “She did it.” He reached out and smacked Summer.

The guitarist, Jarv, threw down his Fender and tackled the bassist. “Never hit my sister!” he screamed, and the brawl was on.

Bobby considered breaking it up, but the crowd was cheering and the bartender and wait-staff seemed completely unconcerned. He decided it would be best not to get involved. The drummer played a fifteen minute solo while his band mates beat the slop out of each other, shook hands, made up, and began taking down the equipment. When the stage was empty of all but the drum kit, Andrew stopped mid-beat, stood up and shouted, ‘Thank you! Goodnight!”

From the reaction of the patrons, Bobby deduced that this must be the way the band always finished their show. The bartender announced last call and he decided to have one more drink before heading home. While he was paying the waiter, the singer reappeared at his side, grabbed his beer and took a huge swallow.

“Get him another, Toby.” She instructed the waiter.

Bobby looked at her for a second, considering how to respond. His cop routine had done nothing to gain him access to any real case-related information. He finally decided to match her playful approach.

“If you wanted me to buy you a drink…” he began with a smile.

Her musical laughter delighted his ears as she again took up a chair next to his. “Mine are free. Toby’ll be back in a minute.”

They waited in silence for the waiter to return. He couldn’t understand why, but he suddenly felt like a tongue-tied high school kid sitting next to this bold young woman who was so casually drinking his beer. Sure, she was pretty in an unconventional way and funny, and there was something appealing in her flippant personality. That she was flirting with him was not in question.

‘But she’s just a kid.’ He criticized himself silently for even considering the possibility.

Toby returned with a fresh beer and Bobby tipped him for his trouble.

Summer heaved a sigh; she couldn’t understand why he didn’t just ask her, already. He wasn’t here to watch drug traffic, Maurice kept the place clean. There was only one reason a cop, even a good-looking one with a Ramones t-shirt, would sit there through the entire show without hassling anybody or making an arrest.

“So, you’re here to find out who killed Star, right?” she finally blurted.

Bobby was taken aback, “Um…Star?”

“Esther Morgan…we called her Star.”

“Of course,” he nodded, flipping the encyclopedia in his brain to the page on names, “Esther is Hebrew for star…”

Summer smiled, clearly impressed. “That’s right.”

Goren’s mind immediately switched modes from thinking about how to respond to sassy, flirtatious, pretty punk singers without sounding awkward, old, or ridiculous to the open case on his desk, “How did you know Star?”

Summer jumped out of her seat, “Chug that down,” she said, indicating his beer bottle, “I’ll get my gear.”

“What?” Bobby was usually very good at reading people, but this chick was all over the map.

“They’re closing up.” She explained, “There’s an after-hours place just down the block. You can buy me that drink and we’ll talk.”


Summer Davis turned out to be a fountain of information. But that information came at a price. Summer liked to drink after a show and she expected the detective to drink with her. When the barmaid arrived to take their order he asked her to bring “Whatever the lady would like.”

“Whaler’s and diet” Summer gave her order and asked, “What about you?”

“No,” Bobby shook his head politely, “I…”

“Bullsnot.” She interrupted, “What are you, some kind of lightweight?...A big guy like you?”

He couldn’t help blushing at the implied compliment in her voice, “Uh…Well…I, um, I’m…”

She rolled her eyes and said, “Don’t give me some crop about being on duty. You were drinking at Maurice’s.”

“I-I know…it’s just…now” he was getting angry with himself for struggling with his words. ‘She’s just a little girl, why can’t I figure her out?’ he thought.

“Never mind.” Summer huffed and started to rise.

“Wait.” Bobby said sharply, “Okay…” he turned to the waiting barmaid, “Scotch and soda, please.”

Bobby’s massive intellect could not conceive how someone so tiny could drink so much. He was having trouble keeping up with her. He tried to write everything down, but his vision was beginning to get blurry from the late hour and too much alcohol. Not to mention that her resistance to the idea of sticking to one subject had him considering the possibility that she may be bi-polar. The rowdiness of her band mates at a nearby table was not helping his concentration, either.

Goren ordered drink after drink while Summer wound her way through endless changes of subject and emotion. One moment she would talk about her friend, Star, with misty tears that glistened in impossibly green eyes but never fell. The next, she would be laughing; flirting and teasing him about his cop-like behavior. An instant later, she would be shouting angry threats and obscenities at her band mates.

Every time she started to speak, they would scream “pig-frack” and laugh like lunatics. Finally, Summer had enough. She excused herself and walked over to their table. She kicked the keyboardist; Johnny Napalm Bobby had learned his stage name was; to the floor, chair and all. While the young man picked himself up, she made some very specific, violently obscene threats to the group. That was the last thing Bobby knew.

It's good! I like it! You play Guitar Hero!

But QUIT READING MY MIND!

I've had my little Elegant Gothic grrl running around with Bobby in my head for weeks now, and your Summer is so much like my Althea... Even has green eyes. Pretty much just different scenes and Althea has lots of issues. Drinks like a demon and cusses like a sailor and will stomp your butt into the ground for whatever.

As for the censorship, I plan on posting my current story on fanfiction.net in it's original form because Zillah curses for everything. And she's unhappy I'm not writing her lines the way she's saying them in my head.

LOL...Thanks! I do play Guitar Hero (I own all four versions) I was wondering when someone was going to point that out!

I'm really not reading your mind...Summer's been around since last winter and your Althea does sound similar I'll bet they would be best friends if they ever met...well, and got over the fact that they're both after the same hunky detective...LOL on second thought, they'd probably kill each other before a relationship could develop!

I hear what your saying about the censorship...Summer Daze is posted on fanfiction.net through chapter eleven. I am actually nearing the end, just two or three more chapters to go.

Thanks again for your kind words...hearing what folks think really helps me stay inspired enough to finish!

good so far.

Detective Goren woke with a pounding in his skull and was horrified when he opened his eyes. His face was tingling and it seemed as if he was looking at the world through a purple, red, and black veil. He braced his hands on the mattress and tried to sit up slowly. That’s when he realized he was not alone in his bed.

A naked young woman was curled up beside him. Her long, multi-colored hair had been strewn across his face. Bobby let out a sigh of relief and tried to remember what happened the night before.

It wasn’t everyday that he woke up with a strange woman in his bed. It wasn’t very often that he woke up with a woman he was acquainted with, either. One night stands simply weren’t Robert Goren’s style.

He had to wonder why. Was there something special about this girl? It wasn’t that she was attractive. Physical beauty he could resist. Had she shown him something about herself that he found truly irresistible? Did she have a good heart? A brilliant mind? Or…

“Please, God, no.” he whispered aloud to himself. Was he turning into his father?

He stumbled to the bathroom, took a couple of aspirin, showered, dressed, and tried to remember her name. There was a moment of panic when she rolled over in her sleep and he was afraid she would wake up. More than anything, he did not want to face her without knowing her name.

“Who are you?” he whispered fervently.

He walked to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. He dug in the refrigerator for some fruit and munched an apple while considering how he could gracefully wake the young lady and ask her to leave without using a name he couldn’t remember.

He scanned the apartment for clues to her identity. There was a guitar case leaning against the wall next to the front door. His motorcycle boots stood sentry in front of it. Most of his books that lined the shelves in his living room were scattered on the floor. His Ramones t-shirt was turned wrong side out and dangled crazily from a rail on his treadmill. A single history tome lay open on the coffee table.

