FK Fanfic: 'Peccadillo's'

Special thanks to my beta readers Ren, Shana and Carly.

by Cousin Mary Jenkins

Tracy took a deep breath and peeked out past the dark-gold, velvet curtain, almost a full house tonight. She looked down at herself, still no where near used to the sheer lack of covering on her trim body. And she didn't care what Candy said, body glitter was not almost as good as real clothes!
She'd taken this assignment against her better judgment. Undercover at a strip club was usually strictly a Vice Squad duty, but since one of the dancers and one of the patrons of this particular club, Peccadillo's, had turned up dead, it had become homicide's. More specifically... hers. Yippee.
Tracy sighed. She knew she was one of the few homicide detectives that could pull off this cover, and since someone on the Police Commission, she was guessing not her father, had suggested her specifically for the case, she'd somehow found herself roped into it. Tracy grimaced and tugged at the minuscule piece of cloth that passed for her top and mentally prepared for tonight's humiliation. After over a week of the 10 PM to 2 AM shift she still wasn't any closer to catching the killer, she was, however, developing a real appreciation of how much work being an exotic dancer really was.
"And now gentleman, and I use the term very loosely," There was light laughter as the crowd reacted to the M.C.'s oldest and best loved joke, "Peccadillo's is proud to present the lovely and tempting... Tracy!"
Tracy took a deep breath, pasted on a huge smile and stepped out onto the catwalk. She held her arms open, as if presenting herself to them all. Pulsating blue and red lights shone all around her, the crowd responded with hoots and yells of appreciation. Just then her music kicked in and Korn's Freak on a Leash blared through the sound system.
Tracy looked down at the men lining the stage, the great thing about a big crowd was that the guys near the stage almost always were the goofy drunk type, all the scarier ones tended towards the back walls and bar. One man waved a dollar at her and pointed madly at himself, but Tracy just sent a mocking laugh his way and paused across the catwalk to let a man, who looked like Santa Claus... if the jolly old elf had been a biker, stick a five in the garter that circled her thigh. She loved garters, plus there was no way in hell she was letting the guys stick the money in her thong like some of the girls did.
As the music played on, Tracy strode in time to the bass to the pole near the end of the stage. Grasping it firmly in the middle, she launched herself into a spin. As she twirled she moved up the shiny brass post. Twisting, she grasped the metal shaft between her pale chalked thighs and hung upside-down for a moment. The crowd went crazy, and as she sat up, money was being tossed her way left and right. She continued her acrobatics, rarely touching the ground and occasionally reaching the ceiling some 12 feet up. Big crowds were suckers for this act, they didn't like to see the dancers playing favorites with the men pressed against the stage, so a pole dancer could really clean up.
As Tracy danced, she ruthlessly stomped away all inhibitions and watched the crowd with a detached, critical eye. Unlike the other girls, however, Tracy wasn't looking for which men looked like they had the most money to blow for the evening, no, she was scouting the crowd for familiar and unfamiliar faces. Searching for clues on who could be the killer. In the back of her mind she heard her music move into the remix of NIN's Perfect Drug realized that her set was almost over. After one final spin on the pole, she stood before the crowd and with practiced ease, reached up to the clasp between her breasts.
Suddenly there was a shout from the bar and the sound of glass breaking. A fight had broken out. Just some drunk who couldn't pay his tab it looked like, it'd be over in a minute for sure. The bouncers were already heading over there. Tracy grimaced and left her top where it was, no one was watching her anymore anyway. Procedure was for the dancers to leave the floor as soon as a fight broke out, so Tracy just shrugged and ignored the few boos sent her way as she trotted backstage. Chad would scoop up her tips from the stage for her just like he did all the girl's, it just wouldn't look right for a dancer to pick them up herself.
Tracy pulled her hair clip out and ruffled her sweat dampened locks as she walked into the dressing room. Just then her boss, Murray, caught her arm and pulled her aside.
"Got one for ya Trace, you'll like this one, he's a real looker." Murray Synder, owner of Peccadillo's was a short, slightly over-weight middle age man who'd never quite given up his penchant for leisure suits and gold chains. He'd also never given up on his misconception that he had a full head of hair, and religiously combed the wispy brown strands over the top of his head every day.
Tracy just rolled her eyes, "I don't do lap dances, you know that."
"Yeah, yeah and I totally respect that," Murray licked his lips nervously, he didn't want to upset his newest girl, the crowds loved her and new faces were worth their weight in gold around here, "But he's got money to burn babe, you'd be a fool not to--"
"I don't do lap dances," Tracy repeated, walking away from Murray, and his yellow plaid polyester, angrily.
Murray sighed, looked like he wasn't getting his 40/60 split out of that one. Maybe the guy would like Jesse? He went off to go check.
Tracy stomped into the dressing room and sat before the mirror to strip off her make-up. She cringed as she saw her over painted face, "Tracy Vetter: Babe Cop." She muttered before attacking the goop with a washcloth. She glanced at the clock. Yes! She was almost out of here. Quickly she stripped out of her costume, what there was of it, and pulled on her jeans and a black tee-shirt.
"Hiya Tracy!" Angel walked in, her thong still stuffed with bills and her bare, perfectly round breasts bouncing as she walked. "Good night, huh?"
Tracy nodded, smiling at the red head. Angel Gregg was a really sweet girl, who was very happy with what she was doing. "Pretty good, 'til that fight broke out in the middle of my last set."
"Oh that's already over," Angel grinned hugely, if a bit vacantly. She then checked her make-up in Tracy's mirror, her unnaturally shaped breast nearly whacking the cop in the head before Tracy wisely decided to move. Getting between Angel and a mirror could be dangerous! "Oh gee, I gotta do my roots again." The stripper tsked as she pointed at the mousy brown roots showing through her bright red locks.
"Um, yeah," Tracy agreed absently as she scooped up her duffel bag, "Listen Angel, I'm gonna head out, see ya tomorrow."
The stripper didn't even look away from her reflection, "Kay Tracy, have a good night."
Tracy waved at the oblivious narcissist and headed back into the hall behind the stage, crashing head long into the man waiting just outside the door. "Oof!"
"Baby Jane!" He caught her before she fell, setting her straight but keeping his hands on her arms. "I thoughts et wuz ya I saw!"
"Screed!" Tracy stared at him in shock. What was he doing here?
"Imagine, ya workin' atta place like this!" Screed admonished, "Oh an' ta think, ya were once as respectabbles as apple pie and ol' ma 'ubert!"
"Screed!" Tracy repeated his name, this time crossly. She didn't know what he was going on about but she didn't like his tone one bit. He must have been in the audience and thought she really worked her. He knew she was a cop and should realize she was undercover, but obviously he didn't. Well, she wasn't going to let him blow her carefully constructed cover! "Will you just shut up?"
The carouche looked down right offended that she'd interrupted his eloquent speech about her fall from grace. "Lookee 'ere missy, I don't knows wot 'appened ta ya ta get ya 'ere," He looked around the dimly lit hallway with distaste, which was odd because he looked a lot grungier than it, "But I means ta save ya, an--"
"Tracy," It was Chad, the bouncer, "This guy bothering you?"
Tracy looked up at the huge burley goon, who she knew secretly had a heart as soft as melted marshmallows. "I'm all right Chad, this is--"
Screed looked the bouncer up and down and suddenly seemed to decide Tracy needed protection, he stepped in front of her. "I's wit 'er bucko, move along now."
Inwardly Tracy groaned, then almost watched with resignation as Angel and Jesse popped their heads out to watch what was unfolding in the hall. This was not good. "Screed, please."
"Hey!" Angel stepped out, bouncing. "Is this your ex-husband, Tracy?" She smiled brightly, "He's just like you described him!"
Tracy's mouth gaped for a second. When she'd started working at Peccadillo's she'd decided she needed a background story that was semi-believable, and since most of the other dancers had sleazy ex-husbands... Right then she really wished she'd modeled her ex after someone else! "Um, er--" She began, but Screed cut her off.
The carouche gave her an odd look over his shoulder. He knew damn well that she most likely didn't have an ex-husband, especially one who looked like him! He really wanted to know what was going on with this bird now. That decided, he looked back at their small audience and announced, "We ain't divorced, only legality separated-like."