He picked it up and read, “Saraswati-Hindu Goddess of Rivers, Art, and Music. The Goddess Saraswati is often depicted as a beautiful, olive-skinned woman with green or golden eyes and dressed in pure white, often seated on a white lotus (although Her actual vahana, or mount, is believed to be a swan), which symbolizes that she is founded in the experience of the Absolute Truth. Thus, she not only has the knowledge but also the experience of the Highest Reality. She is mainly associated with the color white, which signifies the purity of true knowledge.

A white swan is often located next to her feet. The sacred swan, if offered a mixture of milk and water, is said to be able to drink the milk alone. The swan thus symbolizes discrimination between the good and the bad or the eternal and the fleeting Due to her association with the swan; Goddess Saraswati is also referred to as Hamsa-vahini, which means ‘she who has a swan as her vehicle’.

She is usually depicted near a flowing river, which may be related to her early history as a water goddess. The swan and her association with the lotus flower also point to her ancient origin.
Sometimes a peacock is shown beside the goddess. The peacock represents arrogance and pride over its beauty, and by having a peacock as her mount, the Goddess teaches Hindus not to be concerned with traditional beauty and to be wise regarding the eternal truth.”

Obviously the guitar belonged to the girl in his bed and that must have inspired him to look up that particular article. He began placing his books back on their shelves and noticed a balled up cocktail napkin next to the phone. He smoothed it out and found the name Summer Davis followed by a license number.

It was starting to come back to him now. Going undercover with Eames, the bar, lots of drinking, the interview…‘Oh God, she’s a witness’ the thought struck him with horror. A tune played over and over at the fringes of his memory. He couldn’t place it; maybe it was something the band had played. The band! She was a singer.

“What have I done?” He asked himself.

He walked back to the bedroom and found her standing by the bed, stretching.

“Um, Good morning, uh, Summer.” He smiled nervously.

“Morning.” She smiled back brightly, tossing her bed rumpled hair, “Mind if I shower?”

Bobby marveled at her complacency, standing completely naked in a stranger’s bedroom. He didn’t think he’d ever been so uncomfortable standing fully dressed in his own. She really was a lovely creature.

“Uh…Not at all,” he stammered, trying to force himself to keep his eyes averted, “I-I do have to…um… go to work soon…”

“I’ll be quick.” She replied and scurried toward the bathroom, “Oh, say…” she called, causing him to turn toward her.

“Yes?” he answered, turning his gaze away quickly.

“Do you have some clothes I could borrow?”

He peeked at her tiny frame, blushed, and chuckled, “Nothing that’s going to fit.”

“I don’t care. It’s just that putting on the clothes you were wearing the night before on the morning after…Kinda makes a girl feel like the whore of Babylon.”

“Oh.” Her matter of fact statement defied argument. There was definitely something refreshing in her straight forward manner. “Um, There are some t-shirts in the dresser…H-Help yourself,” he offered.

As he went about gathering his things for work he silently berated himself. ‘What’s wrong with you, Goren...She’s too young…You’re too old…She’s involved in your murder investigation for Christ’s sake…’

He sat at the kitchen table with his notebook and a mound of scrawled upon cocktail napkins, trying to decipher his own drunken handwriting. Slowly, he was shaking the feelings of disgust he had with his own behavior and the feelings of attraction he was experiencing for Summer. As he wrote, he began to recall all the bits of information Ms. Davis had revealed.

The victim had been married to Kai Hameltt, the bassist in Succubus Blush, for seven years until their divorce three years ago. The divorce had been amiable and the couple remained good friends. It was believed that Star had a girlfriend but no one had ever seen her.

“Thanks, I feel much better.”

Bobby looked up at his guest and tried to suppress a grin. She wore her knee high combat boots and had used her belt to cinch a plain black t-shirt loosely at her hips like a dress. Her wet hair was combed and streaming down her back. If it weren’t for certain obvious endowments, she would have looked exactly like a preschooler playing dress up.

“You’re, uh, welcome.” He replied, “There’s coffee, if you want some.”

“Please.” She nodded, taking a seat at the table.

He got up and fetched a mug from the cupboard, “I-I’d offer you breakfast…”

“That’s okay,” she interrupted, “I have to get to work, myself.”

“Cream or sugar?”

“Black.”

Bobby set the steaming mug in front of her and reached for his wallet, “Here’s my card,” he said, deftly extracting one and holding it out to her. “You can call me if you think of anything else to tell me about Ms. Morgan.” He steered the conversation to the business of his case. He was much more comfortable ‘on the job’.

Summer accepted the card and looked at it sadly for a moment, remembering Star. Then she broke into a grin and quipped, “I thought you were the one that was supposed to call me.”

Time to face the inevitable. He took a deep breath, looked at her earnestly, and spoke in his most professional voice, “Look, Ms. Davis…”

“Ms. Davis?!?” she looked at him as if he were crazy.

“Alright, S-Summer…” he continued, “I owe you an apology. Um…Last night wasn’t supposed to happen. It was, uh, highly u-unprofessional of me…”

“I’ll say.” She grinned at him.

“I’m serious.” He stated firmly, “I’m investigating your friend’s murder. Getting in-involved with you is un…ethical. That aside,” he paused and let out a quiet sigh, “You’re young and …”

She burst out laughing. She laughed so hard tears ran down her cheeks. “Not that young.” She gasped between her gales of laughter.

Bobby looked confused, “What’s so funny?”

She took a moment to regain control of herself before she answered, “We had the same conversation last night…You don’t remember.” She began to giggle again.

“You’re right. I don’t…I was…um…very drunk.”

“I know.” She replied mirthfully, “You called me a Goddess…You know, I thought it was the most ludicrous line I’d ever heard until you tore the place up looking for that book. You read me a whole bunch of stuff about a Hindu Goddess of music.”

“Saraswati.” He informed her quietly.

“Yeah, that was it.” She smiled sweetly, “How could a girl resist after that?”

“I- I’m sorry.” He replied miserably, “I shouldn’t have taken advantage…”

“You didn’t” she giggled, “I mean; you did, but not right away. You kept stopping and arguing with yourself. It was cute. You finally had to call in my license before you’d sleep with me.”

“I did?” He couldn’t believe his own behavior was such a mystery.

“Yes.” She mouthed the word as she nodded, hilarity taking control of her once more, “Check your fax machine…”

Bobby shook his head as if to clear it, “That’s not the point. You are involved in a case…”

“No!” she said emphatically, a wicked grin playing across her mouth. “You said, for the record, and I quote, ‘To hell with Ross. I’ll love you forever if you promise to keep doing that.’ I kept my end of the bargain…Who’s Ross?”

“My Captain…W-What was th..at?” Bobby wasn’t really sure he wanted to know.

Summer leaned forward until she was barely an inch from his face before she was able to catch his eyes. “Don’t worry, detective. You had a great time,” she whispered. Then she quickly brushed her lips against his cheek and announced, “I’ve really got to get to work.” She jumped up, grabbed her bundle of clothes and her guitar case, and opened the door, “I’ll call you and set up something to get your shirt back to you.”

The words leapt out of Bobby’s mouth before he could stop them, “You can bring it by whenever you want.”

She smiled and dropped him a wink. Then the door closed and she was gone. Bobby felt like a cooling but disruptive whirlwind had just blown through the apartment, leaving him refreshed and bewildered. He genuinely liked her. She seemed bright, lovely, talented, and most of all, honest. So few women could experience his endless quest for knowledge and still seem interested. For the first time in his career, Robert Goren cursed the job. The thought was fleeting, however, and he quickly reverted to kicking himself.

He went to the fax and picked up the lone piece of paper. He glanced at her stats and placed it in his notebook.

“Thirty-five” he muttered as he grabbed his keys, “she sure doesn’t look it.”

that waz awesome but i want more! dammnit! i knida had the same idea, but with a schizo girl in her early twenties and she's found alive wrapped n duct tape. but i looove the punker grrl character.

Great minds think alike... Poor Thea...

Rule 21 FTL...

21 - There is no chance your great fanfic idea has NOT been done before. Probably more than once.

I'm so glad you're enjoying it, Agent G Z...your wish is my command...LOL

Hey, Janx, write it anyway...it's cathartic...and I'm curious about Althea!



Okay, as before, a strong language warning for this chapter just in case I miss something in the edit...




Detective Alexandra Eames was sitting at her desk going over her notes from the previous evening’s interviews when her partner arrived.

“Good morning.” He greeted her as he sat at the desk facing hers.

“Hi.” She replied.

“Did you get anything useful?” He asked, indicating her notes.

“A few names,” she stifled a yawn, “not much for being out till 3a.m…How about you? I saw you talking to that singer as I was leaving. Did you pump her for information?”

“Yes,” Bobby answered a little too quickly, willing himself not to blush at his partner’s choice of words. “She was a friend of the victim. Star, by the way.”

“Yeah, I got that from the kids I was talking to.” Eames put in, “No boyfriend, she was a lesbian.”

“Although she was married,” Goren nodded.

“Right,” Alex looked at her notes, “to the bassist in the band that was playing last night.”

Her partner checked his own notes, “Kai Hamlett. The band is called Succubus Blush. Star was friends with her ex-husband as well as the other band members. Did you get a name on her girlfriend? Summer…uh…Summer Davis…the singer…said she had one but didn’t know a name.”

“No.” Alex said slowly as she flipped through the pages in front of her, “All I got was that they thought her girlfriend worked a Macy’s. Sounds like we need to talk to the boys in the band…”

“Let’s run their names through the computer. They seemed…resistant…last night. If they have warrants, it might help them open up.” Bobby suggested.

Eames nodded and turned to her computer.

“I already have the stats on Ms. Davis.” Goren said, handing her the single faxed sheet from his notebook, “She’s clean, not even so much as a parking ticket.”

“Well, you’ve already talked to her.” Alex stated, “What about the others? Names?”

He pawed through his notes and called them out to his partner. One by one she brought up the files on her monitor. “Jerry Karma Vishnu Davis, aka Jarv…”

“Jerry Karma Vishnu?” Eames laughed.

Bobby nodded, “Ms. Davis’ brother. She said their parents were hippies…”

“You think?” she grinned as her nimble fingers flew over the keyboard, “Here we go…one juvenile arrest for vandalism…and, more currently…a warning on a 417…”

“Brandishing a weapon.” Her partner stated.

“Yeah,” she replied, “No outstanding warrants, though…Next?”

“Baruch Kai Hamlett goes by Kai…” he read.

“Baruch?”

“It’s a German name.” he answered.

“Okay…Numerous arrests for public indecency, public intoxication, vandalism…There! A VC 10852 warrant…vandalism to a vehicle…Let’s see…” with a few clicks she opened the case file, “Gross.”

“What?” Bobby asked.

“They’ve got him on video taking a dump on somebody’s dashboard.”

“Uh…Let’s move on…” he recommended, “Andrew McKown”

Alex made a face at the screen and turned to him, eyebrows raised, “I have four…”

Bobby thanked God that his alcoholic haze was lifting as he closed his eyes and tried to picture the drummer, “White male…long brown hair…late twenties…approximately 6’6”…bulky…I’ll say around 300 pounds.”

“Hmmm…This looks close…” she turned her monitor so her partner could get a better look, “That him?”

“Yes.” He leaned closer and read, “harassing phone calls…hit and run…one misdemeanor DUI…” he glanced at his notes and gave her the last name, “How about Jonathan Newsom, aka Johnny Napalm.”

She typed in the name, made a disgusted noise and rolled her eyes, “Forty-six.”

“Try just the East Village addresses…”

“Okay…Nine.”

“He’s young.” Bobby said, visualizing the keyboardist, “Maybe early twenties…short stature, slight build…bright blue spiked hair.”

“No blue hair, but here’s a nineteen year old…rest of the physical fits…Jodie Lane Place address…What do you think?”

Goren got up and walked around the desks to stare at the picture on Eames’ computer, “Similar…I can’t be sure…The address seems right…It’s within a few blocks of the others...If there are warrants it’ll be worth a try.”

Alex scrolled down and found a single outstanding warrant for vandalism. She called the warrants in and while the detectives waited for the hard copies to arrive they continued transcribing and comparing their notes.

It must have been a busy day in clerical because they didn’t receive the warrant papers until sometime past two o’clock. After a brief discussion, they decided to head for the Saint Mark’s address first since the apartment was inhabited by three of the band members, Jarv, Kai, and Summer.

Jerry Karma Vishnu Davis, Jarv to his friends, smiled when he saw his friend Johnny standing among the crowd in Union Square that was listening to him sing. He finished the song with a flourish and thanked his small audience.

‘Hey, Napalm, How’s it going?” he said as he gathered the bills and coins from his open guitar case and replaced them with the instrument.

“Good, man…How’d you do?” his young friend replied.

“Not bad…Looks like more than a hundred…” the tall man with the Elvis hair-do responded, shoving the money into his pocket, “I LOVE tourist season…”

The friends chatted amiably and walked together to Washington Square Park. As they approached the entrance they could see a throng of people jostling for position and heard them gasp in horror and delight. They managed to shove their way in and get a good look just as their buddy Kai was performing his grand finale. They cheered wildly when the last two inches of a three foot broadsword entered his mouth.

Kai slowly removed the weapon from his esophagus, bowed and thanked the amazed crowd. Jarv and Johnny approached as he piled his various swords and fire sticks into an old keyboard case. He dumped the dirty water from a collapsible bucket and tossed it on top of his other tools before closing the battered black box.

“Hey” he nodded to his band mates, “Johnny? What’s up with your hair?”

The boy grinned, his bright blue hair framing his face like a bad Beatles cut. “The Liberty Spikes came unraveled. You think you could help me shape it again?”

“Yeah.” Kai answered, picking up his case and a small cage containing a medium-sized green snake, “This time we’ll use Superglue instead of Elmer’s.”

The trio started the trek to Tompkins Square Park and talked about street performing, tourist money, and how Johnny’s Mom was doing along the way. They found Summer far from her usual spot, perched on the back of a park bench strumming her acoustic guitar and singing a sweet ballad as though she actually enjoyed it. The scattered group around her clapped and a couple of them tossed money into the open guitar case at her feet. She smiled and thanked those who paid and acknowledged her friends.

“Hi Jarv…Johnny, little man, how’s it going?...Hey, Snake, I missed you…” she leaned toward the cage Kai was holding and made kissy noises at his pet.

“I love you, too.” Kai droned.

Summer laughed as she placed her guitar gently in its case and joined them for the walk back to the apartment on St. Marks to meet Andrew for band practice.

After driving in Friday afternoon traffic in an un-air-conditioned vehicle and walking up five flights in the sweltering stairwell, Eames was in no mood. She pounded on the door viciously after knocking twice with no answer.

“Come on, Eames, they’re not home.” Bobby said soothingly as he tried to steer her back toward the stairs.