Tracy's hand snaked up and grabbed some of Screed's blue and brown sweater in the middle of his back, pulling a clump into a tight, painful ball in her fist. Over his shoulder she forced a smile at Chad and the others and said sweetly, "That's right, and if you'll excuse us," She yanked on the sweater and pulled the Cockney vamp towards the back exit, "We've got a lot of catching up to do."
Chad didn't look too sure, but no one wanted to argue with the murder they saw in Tracy's eyes. "Have a good night Trace, see ya tomorrow."
"Bye Tracy!" Angel and Jesse chorused before disappearing back into the dressing room.
"Come on... honey." The fake smile stayed in place for just a second more before Tracy yanked on Screed's sweater violently once more before leading him out into the parking lot.
Screed followed, curious but slightly apprehensive at the same time and not knowing why. As soon as the outside door shut behind them, he knew why.
"You jerk!" Tracy swung her duffel bag and hit him right in the gut, "What the hell is the big idea telling them you're my husband?!"
"I-- Ooff!" Screed grunted as he was hit with the considerable weight, but when she reared back to take another swing, he stepped out of the way of the next duffel assault. Without a target, Tracy spun wildly and almost fell down the back steps, Screed had to move quick to catch her again.
He staggered down the three concrete steps, fumbling with Tracy's shifting weight as she tumbled backwards. When she realized he was trying to help, she froze, but that didn't actually help much. A few frantic seconds later they were at the bottom of the steps, Screed was crouched over slightly still holding on to Tracy, who was now on her hands and knees on the blacktop. He'd broken her fall considerably, but, alas, not managed to rescue her dignity, "Ya's okay Baby Jane?"
Tracy pushed his hands away and stood up swiftly, glaring at him. It was his fault she'd fallen in the first place and there was no way in hell she was going to thank him. "You're still a jerk." She growled.
"I suppose I am," Screed glared back, he'd just saved her neck and she was insulting him?! "But yer a trollop."
"What I am is an undercover cop investigating a double homicide," Tracy ground out quietly, "A cover you very nearly blew back there," Her voice got steadily stronger and louder as she continued, "When you told them I was your freakin' wife!"
"Oh, uh--" Screed took a step back as Tracy took another swing at him. "Sorry?"
After a few more attempted blows, only a few of which actually landed, Tracy calmed down enough to think things through rationally. This was her first sanctioned undercover assignment and a very dangerous one to boot, she couldn't afford to screw this up. And whether she liked it or not, Screed had just become part of her cover. "Come on," She sighed wearily, "You can walk me home."
"Uh," Screed blinked, confused by her sudden mood change, but happy she was no longer trying to end his days with her bag o' doom, "Okee dokee, I can do that."
Screed and Tracy walked in silence a few blocks, and the Cockney vampire was more than a little surprised when the blonde at his side suddenly turned and headed into a rather sad looking, run down apartment complex. He almost asked her about it, then realized that this too was probably part of her cover. He watched her swing open the front door of the building and walk in. He followed, since she hadn't said anything and he figured she was going to. Baby Jane didn't really strike him as the quiet type.
She led him down a short hall, then down flight of stairs to a basement apartment. Well, it was clean, it had that going for it... and that was about all. He watched Tracy toss her bag on the floor before stalking into the small kitchen and pulling a Coke^tm out of the 'fridge. She had the can half drained before she even looked at him. "Look Baby Jane," He began, "I'm awful sorry 'bout tha hubby-wifey thing, I didn't know nuthin' like tha' wuz up when I saws ya thare."
"It's okay," She sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly as she looked around the shabby apartment that had been her home for almost two weeks, and unless she solved this case, promised to be for a long time. "Actually," She gave Screed a speculative look, "You might be able to help."
"Wot ya 'ave in mind, luv?" Screed didn't like the look in her blue eyes one bit.
Tracy looked him over, as a vampire she didn't have to worry about Screed getting hurt. And he was already established as her soon-to-be ex-husband at the club, it'd look funny if they never saw or heard from him again... "Ever think of an exciting career in the law enforcement field?"

Later that night Screed sat at the Raven's bar nursing an over-priced burgundy. He still couldn't quite figure out how he'd let that golden bird convince him to play cops and robbers with her. Was he just a sucker for a pretty face or what?
Screed sighed as he held his glass up to the light, it looked the same as his usual fair, but it sure didn't taste the same. He grimaced and took another sip, wondering idly what Baby Jane would taste like. It'd serve the bird right if he did drain her.
She'd explained the 'case' to him. Seemed one of the strippers at his new favorite club and club patron had been killed just shy of two weeks ago. Christa Gamoe had been found in her apartment, her throat cut, while Steve Fusco had been found a block from Peccadillo's, gutted like a fish, one slash across his belly and another across his throat. Screed would bet it hadn't been a pretty site when all was said and done. And the coppers had set Baby Jane out like bait, he frowned, he didn't like that at all, not one bloomin' bit.
"Hey Sailor!" Vachon clapped him on the shoulder and took a seat next to him.
"Bloody 'ell," Screed started, glaring at his friend for making him jump. "Ya nearly scared ten years off me life!"
"Now that'd be a real shame," Vachon teased, "So what were you thinking about so seriously? Prices at PetCo on the rise?"
"Sot off," Screed mumbled before gulping down the last of his drink and motioning for another.
Vachon sat back and blinked, not sure what was going on in his oldest friend's bald head. After the bartender had left him and Screed with two more glasses he asked, "So what's with the new menu?"
"I 'ad a craving," The carouche shrugged, not going into any detail. He was sure Vachonetti wouldn't be able to sit idly by and let Baby Jane risk her sweet neck, even if it was her job. And if there was one thing ol' Screed had learned over his many years, it was to never instigate the Spaniard's boy-scout tendencies, things usually got ugly. Vachon just didn't seem to think things out before he acted. Gut reaction, charge in, kill 'em all, save the girl. God's honest truth he loved Vachon like a brother, but sometimes the man just pissed him off. To distract him, Screed asked, "So where es our luverly Ursula tanight, V-man?"
The dark hared vampire perked up visibly, "I'm meeting her after her shift." He smiled wolfishly, tracing a finger slowly around the lip of his wineglass before looking back up at him. "Should be an interesting night."
Screed snorted into his vino, loyalty never had been big in the V-man's make-up. And while it had never really bothered him before, at the moment it really rubbed Screed the wrong way. "Wot 'bouts yer Baby Jane?" He could have kicked himself right then and there for bringing her up. Why the hell had he done that?! "Jus' outta curiosity ya know."
The Spaniard gave him an odd look, then shrugged, "Tracy? I don't know, I haven't seen her in awhile... maybe I should--"
"No!" Even Screed looked surprised after he snapped out the reply. "I means, maybe ya should jus' give 'er some time-like." He looked at the bare-breasted painting behind the bar, trying to sound disinterested, "She's still gettin' used ta everythin' an all."
Another odd look, but then Vachon nodded, "Yeah, I suppose." He stood then, patting Screed on the shoulder as he stood, "Well, Urs'll be waiting. See ya around sailor."
Screed watched him go, finally raising his glass in a silent salute as his friend left the club with an arm draped over the former dance hall girl. "Over 500 years ol' an' still thinkin' wit 'is bits an' pieces. Bloody wanker."

Tracy was just climbing out of the shower when she heard the knock at the door. Thinking Screed was back for some reason, or maybe Nick with some news on the case. Tracy quickly patted down with a towel before shrugging on her old terry cloth robe and heading for the door.
She hadn't seen her partner in awhile, for one thing he was supposed to stay away while she was in such deep cover, and for another... she didn't think her fastidiously neat partner cared much for her ultra-hot stripper digs. Tracy grimaced slightly as her bare feet crunched over the slightly crispy orange and brown shag carpet. Oh yeah, next time she went under cover she was definitely going to try for something on the other end of the scale. Maybe someone would need her to be a decadently rich and extravagant socialite? She could do her job and order room service at the same time! Well... it could happen! Tracy grinned wryly and pushed her entertaining musings away. She had to focus here.
There was another timid knock at the door just as she reached it. "Coming, coming, hold your horses." She mumbled as undid the chain.
She opened the door, but instead of Screed or one of her fellow officers, Tracy was confronted with a huge bouquet of daisies, orchids and carnations shoved in her face. "What the--?"
"These are for you!" A small man pulled back the flowers and beamed at her, his eyes dropped to her robe then. "Oh, I didn't mean to get you out of the shower..."