For a moment he felt relieved. He knew they had to speak with these young people for the sake of the case, but Summer had been so forward and blatantly honest with him that morning. The last thing he wanted was for his partner to find out he’d slept with a witness.

There was a clamor in the foyer below and he stepped to the edge of the landing and looked over the rail. The band had just come in. Jarv was getting the mail from their box while Andrew, dressed in garbage man’s coveralls, led the procession up the stairs, trying to tell them about his day.

“So, you see, I opened this can and there, right on top with hardly any dirt on it was…”

That’s as far as he got before Kai, doing a great impression of Fred Schneider of the B-52s, sang in a quick-time syllabic beat. “Don’t you dig my Welfare t-shirt?”

“Found it in the trash!” the others joined in.

“No, come on, this is cool…” Andrew attempted.

Johnny joined in with his impression, “I sure love my platform flip-flops”

“Found ‘em in the trash!” sang his compadres.

Summer didn’t even wait for Andrew to protest before adding her verse, “Got an original Elvis demo…”

“Found it in the trash!”

Jarv jogged up behind them, singing loudly, “Got an ancient Egyptian Sarcophagus…”

“Found it in the trash!”

Andrew stopped short at the top of the stairs, almost causing a ‘Three Stooges’ moment when the others crashed into his back and nearly fell down the stairs. Alex stepped forward and introduced herself.

“I’m Detective Eames, this is my partner, Detective Goren…”

“We don’t talk to cops.” Andrew stated, staring the officers down and blocking the stairway.

Summer wiggled around the massive steroid monster as she muttered, “Shut up, Andrew. I hate you.” She pulled herself free of his bulk and smiled up at Bobby, “Hey, Bob-Robert!” then, with a cursory glance at his partner she added, “What’s shakin’ mange bacon?”

Goren swallowed hard as he realized she was still dressed as she had been when she left his apartment. He hoped Eames wouldn’t recognize the shirt. “We’d like t-to talk to you and your friends…about Star.”

“We DON’T talk to COPS!” Andrew repeated angrily.

Summer rolled her eyes and shouted, “Jarv!”

A set of keys flew over Andrew’s head from somewhere behind him and clattered to a stop just behind Summer. She bent down to pick them up, giving Bobby the briefest glimpse of lace panties. Before his heart stopped completely, he turned his attention to Kai. The young man was yelling at the drummer.

“You fracking idiot! They’re trying to find out who killed Star! We’re talking to them, so shut the frack up!”

“Come in, detectives.” Summer said sweetly, standing with the door open.

Andrew shoved past them and stomped into the apartment. It was hard to miss the murderous look the young woman gave him as he passed her.

“Thank you.” Alex acknowledged her as she entered the younger woman’s home.

Summer smiled at Goren and ushered them inside. Eames was surprised by the cleanliness of the two-bedroom flat. The furnishings were obviously second-hand and the shelves and coffee table made from old lumber and concrete blocks, but the place looked clean and generally tidy. Jarv, Kai, and Summer placed their gear in what must have been intended to be a dining area, but was instead stacked with dozens of worn black instrument cases.

“Have a seat.” Kai offered genially, indicating the small space that passed for their living room.

There were two large windows, draped with a Union Jack and an American Flag for curtains, above a comfortable window seat; a long, rust-colored sofa, and a pair of mismatched wingchairs, one in shabby green velvet and the other in a blue and gold plaid.

“Wait!...Not there…” Summer cut in as Alex started to lower herself to the sofa. “Try the chairs.”

Noting the detective’s look of confusion, Jarv added, “The couch kinda smells…Andrew ‘found it in the trash.’”

Andrew stomped past the detectives and flopped onto the window seat with his arms folded across his chest, pouting. Kai, Summer and Jarv filled the sofa and Johnny sat on the floor beside them.

For a moment the only sound was the whir of the window air conditioner and the slight fluttering of our nation’s flag in its breeze. Summer gave Bobby an amorous look but stopped quickly when his posture stiffened and he coughed as he tore his gaze away.

Goren leaned on the bar that separated the tiny kitchen from the living room and forced his eyes wander, taking it all in as his partner began the interview. There she was, the whirlwind that so effortlessly turned him upside down, sitting on the sofa across from him with her head down and her delicate hand caressing the nape of her neck in a vain attempt to hide that beautiful, knowing smirk.

“So, you all…” Alex began.

Andrew let out a loud sigh. Eames cut him with a sharp glance and continued, “You all knew Star Morgan, correct?”

The drummer snorted and shifted in the window seat. Jarv leaned forward on the far end of the sofa and addressed the situation, “What the frack, Andrew? You need some cream for your vagina? Stop sulking and do something to help somebody else for once in your life!” he turned his attention to the detective in the chair across from him and replied, “Yes. We knew her.”

“You were married?” she asked, looking at Kai with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah, for seven years. We got married right after high school. Both of us had parents that sucked. We were better off together, you know?” He answered as he scratched at the stubble on his shaved head, “We got divorced three years ago.”

Andrew laughed and added, “She switched teams…”

“You’d understand about that, wouldn’t you?” Jarv quipped and, when the big man tried to retort, punctuated the sentiment with, “Shut up, very attractive and successful homosexual.”

“She’s still my best friend.” Kai continued sadly. “This was our apartment.”

“Were you aware that she suffered from Kleptomania?” Goren queried while touching the ashtray, photos, and all the other small items lined up on the bar.

The younger man nodded from his perch on the sofa. “Yeah, but it was never a big deal. Just little stuff, you know?”

Everyone silently agreed and Summer furthered the explanation, “When Jarv and I first moved to the city we were living in the van. Then we met Kai and Star, formed our first band and moved in here with them. It was great. Sure, stuff would disappear all the time…Pencils, bobby pins, toothbrushes…Every Sunday, when she’d go to brunch with her Mom, Kai would bring a bunch of pizza boxes out of their bedroom and dump them on the table. We’d just pick out our stuff and put it back.”

“Right.” Kai said, “Whatever was left, I’d try to figure out where she got it and take it back, or pay for it… I mean, it was mostly worthless junk, nobody ever got mad.”

Bobby tilted his head and looked at him earnestly, “You cared for her…tried to keep her out of trouble.”

“Of course.”

“Did you ever seek psychiatric help?” he prodded gently.

“You needed to.” Andrew put in abruptly, “Should’ve taken her straight to Bellevue. She’s was crazy…taking everybody’s crap…totally whacked…Yeah, cause…yeah, cause, yeah…”

Kai Hamlett leapt to his feet, his entire bald head crimson with rage, “You fracking fat bitch! I’ll kick you in your cant! You’ve been with the band, what? Six months? You didn’t really know her…You don’t get to talk about Star…EVER! Get lost! Take a hike! You shouldn’t even be here for this…”

“FINE!” the drummer shouted, stamped past them and disappeared around the corner into the hall. A door slammed and Summer jumped to her feet.

“Oh, no you don’t!” she yelled as she clambered over her brother and rounded the same corner.

Bobby looked at a picture hanging on the wall next to him while they all listened to the sounds of pounding and screaming that echoed throughout the apartment from the tiny hallway.

“Get out of my room!...I’m serious Andrew…Unlock this door!”

The picture was a piece of needlepoint that read, ‘Live Free, Love Well, Laugh Often’ Goren touched its surface, it had an unusual texture. ‘Maybe hemp.’ He thought and took it off the wall to examine it more closely.

“STOP TOUCHING MY STUFF!!”

Summer’s shriek almost caused him to drop the small artwork, then he realized she was still shouting at her bedroom door.