"Uh, that's okay," Tracy blinked a few times before recognizing the man as one of regulars from Peccadillo's. He always tipped big, and she'd thought he seemed harmless enough... but of course, that was before he showed up at her door uninvited at 3 in the morning. ...And her gun was in the bedroom over ten feet away, damn! To buy time, she took the flowers, "They're lovely Mr. ...?"
"Eugene, Eugene Dibble. I go to every one of your performances, you're just wonderful!" The man shifted nervously from one foot to another, shinning his shoe on the back of his pant leg. When Tracy didn't say anything, he continued. "I got your address from Candy, I hope you don't mind."
"Um, of course not," Tracy said finally. She stood in the doorway, making it clear that he could not come in. Could he be the killer? She eyed Dibble, speculatively. He could certainly have a knife hidden under his billowing brown trench coat. He was a short man, maybe 5'4", with a round face and body that proclaimed a fondness of processed cheese foods and Twinkies^TM. Mid-thirties, balding under a small round bowler, Dibble looked much too jolly to be a killer... but then again you could never really tell. "Candy you say?"
"Yes," Dibble's already florid face went even pinker, "Candy and I used to..." He looked down at his shiny loafers, "That is to say--"
"That's okay," Tracy raised a hand to halt his words, not really wanting to hear anymore. "I think I get the picture."
"But that's all in the past," Dibble beamed, then craned his neck to look around Tracy and into her apartment. "Is there anything I can do for you? Vacuum? Or maybe dust?" He asked eagerly.
Tracy's eyes widened, she suddenly realized why Candy had had anything to do with the little man... he had a cleaning fetish! She got the sudden image of Eugene Dibble vacuuming her living room... in a French maid's uniform... Tracy bit back the laugh and the shudder that were both warring to come out. "That's okay Mr. Dibble, not today. Besides... I have a service that comes in once a week."
"Oh," His little bow shaped mouth turned down in a frown, then he brightened again. "Are you working tomorrow?"
"Yep, 10 to 2, just like always." Tracy nodded, smelling the flowers. "These really are lovely."
"I saw them and thought of you." Dibble smiled and waited another moment before touching the brim of his hat, "Well fair Tracy, I shall see you tomorrow at Peccadillo's then. I bid you adieu."
Tracy smiled politely and waved, "Good night Eugene."
As the small, round man walked off with a jaunty spring in his step, whistling Cole Porter's 'Let's Do It, Let's Fall in Love' as he went, Tracy closed and locked her door. "Well," Bringing the flowers to her nose once again, she inhaled their light fragrance before going off to search for a vase in her cramped kitchenette. "That was certainly interesting."
She pulled a plastic Big Gulp mug from her cupboard, the only thing really tall and wide enough to hold the profusion of blooms. As she filled the cup she grabbed the phone and dialed a familiar number, "Hey, its Tracy, just checking in. Guess what just happened?"
"You've decided to quit the force and take up stripping full-time?"
She could hear the smile in her partner's voice and was very glad this was a secure line, otherwise he would have just blown her cover big time. "Ha ha, yuck it up paperwork boy." She grinned evilly, one of the best perks of this assignment was the fact that Nick had to deal with all the paperwork.
"Ouch, wounded to the quick." Nick's laugh was a lot less spirited this time, he did not like being tied to his desk.
"Aw, poor baby!" Tracy smiled, then asked sincerely, "How's the leg?"
"Oh just peachy," Nick sighed dramatically, eyeing the cast that encased his right leg from ankle to hip. If not for it he could at least be out watching his partner's back. But no, not three weeks ago, right in front of the precinct, a perp had somehow managed to escape custody and hot wire a squad car. He hadn't gotten ten feet before he was re-captured, but unfortunately, Nick had been standing in those ten feet. His leg had been shattered as the bumper struck his knee, and while in reality it hadn't taken Nick long to heal... half the precinct had seen him hit. Nick frowned as he slowly slid a ruler into the cast, trying to get at the spot just above his knee. Nat had told him point blank that he'd have to wear the cast for a reasonable length of time to waylay suspicion. And like a fool he'd agreed... he'd agreed before he'd known how much the damn thing was going to itch! "So what's up? You okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, nothing like that," Tracy assured him. She paused for a moment, wondering if she should tell him about the whole Screed development. She chewed her lip, then decided against it. She couldn't really explain why she was going to let Screed help her without explaining that the civilian was in no danger from the killer, and she couldn't do that without bringing the Enforcers in on both her and Nick's butts. Tracy sighed, she still wasn't too comfortable about keeping things from her partner. True theirs wasn't exactly the closest of partnerships, what with her trying to keep Vachon and the knowledge of vampires from him and Nick's, well, what ever the hell Nick's deal was, but still she kept hoping...
"Trace?"
"Uh, yeah," Tracy wrenched her thoughts away from Screed and her own lack-luster people skills and turned her attention back to the case, "I need you to do a background check on a Eugene Dibble, he showed up here a few minutes ago. Brought flowers."
"At your apartment? Flowers?"
"Yeah," Tracy finished filling the oversized glass with water and dumped the bouquet in, setting the whole thing in the center of her small olive green vinyl counter top. "Apparently he was having a... well, he had something going on with Candy and she probably got tired of him so he's moved on to me."
"Something going on?" Nick repeated with a chuckle, amused by her inhibitions, especially given her current cover, "Can't you even say 'sex' Trace?"
"No Nick, I can say 'sex.' Can you say 'wash and wax'?" Tracy quipped.
"Huh?"
"Never mind," Tracy blushed, "Just do the check okay?"
"Your wish is my command 'Tempting Tracy,'" Nick grinned, pulling out the orange form he'd need. "And be careful."
"Aren't I always?" Tracy rolled her eyes, she really shouldn't have told him what the M.C. called her.
Tracy heard a snort over the line, "Need I remind you of your last undercover stint? With a certain escort service?"
"Yeah, well," Tracy idly rearranged the flowers, "Okay, so that won't win me the Cautious Cop of the Year award, but need I remind you who I learned from, hmm?"
There was a beat of silence and Tracy just knew she'd plunged her partner into another one of his fits. She sighed, "Nick, it was a joke."
"Yeah, I know," Nick answered back, subdued. "Just promise to be careful okay?"
"I promise Nick," She said quietly, "I'll talk to you later," Tracy's eyes lit up evilly then, "And Nick? Have fun with the paperwork!"
Nick started to sputter back a response, something involving a couple four letter words. Tracy just smiled and hung up, glad she'd restored his relative good humor... and gotten the last laugh!

"What's the big deal Trace? I thought you could use some fun." The ultra-blonde Candy, last name Cane, told her. She turned away from Tracy then and looked back into the mirror. "Besides, Eugene's a kick."
Leaning against the dressing room wall, Tracy tapped one of her silver stiletto heels with annoyance, "He met me in front before my shift and asked to clean my bathroom."
"So?" Candy attacked her hair with a pick and teased the mass even higher, "Let him. Beats doing it yourself."
"He wants to do it with his toothbrush." Tracy explained. "Not an old toothbrush, but the one he uses."
That gave Candy a pause, then she shrugged her perfectly tanned shoulders, "Well, he won't touch you, he isn't into that. Just cleaning. It's really great."
"If he's so great why don't you let him in your place anymore?" Tracy asked pointedly.
"The ex is back," Candy met Tracy's eyes and grinned guiltily, "I just can't seem to say to 'no' to my Italian Stallion. He came back and said he wanted to reconcile."
"And you took him back?" Tracy asked with a raised eyebrow, for the past week she'd heard nothing from Candy other than how much she'd like to see her 'Stallion' gelded.
"Well," Candy looked down and adjusted her ample cleavage before getting ready to go on stage, "Tony showed up in this black mesh shirt. You know the kind you can see through?"
"So you two spent the other night 'reconciling' huh?" Tracy laughed.
"Reconciling like bunnies," Candy grinned.
Murray stuck his head in then, "Candy, you're up next."
"Oops, gotta run Trace," The self-proclaimed Barbie-wannabe jumped to her heeled feet, tottered for a second, and then headed out, "After my set we'll talk more."
"After your set you'll entertain the customers," Murray corrected, even as Candy ignored him as she rushed to the stage, "I run a gentleman's club, not a beauty parlor. You girls can talk on your off hours." He continued in a long-suffering martyr's voice.
Tracy slid into the vacated seat in front of the mirror, "Just keep tellin' yourself that Murray and maybe someday it'll really happen." She smiled cheekily as she brushed on some rouge.
The club owner sent her a withering glare and then wandered off doing his best Rodney Dangerfield, "I tell ya, I can't get no respect!"
As Murray left, Angel and Jesse came in. Tracy glanced up, "Hi guys. You just getting here?"
"Yeah, I am." Jesse told her, pulling her baseball cap off and running her hand through her buzzed black hair. She walked over to her locker and threw it open to reveal a wide assortment of wigs. "So what shall it be tonight?" She held up a long black wig and a curly blonde one, "Whatcha think Trace?"
"I like the blonde one," Angel piped up, shooting a look Tracy's way.
Tracy shrugged, "I like the pink one you wore Wednesday."
"Pink it is," Jesse grinned, turning back to her locker, "That's always been my favorite too."
Tracy smiled and turned back to the mirror, her set was next and she had to hurry it up. "Did you happen to look? Is it a good crowd?"
"Yeah, pretty good," Angel plopped herself down on the counter next to Tracy and grabbed an eyeliner. "Here, let me do something real quick."
Tracy turned her head and let Angel trace her eyes with the black kohl, "Any prospects?"
"Well you can have Seth," Angel's pink painted lip curled up in a sneer, "He's out there."
"Ouch," Tracy winced back as Angel accidentally poked her in the eye. "Watch it will ya?"
"Sorry," Angel grabbed her chin and set to work on the other eye.
"I don't see why you two don't like Seth," Jesse said, pulling on the powder pink wig and fastening it with a dozen bobby pins, "So he's a little rough 'round the edges..."
"He's a boozer and a Grade A asshole. And I should know, I dated him for nearly 3 months." Angel griped.
Tracy raised an eyebrow at that. Seth was the club's version of 'big-man-on-campus' the former pro-hockey player practically ruled the rowdy element of Peccadillo's, this was the first time she'd heard Angel mention having dated him. "Really?"
"No not really," Jesse pressed her way in to get some mirror space, "Angel says she 'dated' everyone she has a one night screw with."
"I didn't sleep with Seth," Angel huffed, throwing the eye liner down, "You're done Trace." And with that she grabbed her costume bag and headed towards the bathroom.
"Whoa," Jesse said, meeting Tracy's eyes in the mirror, "Touchy."
"Yeah," The blonde nodded, Jesse had definitely hit a nerve.
"So you think I should wear the green?" Jesse held up a rip away gown and looked up for Tracy's opinion.
"Um," Tracy was still staring off after Angel. "You sure she'll be okay?"
"Who, Angel?" Jesse looked up, her brown eyes clouded with confusion for a moment, "Sure. Now about my dress?"
Tracy suppressed a sigh, she couldn't care less what Jesse wore. "The green's good."
Jesse frowned slightly, "Maybe the blue?"
The crown of Murray's comb over popped back in, "Tracy, you're on in 5."
"Kay," Tracy stood and adjusted her silver bikini and slipped on the slightly transparent silver over-dress. "Talk to you later Jess."
"Oh yeah," The dancer laughingly called after her, "Leave me here with a life and death decision like this!"
"I'm sure you'll manage!" Tracy yelled back, seconds before stepping on stage, "And besides, I picked the wig didn't I?"

Screed leaned up against the bar and idly chatted with the bartender, Jake Shirr. He was trying to ascertain if the cheerful fellow could possibly be the killer. He didn't think so, Jake was far too amiable to have murdered anyone with a slash across the throat. In his experience happy people usually throttled their victims... or poisoned them, Screed looked down at the beer he held, then shrugged and took another gulp.
"So, wot's tha word 'bouts those two dead 'uns?" Screed asked, "Tha bird and tha bugger wot gots killed?"
"Christa and Steve. Everyone was really broken up when they told us they were dead," Jake fidgeted a bit, obviously not relishing talking about the murders, but since he thought this was Tracy's husband, separated though they were, he figured the bald headed man was just looking out for his girl. "They were an item, everyone thought they were going to get hitched, ya know?"
Screed nodded, Tracy had mentioned something about that. "T'weren't found togets tho, tha' roight?"
"No," Jake looked down and polished the already gleaming bar, "Christa was in her apartment. Steve was in an alley about a block from here, up by Oak and Freedmont."
"Ya wouldn't know anythin' tha coppers don't? Would ya now?" Screed caught his eye and used what little powers he had to draw out the bartender's hidden thoughts.
"I told the cops everything I know," Jake answered curtly.
Screed sat back, biting back a sigh. As a carouche he never had been too good at that. And now the bartender was glaring at him... great. Baby Jane was gonna have his head on a platter if he'd just managed to screw something up. And after he got all duded up for her too. He sighed and decided to change the subject. "So when's my bird come on?"
"Trace, should be up next." Jake looked up at the stage, where Candy was just finishing up her set to Aqua's 'Barbie Girl.' He sent a leer Screed's way, apparently no longer out of sorts with him, "And I think tonight is her slow one."
"Slow 'un?" The English vamp repeated, raising a brow. "Tha' a good thin' is it?"
"Oh yeah," Jake continued, "Trace doesn't like doin' them, but she's great at the slow numbers. Real hot."
"I wouldna doubt it," Screed nodded, trying to get into his part as the blonde's hubby.
"You gonna get up by the stage?" Jake's dark face split into a huge lecherous grin, "Better view."
"Nah, I'll just keep me peepers on 'er from 'ere." Screed shrugged, "I 'ave seen it all befer a'ter all."
Jake gave him a somewhat disbelieving look. "It's one thing to see them, it's another to see 'em dance."
"I suppose," Screed tried to look bored, even as he felt the butterflies come to life in his stomach as he turned to the stage. He almost laughed at himself, he was getting way too caught up in this little game Baby Jane had dragged him into. Sure it'd be fun to see the bird in her birthday suit, but it's not like he hadn't see countless bare luverlies in his 450 years on God's green Earth. He chucked as his Mr. Tom jumped to life at the sound of her name being called. He t'weren't no better than Vachonetti was he?
A hush came over the crowd just as she was about to step on stage, and then there she was. Glowing under the lights of a simulated full moon. She was so beautiful his breath caught, and when she began to sway to the music Screed felt his heart give a painful double beat.

Tracy grimaced as the lighting went from the bright yellows and pinks of Candy's fast set to the dark blue of hers. God she hated doing slow numbers, but Murray had insisted on at least one per week. At least with fast music she could almost completely tune out the crowd, but with the slower ones she actually had to look at them. Sighing, she readied herself, waiting for U2's haunting 'One' to begin. It was hardly the slowest of songs, but compared to her usual fair it was practically lethargic.
She stepped out on stage, tilting back her face to catch the strangely paradoxical heat of the blue light. She closed her eyes and began to dance, moving in perfect time with the music, interpreting the heart-rending words with the sway of her body. When she opened her eyes she found the crowd watching, transfixed. Their money was out, but they wouldn't put it on the stage until the set was over, like a snake hypnotized by the sway of a charmer, they sat silent and still as she danced. Tracy tried to lose herself in the music, to ignore the audience. She hated the slow songs, the looks of longing it brought to the faces of the men watching her. Out and out rowdy lust she could deal with, but this, this just left her feeling empty.
Slowly she looked over the crowd, carefully avoiding eye contact. Then, when her eyes landed on the bar she spotted Screed. Dressed eccentricly as always, this time in shiny black vinyl pants and a loose dark red cable knit sweater, Screed was looking at her like she'd sprouted another head and was juggling chipmunks. He looked surprised... and vaguely alarmed. Tracy bit back a grin, it didn't even occur to her that Screed was shocked by his own almost over-powering reaction to her, she just thought he was floored by a cop shimmying in a silver bikini. She caught his eyes and sent him a small smile, slipping down to her knees and leaning forward, she curled a finger to call him to her.
Forgetting what he'd said to Jake just seconds ago, Screed set his beer down and walked slowly towards Tracy. She had risen back to her feet and continued to dance, but her eyes were still for him alone.