“You’d better not be beating off in there!...Let me in, you bastilled!...I swear to God, Andrew…”

Bobby gently replaced the picture on its hook and pointed toward the hallway, “Should I…?” he asked the remaining band members.

“Nah,” Johnny replied, “They do this all the time.”

“Yeah,” Jarv added, unconcernedly, “He goes in there, messes with all her crop, and whacks off on her pillow…She hates him.”

“I don’t blame her.” Eames muttered.

“I’ll kick your fracking bass down all five fracking flights of stairs!...Do you hear me, you son of a botch?...Kai, get the bat!”

“Summer!” Kai screamed, “Shut up! This is not finding out who took Star from us!”

Summer reappeared looking very apologetic, “Oh, God…Kai, I’m sorry…” she said softly as she went to her friend and hugged him, “Andrew just peeves me off so much.”

“I know.” He patted her back reassuringly, “If he wasn’t such a great drummer…”

“And if he didn’t owe me five hundred bucks…” Jarv put in.

“He owes you money?” Summer turned to her brother, getting angry again, “I loaned him four hundred two weeks ago…”

Goren watched with interest and the memory of her rapid change of emotion during his interview resurfaced. ‘Not bipolar,’ he thought, ‘passionate.’ It took a Herculean effort for him to suppress the grin that tried to surface.

“Really?” Johnny asked, surprised, “I gave him two hundred yesterday…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kai said dismissively, “Andrew’s a dock-smack and he owes everybody money.”

He sat back down on the sofa and looked up at his friends, almost pleading, “Can we please get back to Star?” his fingers absently traced the solid black five point star tattoo on his chest, just above his heart. “I want to know who did this.” He shifted his gaze to Goren, “And if possible, my Louisville Slugger and I would like a few moments alone with the prack.”

Alex decided to ignore the comment and use the precious moments of relative calm to continue the interview, “We understand that Star may have had a girlfriend…Did any of you ever meet her?”

“No,” Kai replied, “She never brought her girlfriends over until they’d been together a while. She liked outsiders, you know, normal chicks. She thought we’d scare ‘em off if she didn’t get them used to the idea first.”

“Well…” Johnny spoke up timidly.

“You met her girlfriend?” Eames encouraged the young man.

“Not exactly…”he said, “I saw Star walking with a woman in midtown. I said Hi, but Star acted like she didn’t know me.”

“When was this?” Bobby asked.

“About two or three weeks ago.”

“Can you describe the woman?”

Johnny scrunched up his face in concentration, “Taller than Star…maybe 5’ 6”…Blond…Not all that pretty…Kinda boring looking…They were holding hands.”

“How was she dressed?” Alex prompted.

“Classy…a suit like the ones my mom wears to work. She’s a secretary…My mom, I mean…”

At that moment the front door burst open and a rotund red haired man in his fifties entered carrying a toolbox and not wearing a shirt. Eames had to turn away. He was the palest and hairiest fat man she’d ever seen.

“Hey Chuy.” Jarv greeted the newcomer, “What are you doing here?”

“You said your sink was broken.” He replied, walking toward the kitchen.

“I thought you were gonna do that this morning.” Jarv responded.

“Couldn’t. I had to get the cops over here to evict those losers in 3C.” the man, who was obviously the building super, answered, “Then; Mrs. Kroft’s grandson flushed a sweater. Darn toilet was flooding all over…dripped clear through to the second floor.”

“Well, could you at least put on a shirt? Nobody wants to see that…” the tenant grinned at him.

“Ha-ha, kid.” Chuy said as he dug in his toolbox for a wrench. “Good thing you’re my favorite tenants.”

“We pay our rent on time.” Summer stated.

“That’s all it takes, doll-face.” He grinned at her before he sank below the level of the counter.

“Seriously, Mr. Meara” Jarv prodded good naturedly, “If Ron Jeremy and Chewbacca had a kid…”

Alex coughed to stifle her laughter and quickly regained her composure, “I think that’s all we need for now. If you can think of anything else that might help us…”

“We’ll call.” Summer said with a smile and rose to show them to the door.

As they left the apartment, Bobby turned back briefly and whispered, “Thank you, Summer. For helping and for…um…not s-saying anything a-about…”

“Not a problem.” She whispered back with a smile and a wink. The door closed and, just for a moment, Bobby heard that strange tune he couldn’t quite recall humming through his brain.

He shook it off and joined his partner on the stairs.

“What a circus.” She observed.

Goren chuckled and said, “They’re an interesting group…”

As soon as the detectives were gone, the band swung into action; changing clothes and loading equipment into their van.

“I thought we were going to rehearse before we left.” Johnny said as he helped Jarv carry their amps downstairs.

“No time.” His friend replied, “Not if were going to make it to Stelton in time to set up and still have dinner with Mom and Dad before the gig.”

They returned to the apartment just as Kai emerged from the hall, still damp from his shower and wearing camouflage cut-offs with a pair of Converse high tops. “You’re up.” He said to Jarv, “Andrew’s changing in our room.”

“Okay.” He started down the hall to the bathroom just in time to hear his sister’s voice resound from behind her bedroom door.

“Gosh darn it, Andrew!” The door opened and a pillow flew out, nearly hitting Jarv as he passed.

He knocked on the door directly across the hall from his sister’s room. “Andrew, Summer’s peeved and I’m getting in the shower. So, hurry up.”

Kai and Johnny continued shuttling cases from the apartment to the van.

“You need to change, man?” Kai asked.

“Nah, I’m just going to wear what I’ve got on. Will we have time to drop by my mom’s and pick up my bag?”

“We’ll make time.” The bassist answered as they started down the stairs.

“What about my hair?” Johnny continued.

“I’ve got the glue in my pocket. We’ll do it on the way.”

Summer opened her door just as Andrew stepped out of her brother’s room, “You’re washing that when we get back.” She said, pointing at the pillow lying in the middle of the little hallway.

“Whatever.” He shrugged as he slung his duffle bag over his shoulder.

“Not whatever.” She replied hotly, “You are washing it, Princess.”

“It’s a kilt.” He glared at her.

Summer sat on the edge of the coffee table and put on her motorcycle boots, “I’m just glad you didn’t wear that last night. I hate it when I go somewhere and some botch is wearing the same outfit.” She slid her backpack onto her shoulders and picked up the last guitar case.

Andrew walked out and slammed the door in her face as she tried to follow him.
“Son of a…” she muttered and called to her brother, “Jarv! Get the lead out…We’re ready to go!” At the last second she remembered Kai’s pet snake. She went back for the cage and took him down to Mrs. Kroft so that she could take care of him.

On the street, Kai, Johnny, and Andrew secured the load and played a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors to determine who would drive.

“HEY!” they heard from above and looked up. Jarv was standing on the fire escape dripping wet and wearing nothing but a pair of flip-flops. “Don’t leave! I’m almost ready! Just give me five minutes!”

Soon they were on the road with Andrew at the wheel hitting every pothole he could find.

“Gosh darn it, Andrew!” Kai yelled from the rear of the van after a particularly jarring bump, “Knock it off! I’m working with Superglue back here!”

“He can’t help it.” Jarv said from the front passenger seat, “It’s hard to drive in high heels, but you have to have the perfect shoes to match the dress and the purse to match the shoes. Then there’s the problem of finding the perfect ponytail holder to complete the outfit…So, stop hassling him. It isn’t easy being an ugly woman.”