Tracy felt better, having someone to focus on while she danced seemed to make all the difference. She didn't feel empty or dirty anymore, no, now she felt devilishly naughty. Her smile took on an impish quality as she continued her slow tease, stripping off the over-dress and slipping into a slow circle around the pole. When Screed reached the side of the stage, she kept one hand on the middle of the pole and arched over backwards, her face even with his... though upside down.
"Hiya Baby." He smiled.
Tracy's eyes widened. She had the sudden and ridiculous urge to kiss him. Which was totally against policy and would get her into heaps of trouble with Murray, but more than that, shocked the hell out of her. She actually wanted to kiss Screed! What the hell was wrong with her?!
Screed caught the scared look in her eyes and frowned, "Wot is it?" He whispered, concerned.
Suddenly the music shifted, and her carefully arranged lighting switched to Candy's pink and yellow... bouncing off a disco ball. "Boogie Oogie oogie!" Disco music blared to psychedelic life. Tracy nearly lost her balance and fell, Screed caught her shoulder and with a quick push sent her back to her feet.
Just off stage Candy's boisterous laughter cut through the shocked silence. "Gotcha Trace!"
The room erupted in laughter as the disco music played on and they caught a look at Tracy's face before she too dissolved into a fit of giggles.
"Candy!" Murray yelled from across the club, then catching sight of her accomplice added, "Et tu Chad?"
But it was obvious from the crowd's cheers and, more importantly, big tips, that the prank was well received. Tracy smiled wryly and good-naturally did all the disco steps she knew before chasing Candy back stage with a mock cry of vengeance.
The crowd was still laughing and ordering rounds when the house lights came back on. But Screed still stood there, shaken by what he'd felt when he'd met Tracy's eye. Never had a bird effected him like that, it wasn't quite lust it was more like... Screed's eyes widened, "Oh bloody 'ell! I'm in luv!"

Tracy launched herself after Candy and the two rocketed down the back hall. But despite Candy's five-inch platform heels, Ms. Cane still beat Tracy to the dressing room and managed to slam the door, laughing wildly. "I'll get you Candy! Just wait!" Tracy called through the door, laughing as she pretended to try and break it down.
"Not by the hair of my chinny-chin chin!" Candy taunted back in her best 3 little pig's voice. "Oh wait! Ack! Where are my tweezers?!"
Tracy laughed and, shaking her head, turned to head back to the club floor. She made a mental note to start looking where she was going when she ran smack into Jesse. "Oof, sorry 'bout that."
"Did you get her?" Jesse asked, obviously ticked off.
"Candy?" Tracy frowned, not really sure why Jesse was so angry, the prank had been on her after all.
"Yeah," Jesse growled, "If she tried something like that on me I'd rip her hair out at the roots."
"I thought it was kinda funny actually," Tracy shrugged. "No harm done."
"You're too nice," Jesse dragged her unnaturally blue contacted eyes away from the locked dressing room and fixed them on Tracy. "Ya know, you really are too smart to be working here. With your brains you should have your own place."
"Well, ya know." Tracy shrugged, uncomfortable under Jesse's slightly adoring gaze, "What can I say? I'm a slacker."
"Yeah, I guess," Jesse stared at her a moment longer before taking a step backwards, "I'm up next."
Tracy's eyes flicked up the steps that led to the stage, from the floor she could hear Murray announcing her, "Better hurry."
"Yeah, I'm going now," And with that, Jesse turned and trotted up the steps.
Tracy stood there a moment, unsure what exactly that had been about. "O-kay." She breathed out, turning to look up the hall. The door to the employee's bathroom was still shut, was Angel still in there? She decided to go and investigate. Pausing to take off her heels, Tracy padded down the hall and knocked softly on the door, "Angel? You in there?"
A muffled something, could have been a 'yeah' came back at her. "Can I come in?" Tracy waited until she heard another almost 'yeah,' and twisted the knob. It wasn't locked. Walking in she found Angel planted fully dressed on the floor, a trail of toilet paper stretched from the roll to a ball in her hand, she used it to wipe away the tears. Tracy quickly shut the door behind her and moved to kneel down beside her. "Oh Angel! What's the matter?"
"Nothin'," Angel blew her red nose into the paper and then wiped her eyes again, grabbing some more paper. "Jesse didn't mean anything, she was just shooting her mouth off again."
Tracy frowned, trying to remember what Jesse had said. "Is this about Seth?" As a fresh wave of tears over came the red-head Tracy had her answer. "What happened huh? It'll make you feel better if you talk about it."
"He said it was over, and I was okay with it," Angel looked up at her with puffy eyes, "'Cause he said he was goin' back to his wife, ya know?"
"But he didn't?" Tracy guessed, sliding down beside her.
"No," Angel gasped, rubbing her face with some more toilet paper, the roll was almost gone now. "He's seein' some tart that works at the Metro Zoo."
"The Zoo?" Tracy echoed.
"Yeah, in the reptile house," Angel sniffed, "Makes some sense huh? I mean, Seth is a snake!" She launched herself into Tracy's arms, sobbing again.
Tracy awkwardly patted her back, "There, there, it'll be okay."
"There just is no such thing as a really happy couple," Angel said in a small voice, "They just don't exist. That's why I can't find anybody."
"Yeah, maybe," Tracy winced as she felt Angel rub her nose against her shoulder... she could feel the wetness through her gauzy over-dress, "I know my folks sure didn't make it."
"Even Christa and Steve!" Angel invoked the slain couple's names, "They were happy and look what happened to them!"
Tracy froze, "You think they died because they were a couple?"
Angel was still a moment, then shrugged and sat up, "No, not because of that." She leaned back against the cracked tile of the bathroom wall, wiping her face one more time. "Ya know, I've never had a relationship go over 6 months."
Tracy snorted back a humorless laugh, thinking about her own pathetic love-life, "Yeah, me neither."
"What about you and Screed?" Angel asked curiously, "I thought you guys looked like you were on the mends."
"Uh," Tracy silently kicked herself, she was supposed to be undercover here! "There is no way I'm getting back with Screed." She said firmly.
"See? It never lasts." Angel nodded, absently. "Seth and me, you and Screed, Candy and Tony, it never lasts."
"Actually, Candy and Tony are reconciling, at least for the moment." Tracy told her in a tired sigh. "I think I'm gonna head back, Angel. You'll be okay?"
"Yeah," The red-head answered back distractedly, lost in thought, she climbed to her feet with Tracy. "I'll be fine now. Thanks Trace."
"Don't worry kiddo," Tracy smiled at her, giving her fellow dancer an impulsive hug, "Things will look up, you'll see."
"Yeah," Angel smiled sadly, "They have to, right?"
Tracy nodded and left Angel to clean up.
"Hey. You gettin' Screed to walk you home again tonight?" Angel asked just as Tracy was pulling the door open to leave.
"Yeah," Tracy said, annoyed to feel a blush stealing across her cheeks, "I mean, I suppose."
Angel chuckled, "Well, maybe I was wrong about there being no happy couples."
Tracy sent her a playful glared, "Just wash your face." As she shut the door she could still hear the stripper laughing.
Resigned to a full shift, Tracy pulled back on her heels and walked back into the club. Immediately she found herself looking around for Screed. She spotted him near the bar and headed off his way when someone big and burley stepped right in her way. "Hey gorgeous."
"Hi Seth," Tracy answered back with all the enthusiasm of a dental patient, "Having a good time tonight?"
"Yeah," The former hockey player sent a look towards the stage where Jesse still gyrated in time to Toni Basil's 'Mickey,' then looked back down at her, "Could be having a better one though..."
Tracy jerked back when he made a move to touch her face, "No touch policy, house rules."
"Rules are made to be broken," Seth grinned through perfectly capped teeth.
"So are bones." Chad walked up behind the former right winger and glowered down at him. The bouncer was huge, dwarfing even the impressive Seth.
"I didn't mean nothing," Seth told him, holding up his hands, "No worries man."
"Why don'ts ya jus' scoot outta 'ere now, bucko?" Screed popped up next to Chad, glaring at Seth with undisguised anger, "An' leave our Trace alone then?"
Seth glared down at him, planning on making the smaller, slighter man crawl away like the bug he was. But after only a moment of looking into Screed's smoldering green eyes it was Seth who took the involuntary step back. There was just something... menacing about the man's gaze. "No worries. I-- I think I'll call it a night, it's late and the wife... ya know."