Andrew gripped the steering wheel tightly and screamed, “Shut up! It is not a skirt or a dress, it is a KILT! There’s nothing wrong with wanting to show my Scottish heritage!”

Jarv moved his arms and legs as if he were trying to dance a highland fling in the confined space, “Well, Hi-Dee-Diddly-Doh!” he said in sing-song voice, “I feel a tad bit Scottish today!...

Summer laughed and patted the driver on the shoulder, “I know McKown is a Scottish name, sweetie, but you do remember that you’re adopted, right? You’re not Scottish…”

His only response was to pull the van to the side of the road, turn off the engine and fold his arms across his chest. Immediately, his band mates started shouting at him.

“Geezus!”

“What the…?”

“We have a gig tonight, moron!”

Jarv shoved his shoulder hard, “If you’re going to pout, get in the back. We don’t have time for this.”

They performed a classic “Chinese fire drill” without the benefit of a red light and Jarv muttered as he pulled the vehicle back into traffic, “What a giant wussy…learn to take a joke.”

Back at One Police Plaza, Goren and Eames made arrangements with the manager of Macy’s department store to interview female employees fitting the description Johnny Newsom had given. As she hung up the phone Alex shook her head and muttered, “A well-dressed, average height, blond working at Macy’s…This ought to be as easy as finding a needle in a needle-stack.”

waiting for the next chapter.

Your wish is my command...



Chapter 7:


Saturday morning found the members of Succubus Blush sprawled on the living room floor of Ed and Anita Davis’ Stelton, New Jersey home. Anita was a lovely woman, petite and curvy. The only outward clue to her sixty years of age was the proliferation of silver streaks glinting in her flowing chestnut hair. She moved about her modest kitchen, humming softly while she mixed up a batch of buckwheat pancakes for her children and their friends. She loved it when their band played in Stelton, which they did once a month. She and her husband had raised their children to be free thinkers and to express themselves through art. Jerry and Summer had grown up to do just that and their parents couldn’t have been prouder.

Ed Davis was a tall, lean man in his early sixties with long straight hair that was thinning on top. An aging hippie and staunch anti-establishmentarian, full of conspiracy theories, he was proprietor of the town’s longest running health food store, Davis Organics. He had just showered, shaved, and combed his hair back into a ponytail. He finished dressing in the bedroom he’d shared with the love of his life for the past forty years and began the daily ritual of searching for his keys. Years of premium weed and the acid he’d ingested in his youth had taken their toll. He checked his pockets, the dresser top, and the bathroom vanity with no success.

“Nita!” he yelled, “I’ve lost my keys again!”

Anita stopped cooking and hurried from the kitchen toward the back of the house.

“Nita!”

“Shhhh.” She said softly as she appeared in the doorway, “You’ll wake the kids…did you check the pants you were wearing yesterday?”

“Yes,” he replied at a somewhat lower volume, “if I’m going to close at noon and have a chance to spend some time with the kids, I’ve got to get in to the store early this morning.”

In the living room, band members began to stir. Jarv sat up from the floor in front of the sofa and scratched his head. Kai stretched in the old gold recliner and belched. Andrew rolled over on the couch and farted, just inches from Jarv’s head.

“Gad darn it Andrew!” he admonished as he smacked the drummer in the head, “What did you eat at that diner last night?”

Andrew sat up and rubbed his eyes as he mumbled, “They had Scottish bread…mmmm, Scottish bread makes me happy…”he leaned to one side and launched another air biscuit in Kai’s direction.

“Oh, dude!” the bassist fanned his face hoping to generate some fresh air, “Scottish bread? What the hull is that? There’s no such thing…”

Johnny opened his eyes and stared blankly from the matching recliner next to the one Kai had slept in. Summer curled up tighter on the loveseat and put a pillow over her head.

Andrew stood up to stretch, “Sure there is…” he began, letting a particularly foul bit of flatulence escape directly in Jarv’s face.

Jarv looked up at him and spat, “Well, Hi-Dee-Diddly-Frack-YOU!”

Summer threw her pillow at them and dug in the couch cushion by her head. She pulled out a set of keys, sat up, rubbed her cheek where the object had been poking her and shouted, “Dad! Keys!”

Her parents entered the living room. Ed took the keys from his daughter and planted a kiss on top of her head. “Thanks honey.”

“No problem” she replied groggily, “Hey Dad, I forgot to ask yesterday, did you get any more of that gum in at the store?”

“Oh, yeah,” he patted his pockets and looked puzzled, “I knew you’d want it, so I brought some home…Where did I put it?”

Anita retrieved two packages of organic blueberry flavor Glee Gum™ from a side table and handed them to Summer. “Here they are, dear…I’m making pancakes, they’ll be ready soon, anyone hungry?”

“Can’t.” Ed said giving his wife a peck on the cheek, “I have to go take care of Stelton’s health food needs…” and hurried out the door amid a hail of goodbyes.

“Well?” Anita asked, surveying the young people in her living room.

“We’re not hungry, Mom.” Jarv answered.

“Nonsense.” She said, “You could all use a healthy meal…And, no,” she looked straight at Kai with a half smile, “whiskey does not count as a whole grain food.”

Summer joined her mother in the kitchen and chatted with her while she cooked. Then, while the guys were scarfing down pancakes and retiring bloated to various beds and sofas, she went out to the garden and helped her mother weed, water, and harvest.

Anita picked a few choice tomatoes. “So, what’s his name?” she asked her daughter.

“What?” Summer tried not to smile as she looked up at her from the lettuces.

“Don’t be coy.” Her mother answered, “You’ve got a young man. I can see it in your eyes.”

“Bobby.” One word but, when she said it, it sounded like a symphony.

“Is he nice?” Anita didn’t like to pry, but as a mother, she just couldn’t help herself.

“He’s very nice.” Her daughter stated simply.

“Have you?” she didn’t have to finish the question. The Davis’ were very open about human sexuality.

Summer giggled, “Yes.”

“And?”

Her green eyes danced as they looked into their source, “Fan-freakin’-tastic.”

The older woman smiled, “So you think this one might be around for awhile…”

“I hope so.” She replied, turning her attention back to the lettuce.

“What does he do?”

Summer took a deep breath and didn’t look up, “He’s a cop.”

Anita eyed her daughter for a moment before returning to the task of filling her basket with tomatoes, “Well, we won’t tell your father.”

I Really like the story.

Thanks, Jryan. It's good to know someone it reading it!

Here's the next chapter...

Chapter Eight:


Detectives Robert Goren and Alexandra Eames spent all day Saturday and half of Monday interviewing employees of Macy’s department store with no success. They were tired, bored, hungry and feeling hopeless.

Bobby’s cell phone clamored for attention from his pocket. He welcomed the excuse to walk away from the parade of futility that passed through the break room they were using to conduct their interviews.

“Goren.” He announced into the device.

“Ross here. How’s it coming?” his captain asked.

“Slow.” Bobby replied, “No hits yet. We still have about twenty more women to talk to.”

“Keep at it.” He instructed, “The labs came back on the gum you found at the crime scene.”

Bobby perked up at that, “Anything?”

“It’s organic. Expensive as far as candy goes…You can get it at any health food store. The saliva gave them a great DNA sample…Female, not the victim’s…Find the girlfriend and I’m betting we’ll find the killer.”

Goren hung up and reentered the break room smiling.

“Who’s next?” he asked.

Eames checked the list of employees the manager had given them, “Valerie Lynch.”

Miss Lynch entered the room timidly. Her pale features, large brown eyes, and nervous disposition gave them the impression that they were looking at a frightened rabbit in a dark blue power suit.

“You wanted to see me?” she asked softly.

“You’re Valerie Lynch?” Eames queried.

“Yes.” She nodded.

“Have a seat.” Alex indicated the chair across the table from her. “I’m sure you’ve heard what this is all about by now.”

“You want us to identify someone.”

“Right.” The detective smiled warmly, “We’re working on a case and are hoping someone in the store has seen this woman.” She moved the photograph closer to the lady and continued, “Do you recognize her?”

Valerie’s eyes barely grazed the picture, “No.” she said quickly and stood up to leave.

Goren moved in swiftly blocking her path; he leaned down, craning his neck to bring his eyes to her level and asked “Are you sure?” he reached out to take the photo from Eames and hold it in front of Miss Lynch, “Because you didn’t really look…”

“Um…” she bit her lower lip, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” he asked and pulled the picture of Star’s corpse from the coroner’s file, “How about now?”

“Oh…oh my god…” Though the detectives would not have thought it possible, Valerie’s face went even paler.

“She’s your girlfriend.” It was a statement, softly spoken and unarguable.

She nodded mutely and Bobby, with the instincts of a cobra whose prey is safely hypnotized, moved in for the kill. “That’s a lovely necklace you’re wearing. Interesting design, where did you get it?”

“What?...” she fingered the flat gold charm covered in Egyptian hieroglyphics “um…uh…someone gave it to me…”

Eames quickly searched through her files and found what her partner was hoping for before their suspect finished her lie. “Really?” she smirked, “Because it matches the description of one stolen from a jewelry store in the area just last month.”

Goren put an arm around the woman and said conspiratorially, “You’re going to need to come downtown with us.”

“No, I can’t…I” the scared white rabbit looked ready to bolt.

“Valerie Lynch, you’re under arrest for possession of stolen property. You have the right to remain silent…” Eames cuffed the suspect and they began walking her out as she Mirandized her.

As soon as Alex finished reading her rights, Valerie said, “I want a lawyer.”

Eames drove the SUV back to One Police Plaza in silence while her partner stared at his notebook and their suspect sniveled in the back seat. Bobby tried to focus on his notes, but his mind kept shouting, ‘We got her! Case closed. Summer’s going to be so happy.’

The part of him that never stopped being Detective Robert O. Goren tried to be the voice of reason, reminding him that the case was not closed. Not until they could prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that Miss Lynch had murdered Star Morgan. Summer was still a witness in an open case and that was why he could not claim her. Yet there was a primitive part of him that raved at him to make her his own in every way; heart, mind, body, and soul. That primordial instinct told him that she was his woman and he must make sure she knew it, too.

The battle raged inside his head. Want duking it out with Reason for the World Championship and he wasn’t sure who he wanted to win. He had always been proud of his iron self-discipline and it had never failed him. He couldn't allow it to now.

‘I am not a fracking caveman!’ Reason screamed and, for the moment, Want was quieted.

Bobby still felt guilty for giving in to his needs the other night, no matter how impaired his judgment might have been, but the urge to reciprocate and give Summer some physical pleasure was becoming too persistant.

Back at MCS, he stepped into the interrogation room and back into the role of Detective Robert O. Goren. Miss Lynch sat waiting for her attorney, looking terrified and miserable. He took a seat across from her and began attempting idle chit-chat hoping he could gather some nugget of information that would solidify their hold on the suspect.

“Are you all right? Would you like some coffee? Soda?” he sounded like the perfect host entertaining in his home.

“No.” Valerie whispered as she shook her head, “thanks.”

“You have a hard time talking about your relationship.” He spoke sympathetically, “You haven’t come out of the closet.”

It wasn’t a question, but she answered anyway, “Not at work…”

“Your family?...Friends?” he asked softly.

“Yeah.”

He reached across the table and placed a hand over hers, “Your parents don’t approve?”

Valerie yanked her hand away and glared, “My father’s dead and my mother is fine with it.”

“She’s supportive.” He nodded, keeping his voice even and quiet, “You’re close.”

“Of course we’re close!” she spat, “If we weren’t I wouldn’t drive all the way to Peekskill every two weeks to see her!”

The door burst open and an angry, tired looking public defender limped in on high heels and rebuked Goren, “You know you aren’t supposed to talk to her…I’d like a moment alone with my client.”

Bobby swung out of his chair without a word and walked directly into the next room where Eames and Ross stood watching. “We need to check the pawn shops.” He said.

Ross knit his brows and responded, “We’ve checked every pawn broker in the five boroughs and turned up empty.”

“Not here.” Goren answered, “Peekskill. You heard her. She visits her mother every two weeks.”

“I’ll call Peekskill PD.” Eames said already walking toward the door.

“Have them get a warrant for the mother’s house, too.” The captain called after her and turned his attention to Goren, “This could take a day or two.” Ross advised, “We aren’t going to be able to hold her without the jewels. Her attorney will argue that Miss Morgan gave her client the necklace as a gift and she had no idea it was stolen.”

As if the captain had donned a turban and looked into a crystal ball, his words came to pass. By evening, Valerie Lynch had been home for several hours and Goren and Eames were just finishing up yet another mountain of paperwork. Alex yawned and put the last file on top of the stack in her out box.

“I’m going home.” She said wearily, “We won’t hear from Peekskill till morning, anyway”

“Me too.” Bobby replied, stacking his own remaining files neatly on the corner of his desk, “See you tomorrow.”

Uuu..I can wait for more,chapter 9!!(I'm blushed in my face like a redest red!!)

Wow, detectiveB, well...prepare to blush even more...LOL

Here's a link to Chapters 9,10, and 11...which I wouldn't dare to post here

WARNING!!! Explict Material!

Don't click the link if you can't take the heat!


For those who can...Enjoy!

THANKS!!
I do have two big novels started in my head about me and Bobby;long time ago!!The third is allready starting to form!!I can write fast enaf,to write them!!I wish I had a..I don't know how is called,but it is tiny microfon you connect with the computer,speak in it,and the leters tipe them self!!Any way,I have a photografic memory,so the movels are in my head like films!!
I will clik now,and if i like it tomorow,too;and more!!

ooo I need a cigarette and I don't smoke.

Bobby woke with a tune swirling in his head and the feel of summer steam on his skin. He slapped his alarm clock and the music stopped. Rolling over to smile at Summer, he found an envelope on the pillow where her head should have been. He traced his own name written on the front and opened it with trepidation. ‘Here it comes’ he thought resignedly, ‘ I like you, Bobby, but you’re too…smart, intense, weird…for me.’ He slid the note from its wrapping and a slow smile of joy and relief spread across his face as he read her words.

Bobby,

Has anyone ever told you that you are amazing? I’ll bet they have…How about fantastic? Probably so…I’m going to have to work on increasing my vocabulary!

You’re beautiful when you’re sleeping. I didn’t want to wake you, but I had to get going. I’ve already missed the prime spot at Tompkins Square once this season because of you and I can’t afford to do that too many times when the tourists are out there. Baby’s got rent to pay!

We’ve got gigs for the next three days, so I won’t be able to come by. Call me if you want. I’ll see you as soon as I can.

Kisses,
Summer

Bobby returned the note to its envelope and placed it on his night table next to the alarm clock. He hopped out of bed and went about his morning ritual with a spring in his step.

In the kitchen, he poured his morning coffee into a travel mug and noticed a blue and white gum wrapper lying on the counter. His smile widened with the knowledge that his whirlwind had left it there and swept it into the garbage before heading out the door.