Tracy sighed with relief after they watched Seth slink out of the club. "Thanks guys, that was great."
"No problem Trace," Chad winked, "That's why I make the big bucks."
Once Chad headed off to get the climber off the stage, Screed and Tracy were left relatively alone. An awkward silence descended.
"So..." Tracy rocked back on her heels.
"So..." Screed licked his lips nervously, trying to think of something witty to say.
"I better get back to work," Tracy said suddenly, waving her hand to indicate 'her' - 'going' - 'to work.' "I get off soon, will you be here?" She looked shyly up at him through her bangs, "Walk me home again?"
Screed sucked in a breath and just nodded when Tracy smiled at him.
"Great," Tracy's grin went up several watts and she touched his arm as she headed past him towards where Chad and Murray stood. Screed felt the jolt from that small touch through his whole body.
"Yeah, bleedin' great," Screed whispered, watching her walk away and wondering just how he'd gotten into a situation like this? He'd almost killed that bloke for bothering his Baby Jane and... and when the bloody hell had he started thinking of her as 'his?!' "Crimey."
Screed was still cursing himself when out of the corner of his eye he saw a blonde woman walk into the club. Knowing that the dancers always came from the back, Screed turned to look and was shocked to his socks to see it was Urs! "Cor, isn't this is all I needs?" He mumbled, following his Crew mate to the bar.
Urs paused, looking for someone in charge, and when she felt the presence of another of her kind she turned. "Screed?" She looked the carouche up and down, he looked different somehow. Good, but not like he had for the last thirty years. He was clean for one thing. She looked at the outfit he had on and her eyes widened. He was nearly... stylish! "Screed?!" She repeated incredulously.
"Yeah. Oo else da ya know oo's as 'andsome as yers truly?" Screed grabbed her arm and led her to the end of the bar where their whispered conversation wouldn't be over heard. "What's ya doin' 'ere Ursula?"
"Looking for a job," Urs said slowly, as if talking to a small child... or a crazy person. "I heard they were hiring, thought it'd be better than the Raven."
"Thought ya liked it there." Screed said, his mind going a mile a minute as he tried to think of a way to get her out of Peccadillo's before she saw anything she shouldn't.
"The place is getting old, plus the General is just plain weird." She shrugged, then gave Screed a meaningful look, "Though I've met a lot--"
"Ya don'ts want ta work 'ere Ursula," Screed cut her off. "Trusts me,"
"I'm supposed to meet the owner, Mu--"
"Murray Synder, yeah, yeah," Screed nodded, "Listen bird, ya don'ts wanna work fer 'im, or 'ere at alls fer that matter. Why don'ts ya jus' toddle on back ta yer Raven an--"
"Hey Screed?" Chad walked up to where the object of one of his favorite dancer's affection was talking to some other woman and glared down at him angrily, "Your wife is waiting for you."
"His wife?!" Urs eyes nearly popped out of her head.
"Yeah, his wife," The bouncer repeated coldly, then with a jerk of his thumb indicated the blonde, now dressed casually in a strappy red sundress, leaning against a door that read 'employees only.' She was talking to another dancer, this one in a bright pink baby doll and comically high heels.
Urs instantly recognized the blonde as being Tracy Vetter, a cop. It only took her a second longer to realize that Tracy must be doing some sort of Cagney and Lacy undercover thing. Though what the hell that had to do with Screed, she hadn't a clue. She looked back at Screed, who was looking at her with an expression of total terror. What? Did he think she was going to do? Blow her cover or something? Urs snorted, not likely. "I think I'll head back to the Raven then," She gave Screed one last look, "At least there I know the people are at least halfway sane." And with that last jibe, the former dance hall girl blew him a kiss and left the club.
Once she'd gone, Screed leaned heavily back against the bar and seriously considered ordering a drink. Chad continued glaring at him disapprovingly for a minute longer, then wandered off to check on the bachelor party in the back. Screed frowned and looked down at the beer stained floorboards, that'd been a close one.
"Ready to go?"
Screed looked up into Tracy's smiling face and felt his heart chug to a stop. God but he was a pathetic puppy wasn't he? "Yeah luv, I'm ready," He smiled back and took her hand. "Lets get a goin'."
They went down the back hall, their joined hands swinging between them. Murray and Candy waved as they pushed open the door and stepped outside into the warm June night air. Once the door had shut behind them, Screed paused a moment, just savoring the night.
"Was that Urs I saw?" Tracy asked, skipping lightly down the steps and into the parking lot.
Screed cracked his eyes open, watching Tracy kick a piece of loose gravel into the shadows. She sounded as if she were asking out of idle curiosity, but he was starting to learn that this bird's mind was always bit and piecing the clues together. She was one smart cookie his Baby Jane was. "Yeah, t'was 'er."
"What'd she want?" Again, idly curious as she walked, balancing, along one of the cement curbs at the head of a parking spot.
He smiled to himself, she really was good at this. There weren't many who'd pick up on the tenseness of her shoulders while she pretended to pay more attention to the tips of her sandals than to waiting for his answer. Fewer still who'd notice the way her pulse had quickened as his silence stretched on. "She wuz lookin' fer a job," When Tracy looked up at him he shrugged, "I told 'er ta look elsewheres."
Tracy was perfectly still for a moment, thinking that over. "That's probably good."
"I thought so," Screed answered lightly, walking down the steps to stand next to her as she continued to balance on the curbing, this time on her right leg. "Ya know, this es sorta nice."
"Yeah, not too hot, not too cold, just right," Tracy smiled and looked around the car filled parking lot, before turning to him. Since she was still on the curb, she was taller, "You know, you have a nice shaped head."
"Stop it, yer gonna make me blush," Screed cracked wryly, reaching up and putting his hands lightly on her waist, holding her up on the curb.
"No, I'm serious," Tracy smiled, "Lots of guys can't do the no hair thing. They shave their heads and discover they look awful... then spend the next three months in hats." She continued as if she were giving a lesson, unconsciously leaning into Screed's arms, "But you, you've got a good shaped head."
"Welly-well," Screed chuckled, "I'm glad ya approve. I can die 'appy now."
Tracy grinned and dragged her eyes away from his head to meet his eyes. They shared a smile and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to kiss. So they did. His lips were firm and soft at the same time, it was... nice. Hell, it was more than nice, it was wonderful. Tracy sighed happily and cuddled closer in his arms.
Screed couldn't believe she was kissing him. And that he was kissing Baby Jane! A mortal, a mortal copper! But then at the same time, at that moment, he couldn't imagine not kissing her. When she pressed closer, he lifted her off the curb and set her feet on the ground. She was perfect, and he knew right then and there that he was a goner. Adios sailor, goin' down for the third time, drownin' in love. Regretfully Screed broke the kiss and pressed a chaste kiss on her forehead, "Come on now, I'll walk ya 'ome. It's gettin' roight late."
"Okay," Tracy smiled, blushing slightly as she reclaimed his hand and they set off in the direction of her apartment.
They were so lost in each other that neither noticed when someone cracked open the club's back door, watching them. A match flared to life, was touched to a cigarette, and a pair of eyes narrowed dangerously as the smoker watched the couple walk away.

Tracy walked hand in hand with Screed down the darkened street towards her apartment. She turned, studied his profile and couldn't help but smile. There was just something about him. True, he wasn't the world's most handsome man, he couldn't hold a candle to Bruce, Vachon or any of her past boyfriends... But then again, Screed had a lot of other things going for him. He was honest, loyal, and well, at the end of the day he made her feel safe.
Screed glanced her way and caught her staring, "Sumpthin' wrong?"
"No, everything's just peachy keen." She winked, laughing when he looked at her as if she'd lost her mind. She smiled and spun around for the sheer joy of it. Then, when he paused to watch her, she pushed the unsuspecting sailor against the cinder block wall of her building and kissed him quick and hard on the mouth. "Thanks for walking me home."
It took a second for Screed to recover, he stared at her wide eyed a moment before remembering to breath. "No problemo, any time Baby Jane."
Tracy stepped back, grinned and began fumbling around in her purse for her keys, "Walk me to work tomorrow? 9:30?"
"Yeah, o' course. Wild 'orses couldna keeps me away." He nodded, watching her wave and disappear into her building. "Wouldna miss it fer tha 'ole world."