In an interrogation room on the eleventh floor of One Police Plaza, Detective Eames was slamming her head against a wall that looked a lot like a green haired female musician.

“Look,” Alex sighed, “No one would blame you. I saw the evidence…What he did to your pillow…I’d want to kill him..;”

“I didn’t kill him.” Summer returned angrily, “I wasn’t even there.”

“Where were you?” Eames asked for what seemed like the hundredth time, hoping she would get a different answer…She didn’t.

“With a friend.”

“All night?”

“Yes.”

“What’s your friend’s name?”

“None of your business.”

The detective put her hands behind her head and looked down for a moment, resisting the urge to scream.

“Summer.” She said firmly, raising her head to look the suspect in the eye, “If you didn’t do it, fine…Great...But, right now, all the evidence is pointing straight to you. You hated Andrew and everyone knows it. Your fingerprints are all over the apartment…”

Summer started to object and remind Alex that she lived there, but Eames stopped her with a raised hand. “If you want me to help you, you’ve got to help yourself. You have to give me something…anything…so I can clear you. Come on, your friend’s name … a DNA sample …anything.”

Summer glared at the detective and muttered, “Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty…Dad was right…I don’t have to give you anything. There is no way you have any proof. You couldn’t possibly have…I DIDN’T DO IT!”

A slight tapping from behind the glass caught Eames’ attention. She glanced back to see her own reflection and had to wonder why she always did that…did she honestly expect that someday she would see the person signaling her?

“I’ll be right back.” She said with a terse nod to her suspect and went to the observation room.

Captain Danny Ross started speaking before Alex had fully entered the small, dark room, “You’re getting nowhere. Let’s give it a rest and go see how Logan is doing with the brother.”

They walked across the hall to another observation room and Ross held the door for his detective. He looked up just in time to see Goren walk around the corner. He closed the door behind Eames and marched up to Bobby.

“Where have you been? Why couldn’t your partner reach you?”

The big detective looked taken aback and immediately began fishing in his pocket for his cell phone. “What?” he asked, genuinely confused when he found the device wasn’t on. “It’s off, I don’t know how that happened, I’m sorry…”

“No time.” The captain gave his curt reply, “There’s been another murder, possible connection to the Morgan girl. Your partner could use some help with the suspects. Come on, I’ll brief you.”

Bobby emerged from the captain’s office a short time later looking calm and contemplative to all the outside world even though his heart was threatening to pound right out of his chest.

He entered the observation room and was mildly surprised to find Logan watching Eames as she attempted to glean some piece of information from Jarv Davis.

“What are you retarded or something? I already told you. Summer wouldn’t kill anybody.”

Logan switched off the speaker and turned to the opposite window where his partner; that girl with the red hair, they changed so often Goren could never keep their names straight; was conducting a similarly unsuccessful interrogation with Kai Hamlett.

“…I mean, just look at her!” the bassist said emphatically, “Summer’s…what? Three feet tall and weighs twelve pounds…Whose arse could she really kick anyway?”

“These kids are nuts.” Logan droned, “None of them is going to talk…It would be so much easier if we could just throw them all in one room and smack them around until somebody confesses.”

“I need to talk to Eames,” was Bobby’s only response as he signaled his partner by tapping on the glass.

He escorted his partner to a quiet corner of the break room and took a little too much time getting their coffees as he mentally prepared himself for what he knew he had to do.

Bobby told her everything and listened patiently to her whispered rant about the idiocy of his actions.

With her lecture complete and no other suspect in the case, Alex had to ask, “Are you sure she was with you all night? You didn’t sleep? No details, please.”

“Yes, we slept.” He answered quietly, “She woke me at about two a.m. and this morning there was a note…”

“What time did you fall asleep the first time?” Eames pressed.

“I’m not sure…I think around ten or eleven.”

Alex gave him a stony look, “The victim was killed sometime between midnight and one a.m. She could have left and come back, Bobby. You would be the perfect alibi.”

Bobby slowly shook his head, “I don’t believe that.”

“You don’t want to believe it.” Eames retorted.

“Ross said you had DNA.” He continued, “A sample would clear her.”

“She won’t give us a sample…What does that tell you?”

He knew his partner was angry and that she had every right to be. She thought his judgment was clouded and he could see her point, but he honestly could not connect the free-spirited, fun loving Summer with the heinous, cold-blooded, bludgeoning murder of someone she knew. That kind of violence didn’t fit her personality.

Sure, he’d seen Summer hit, kick, and trip her band mates in fits of anger. But it had always seemed good natured; more like a wake-up call than an actual intent to do harm.

“Let me talk to her.” He sighed.

“You’d better do more than talk. We need that sample. And, whatever you do, don’t tell Ross what you just told me.”

Alex called Ross away from the observation room, where he stood watching Summer glare at the two way mirror with her arms folded across her chest, under the pretext of needing his help with John Newsom. That was Bobby’s cue to take advantage of a few unmonitored moments with Summer.

Summer brightened when she saw him enter the room. “Get me out of here.” She whispered as he sat down across from her.

“I want to.” He answered, “but you have to give a DNA sample so we can clear you.”

“No.” she answered, “I don’t want my genetic material on file.”

“Spoken like a true conspiracy theorist. Your parents really are hippies, aren’t they?” he cocked his head to the side as he looked at her with soft, pleading eyes. “If you don’t do this, I am going to have to tell my boss about us and then I will be out of a job.”

“There has to be another way.” Her eyes begged as strongly as his, “You know I didn’t do this.”


Bobby sighed heavily and looked at his hands folded on the cold steel table, hating himself for what he was about to do.

“I can’t be certain…” he began.

“What!?!” Summer’s voice echoed and her eyes flashed like lightening as storm clouds gathered around her in the tiny gray room.

“I was sleeping,” he went on, forcing his voice to remain strong, “You could have left and come back…”

“I didn’t.” she growled.

“How can I be sure?” he asked simply, “Let me do a DNA test.”

Summers face glowed red with anger and tears welled in her eyes, “FINE!”

Eames cringed at yet another tap on interrogation room glass. She knew she couldn’t hold Ross back any longer. He wanted to see what was happening with Summer. Fortunately, she saw the lab technician headed for Bobby at the door to interrogation room two. When she and Ross were in position and switched on the speaker, the tech began putting on her latex gloves.

Summer slammed her fist on the table. “NO!” she yelled and pointed at Bobby, “You do it…Since you’re so unsure.”

Her voice was soft and dripping with venom. Goren motioned for a pair of gloves while green fire flew from Summer’s hard eyes and engulfed his soul. He cupped her chin and, as he brought the swab toward her waiting mouth, she began to hum.

Ross turned to Eames and asked, “Why is she humming the tune to ‘Bobby’s Girl’?”

Ooohhh.... I'm not too sure venom is soft and fire is green, but what the hey, it's fiction! Thanks for posting. Yeah, "Bobby's Girl."

guess RL got in the way of this story.

Must... know... ending...

PLEASE come back and finish this! Please!

Karraselle, long time no chat! Where are you?! I'm done with Chapter 12. What happened next?

This story just died, that's why I stopped reading fan fics for awhile. hmmm maybe I should finish this one, lol.

I even went and read the 3 chapters she couldn't post here.....yikes! Some of that was VERY un-Bobby-like, if you know what I mean.......

I do wish she'd come back and finish it.....

Anybody send her a pm asking her about it?

This is a great story, and I'd like to know how it all ends........maybe Summer has a twin? But, I'm bettin' she did it!