Minutes past and Screed was still leaning against the wall where she'd pushed him. Where she'd kissed him. He raised his hand to his lips, she'd really done a number on him. "If I were a mortal I'd pro'bly be all pink an' swollen now." He mumbled, suddenly wishing he were, just so he'd have some proof that it'd really happened. He almost couldn't believe it... she'd kissed him, for no other reason than just to kiss him.
"What the hell?!" Tracy's shout of shock and surprise echoed through the thin walls. Without even thinking, Screed raced inside.
What he found made him stop cold. Tracy was standing in her open doorway, just staring towards the kitchen. Screed pushed his way past her and saw a short, stout man standing at her sink doing dishes... in the nude. "Sweet mutter o' me! Wot in 'igh 'eaven is--?" He trailed off, just opening and closing his mouth, completely speechless.
Tracy stood there shocked herself, but finally found her voice again, "Mr. Dibble! What are you doing here?!"
The round faced man turned and gave her a jovial smile, "Just your dishes, my sweet," He waved at her with one end of a frayed dish towel, then noticed Screed. "Oh, you have company."
Screed stepped in front of her, though to protect her from what he didn't know, it wasn't like the man could be carrying a concealed weapon... "I ain't company, I'm 'er 'usband! Who are you?"
Eugene's face fell, "Husband?" He looked to Tracy, "I thought you were divorced, Candy said--"
"Yeah well, paperwork ya know?" Tracy shoved her way past the irate rat catcher and strode up to Eugene, but not too close. "Look Mr. Clean, get dressed, then we're gonna have a little talk about just how you got in here."
The little man, who didn't seem to think there was anything at all wrong with standing before Tracy in only a pair of soapy yellow rubber gloves, smiled brightly, "Oh we can talk about it now. The door was unlocked, I was going to wait, but since it was open--"
"'E's roight Baby Jane," Screed piped up, "It's busted."
Tracy stalked over to see Screed fiddling with her front door, though the lock was set the knob still twisted, "Well, damn!"
"So you're not mad?" Eugene asked hopefully.
"'Ell yeah she's mad!" Screed stormed over, towering over the dish washer.
For the first time since they'd entered, Eugene tore his eyes off Tracy and took a good look at Screed. He looked him up and down, pausing a moment on the shiny vinyl pants before looking back up, "Say," He licked his lips, "You wouldn't need anything cleaned, would you?"
"No!" Screed took a step back and almost fell over a small step stool, Tracy rushed forward and stopped him mid stumble. "Thanks," He nodded before turning to glare at the clean freak once again, "Now, git dressed an' gits out!"
"Fine. No need to get all huffy!" Eugene slipped on his loafers and trench coat, apparently the only clothes he'd brought, and headed out. He paused in the door and looked back at Tracy and Screed, "See you at Peccadillo's!" Then... he flashed them, and ran out of the apartment.
"Baby Jane," Screed wiped a hand over his face, "I don't knows wot ta say, I-- Are you laughing?"
Tracy shook her head, then doubled over as silent laughs shook her entire body, "I can't help it!" She giggled madly, "You should have seen your face," She gasped for air, "When he asked--!" She gave up and just fell over, lying on her freshly vacuumed carpet, and laughing her head off.
Screed sank down and sat cross-legged beside her as she writhed on the ground snickering. She was on her back, her arms crossed over her belly, giggling down right evilly. "Yer a strange bird Tracy Vetter."
"Me?" She gasped, tears running down her face. She patted his knee, "Than I guess I'm jus' perfec' fer yer wife then ain't I?" She mimicked his accent perfectly and set herself into another cascade of giggles.
"Righto." Screed mumbled. He looked down at her hand, where it still sat on his knee, and swallowed audibly.
Tracy stopped giggling and looked at him inquisitively, "You okay?"
"I--" He looked down at her, her cheeks bright pink from laughter, dressed in red, all framed by that gawd-awful orange shag carpeting... Had there ever been a more beautiful sight? He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers, and to his surprise, she let him.
It was sweet, it was tender, it was-- *briiiinnnnggggg!* "Wot the--?" Screed jumped back as the shrill sound shattered the silence like a brick through a plate glass window.
Tracy sat up with a sigh, "It's the phone." She crawled over and pulled it off the counter. "Hello?"
To give her some privacy, Screed decided to get up and have a look around the apartment. His little self-guided tour didn't take long. In addition to the small front room and kitchenette, there was an even smaller bedroom and off that, a grimy, minuscule bathroom that reminded him a little too keenly of his old sailing days, he almost expected to feel the deck pitching beneath him.
"Oh my God." He could hear Tracy talking on the phone, she sounded upset. Screed moved closer, just around the hall corner from her.
"Yeah, I'll be right over. Have you picked up any--?" There was a pause, but try as he might he couldn't hear the other side of the conversation. Damn, he shouldn't have left the living room at all. "Okay, good. I'll be there in ten."
"Oo was that then?" Screed strode in casually just as she set down the receiver. "An' where ya hafta go?"
Tracy stood up on shaky legs, "That was the precinct. Candy's dead."
"'Ow did--?" He stopped, he knew Tracy had really liked that one, "Ya gonna be all right?"
"Yeah," Tracy gathered up her purse and keys, "Have to go report in."
"I'll come wit' ya."
"You don't have to, I'm a cop after all." Tracy glanced up, he looked determined. Well, she had just been admiring his loyalty. "All right, come on."
They rode to the precinct in silence, it wasn't until they were pulling into the visitor's lot that Tracy glanced at him and said, "Wait here, I'll be back."
"Nah, I'll come in wit ya."
"Screed," She put the car into park and shut off the engine, "And how would you like me to explain you to my partner and Captain, hmm? 'Hi guys, this is my estranged ex-husband, oh no, he doesn't have a record, or an address, or heck, even a full name, but hey, I like him!'"
"Simon, Simon Creed," He said quietly.
"What?" Tracy frowned in confusion, "Who--" Her eyes widened.
"'Tis my real moniker," He closed his eyes and leaned back in the passenger seat of the car the precinct had loaned her to go along with her cover... it smelled of cigarette smoke and stale French fries. "Tho' no un 'as called me by it in four 'undred odd years, nah since I wuz en shor' pants."
Tracy sat frozen in her spot, her hand was on the door handle to get out, but the rest of her was planted.
"In fact, I don't thin' there's a person alive 'oo knows me real name..." He opened his green eyes and looked at her, "'Cept now you do."
Tracy blinked, touched that he'd trusted her, "I'll be right back." And after a small smile, she darted out of the car and into the precinct.

"Vetter!" Captain Reese pulled her aside the second she entered the building.
"What's up?" Tracy readjusted her purse on her shoulder, somehow she felt naked without her holster. "Nick said they arrested Candy's husband, Tony Cancho?"
"Yeah, but he's picked up some sleazy lawyer," Reese led her down a hall to the interrogation rooms. "Looks like we're gonna have to release him for now."
"Why?"
Reese made a face, "Lack of evidence."
"Great, just great," Tracy felt like punching a wall, she settled for yanking on her purse strap again. "No tie to Christa and Steve?"
"None that we can find," Reese sighed, leading her into an observation room, the two-way mirror looked into number 6, where Nick was currently working his way through Peccadillo's staff, getting statements. "Jesse McCormick, seems hostile..."
"Yeah, always," Tracy hit the speaker button to listen in for a moment. Jesse knew more four-letter words than Webster, and was using them all on Nick. The dancer pulled off her wig and made a snide comment about her partner's cast... then insinuated that his leg might not be the only thing of Nick's that didn't work anymore. Tracy stifled a chuckle and let the button go, "That's just Jesse for you. You get used to her."
"Luckily, I don't have to," Reese turned away from the glass and tossed his detective a folder. "Ms. Candy Cane, real name Wanda Finklemyer, was found in an alley about a block from her place of employment."
"She worked tonight," Tracy commented, flipping through the harshly lit crime scene photos and swallowing as the bile raised in her throat. "Brutal."
"Yeah," Reese peered over her arm at a particularly grisly shot. "Nat Lambert couldn't find any signs of a sexual assault, though she pointed out that can't be ruled out as the motive." The Captain gave a weary sigh, "Sometimes I just don't understand what goes wrong in these people's heads. And I don't care how many times head-shrinkers explain it, you can't tell me it makes any sense."
Tracy nodded absently, narrowing her eyes and taking a closer look at her now deceased friend's body, "Throat slashed, just like the others."
"Yeah, which is why Tony Cancho's lawyer is so cocky," Reese grimaced, "Same MO as the others, but his client was out of town for those. He's alibied from here to kingdom come."
"And for tonight?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Tonight, Mr. Cancho says he was waiting for her at her apartment," Reese said slowly, not giving away if he believed his story or not. "Arresting officers say he was pretty broken up when he found out she was dead."
"Candy said they were reconciling," Tracy nodded, handing Reese back the folder. "So you'll hold him over night, release him in the morning?"
"Looks like we'll have to," Reese frowned, snapping the folder shut and tucking it under his arm. He looked back at the glass, Nick had finished up with Jesse and had moved on to Jake Shirr, the bartender. "And if it's not him... You're gut tellin' you anything?"
"My gut is without comment." Tracy shook her head, "But I'll keep trying."
"All right," He agreed. They made quick work of the rest of her debriefing, with Tracy filling him in on all she'd learned while undercover, finally Reese was satisfied and told her she could head home. "Go out through the front, and if anyone asks--"
"Yeah, I was brought in to make a statement just like everyone else," Tracy nodded, "I know the procedure."
"Good girl," For the first time all night, Reese smiled. Tracy was becoming one damn fine detective. "Just be careful out there."
"Righto, Cap." She gave a small wave and headed out.

Twenty minutes later, Tracy was back at her seedy little apartment, alone. Screed had driven back with her, they'd talked about the case for all of five minutes, then he'd left. It was almost dawn and he'd said he'd had to get home. Tracy tossed her purse in the general direction of her bedroom, kicked off her shoes and sank onto her drooping couch. She'd never thought she could be annoyed by an astrological body, but here she was, sending nasty thoughts at the sun. "Vetter," She chuckled humorlessly as she flipped on the TV, "You need professional help... and maybe some coffee."
She looked over at the kitchenette, and silently argued the merits of actually getting up to brew a pot verses staying on the couch and watching a rerun of 'The Price is Right' from the early seventies. Eventually, the coffee won out, due mostly to a convenient commercial break. "Folgers? Or do I celebrate these moments of my life?" She mumbled as she padded into the kitchen. She looked across the olive green vinyl counter top at the orange and brown living room and grabbed the Folgers.
Just as the first drops of precious java began to trickle down, there was a sharp knock on the door. A quick glance at her less-than-sun-proof curtains told her it couldn't be Screed... "So help me," She put down her still empty mug and went to answer it, "If it's Dibble again I'm gonna scream."
The knock sounded again, and she pulled open the door all set to let Eugene have it. But instead of the cleaning exhibitionist, Tracy discovered Angel, red eyed and crying in the hall.
"Did you hear?" The red-head hiccuped back a sob, "Candy's dead!"
"Yeah, I heard," Tracy opened the door and motioned her in, "How ya holding up?"
"Been better," The stripper gave her a watery smile and went to sit on the couch.
Tracy joined her, a muted Monty Hall still hawked wares on the TV but she turned him off. "You want some coffee? I just brewed a pot."
"No, thanks," Angel shook her head, "I just can't believe it, ya know? First Christa, now Candy..."
"Yeah," Tracy nodded, then, remembering her cover, added, "Did you have to go down town and make a statement too?"
"Uh huh," Angel wiped at her eyes, "That Detective Knight is pretty hunky huh? Too bad about the leg."
Tracy nodded, "I'm gonna grab some coffee, be right back."
"'Kay," Angel nodded, absently toying with the fringe of her leather jacket. "It's just so not fair, I mean, Candy was just starting to get back with Tony and was happy."
"I'm sure they'll catch the bastard who did it," Tracy called out from the kitchen as she dug for the packets of sugar she'd pilfered on her last visit to Denny's.
"Just goes to show," Angel continued, "There's no such thing as a happy couple. It never lasts."
"I don't know about that," Tracy sighed, Angel was obviously still hung up on her 'there's no such thing as love' kick. She frowned and gave up on finding the sugar, she'd drink it black. She needed caffeine and she needed it now! "Maybe there is if you find the right person." She suggested before taking a sip.
"Like you and Screed, huh?"
Tracy jumped as Angel's voice came from right behind her. She nearly choked on her coffee, "Whoa Angel, you don't sneak up on someone like that!" She laughed and turned, but Angel was not laughing.
"You think you're so much better than me," The red head snapped, "Just 'cause you have Screed and I'm alone."
"No, I don't think that." Tracy frowned, this was more than a little weird...
"Yes you do!" The stripper shrieked.
"Angel," Tracy took a step back, but hit the counter.
"But it won't last, it never lasts!" Suddenly Angel pulled a knife out from her jacket and lunged forward.
"Oh hell!" Tracy threw her steaming hot coffee in Angel's face and dove out of the way. The woman screamed in pain, but it only took her a second to shake it off and chase after Tracy again.
"You'll get yours!" Angel shrieked, slashing madly with the long butcher knife she wielded like a pro. "Just like Christa, just like Candy! You are not better than me!"
Tracy didn't bother to try and reason with her, Angel was long past that. She was trapped in the kitchenette, she couldn't get over the counter without Angel at least cutting her, and the stripper blocked the only way out. Tracy was backed against the wall, she looked around desperately, but there was nothing on the counter she could use as a weapon, no pans on the stove. Angel dove at her again, and Tracy swung open the refrigerator door and caught her square in the chest.
"Oof!" Angel grunted, "You bitch!" She shoved at the door and brought the knife down in a sweeping motion right at Tracy's head.
Moving just in time, Tracy kicked the step stool at Angel's feet.
"What the--?" The red head stumbled slightly, and for a brief moment her attention was diverted to the stool. It was long enough.
Tracy grabbed her arm and in less than an instant, had it twisted painfully behind the stripper's back. "Drop it!"
With her arm at the angle, the dancer couldn't help but comply, but she none-the-less kicked backward, trying to catch Tracy's legs. Luckily, the cop had more than enough training to avoid that, and with a quick series of movements, had Angel face down on the ground with her arms pinned behind.
Breathing hard, Tracy quickly called for back up, before using the phone cord to her up. "Well Angel, some things do last forever," Tracy stood up, looking down at the struggling serial killer.
"Oh yeah?" Angel spat, "Name one!"
"Oh, I don't know," Tracy poured herself another cup of coffee before settling down to wait for reinforcements, "How about...your prison sentence."

The next night, Tracy was back at the apartment, gratefully packing up the last of her stuff. "Finally, it's over!" She shot a smile at the guy she'd drafted to help her move the boxes.
"Yep, it's ov'r all righty," Screed agreed, picking up a crate.
"I feel like I'm waking up from a really bizarre dream," Tracy blew the bangs out of her eyes and hefted a bag of magazines. "You ever have that dream where you're in a crowded room and everyone seems to know what's going on except you? That's my last two weeks."
Screed smiled sadly. So it had all been a dream? One she was glad she'd woken up from he'd bet. Well, he'd known it couldn't last. Looking around the small depressing apartment, he asked. "Gonna miss anythin' 'bout this 'ere place? Being able ta walk ta work maybe?"
"That's about all I'll miss," Tracy wrinkled her nose at the brown water stain in the middle of the kitchen ceiling. "Though I might try walking to work from my real place, that is if..." She trailed off, looking away suddenly, "Never mind."
"No," Screed set down the crate and took the few steps across her living room to stand before her, clucking her chin, he made her look at him, "Wot were ya gonna say?"
"I was going to say," Tracy took a deep breath, "I'd try walking it if I had someone to walk with."
"Someone?" Screed almost couldn't believe where his mind was taking him. Surely she couldn't mean... she couldn't want to see him again, after the case was all done and over with? She couldn't--
"Only if that someone is you," She said quietly, almost fearfully.
A wide grin split his face, "Really? Ya means it?"
Tracy smiled back, laughing, "Yeah really!"
"Woohoo!" Screed whooped, grabbing the bag from her hands, he tossed it aside before pulling her into his arms. He then proceeded to kiss her soundly.
"So that's a yes?" She asked with a grin when they finally had to break apart for air.
"Ab-so-bloody-lutely!" Screed promised, "I'll walk ya e'ry night wit' out fail my luverly bride!"
Tracy laughed and kissed him again, "And to think, they said it couldn't last!"

END