CHAPTER ONE (She Grows On A Person..Sorta Like Fungus)

Jim Brass walked the familiar steps of the Station House, his mind on the information he had jotted in his notebook earlier tonight.

He dodged a few passers-by, scribbling mental reminders along the sides of the margins.

The electronic eye swished the doors open a few steps before he entered the building, the din of noise grabbing his attention.

He scowled, taking in the scene.

People filled the lobby area, spilling over into adjacent rooms and corridors. He had stopped, attempting to push through the sea of humanity as he made his way to his office. It wasn't going to happen for a while, he sensed, having come up against a burly gentleman, who blocked his path.

"I ain't never comin back to this damned place!" The man was say..rather loudly. "A person can't even have a few drinks with a few friends without you cops bustin in and ruinin the party!"

Brass exchanged beleaguered looks with two of his fellow 'cops'. A few drinks? This guy smelled like a distillery. Brass' eyes were watering from the fumes.

"You're not in Kansas anymore, Toto." A sympathetic voice commiserated from off to his left. Jim searched the crowd, seeking the source, finding it in a pair of slightly amused, slightly..interested eyes.

Green eyes..lovely eyes..that set well in a pretty face..albeit, a heavily made-up one. Too heavily made up. The woman did not need the 'assistance' from all the blush and eyeliner in the man's opinion.

"At least, I haven't been bored." She brightened somewhat, as he had walked toward her, having nothing better to do until someone cleared a path for him. "Now.." She motioned for him to 'look'.. "That guy over there..the one with the loud tie? The neon green one?" She insisted on catching Brass up on the situation at hand. "He swears on the Holy Bible that he does not know that girl..Anne Marie? She's the one with the white teddy and pig tails? That's her 'specialty'.." She munched from her bag of pretzels, offering him one, which he refused politely. "Innocent school girl slash naughty but willing vixen."

She stopped for breath and to size him up. "What's YOUR preference, hot stuff? I am more than curious."

Before Jim could reply, Tom Harligan shoved through the crowd, catching the older man's attention. "Hey, Captain.."

"Captain." The woman repeated Brass' title, clearly impressed with his rank. "Ohhh."

"Where you want the 'eye witness'?" Tom had 'quoted' with his fingers, a sure sign to Brass that the person in question was not going to offer much in the way of assistance to anything 'seen'.

"Did you get anything out of him?" Jim ignored the woman, focusing his attention where it needed to be.

"Useful? Well..if we're after Batman? This guy can help. He saw a 'shadowy figure'.." Again the young man 'quoted' with his fingers. "Walking on the roof tops of a couple buildings over on Fremont."

"Was he dressed like a bat?" Brass played along, feeling the weight of the woman's stare, who blatantly listened in on the conversation.

"No, but he had a cape." Tom nodded knowingly, then seemed confused. "You talkin about the 'perp' or the 'eye witness'?"

The Captain sighed mentally. "Never mind..Room 2..you guys soften him up for me. Who are all these people?" He voiced his curiosity finally, motioning around them.

"There's a convention over at the New York, New York.. Things got a little out of hand." Tom supplied the information needed.

"This is Homicide..just how 'out of hand' did things get?" Brass was understandably concerned.

"We are remodeling, Captain..the main areas? We are getting the 'over-flow'..and don't think you won't hear about it from Sergeant Weyman." Tom could see the humor of it all, apparently.

Brass glanced behind him..the green eyes still observed him quietly. "...And..the hooker?"

She made an endearing face. "That's 'lady of the evening' to you, cute guy." She reprimanded scoldingly.

She had also 'quoted' with her fingers, just as Tom Harligan had done earlier to emphasize her point.

"Grissom wanted her brought in for questioning..he's on his way." Harligan dismissed the woman. "Don't kill the messenger, Captain."

Carlos Rivera arrived on the scene, having executed a rather descriptive gesture to an annoyed man who had been shoved aside that the detective could reach his destination. "We got all the particulars, Captain.. on the DB. Over off the 'business' district. CSI guys are on it." he handed the folder over to Brass' capable hands.

"What about your case, Captain?" Tom Harligan liked to keep abreast of the latest news. "Inquiring minds want to know."

"Domestic..apparently, the wife had had it 'up to here'" Jim Brass 'quoted' with his fingers..it seemed to be a trend tonight, after all. "With hubby and decided to cut his 'extra-curricular activities out..literally."

"Ohhhh." Tom winced with empathy.

"We have her in custody..he didn't survive the 'cut'." Brass made a long story short.

"We can top you." Carlos seemed proud of the fact. "We got a vampire."

"Thought you said it was 'Batman'." Jim was certain that's what they had said.

"Well, ours seems to be a hooker.." Carlos began the tale only to be interrupted.

"'Lady of the Evening." The woman firmly insisted from behind them.

All three males spared her a glance, summarily dismissing her in the next instance. "Female..caucasian, twenty-three..one..." Carlos consulted his note pad. "Margorie Ann Ames, formerly of Sheridon, North Carolina. Grissom had her identity before our coffee got cold. Guess he will want to fill you in on the gory details."

"Two puncture wounds to the jugular..body drained dry." Tom beat Grissom to the punch.

"Just like that Night Stalker episode where Kolchak chases the vampire through Vegas..remember?" 'Green Eyes' piped up excitedly. "That one put this city on the map, let me tell ya."

"Two things...one, that was a tv show..and 'b'? Ain't no such thing as 'vampires'." Harligan disdained not only the interruption but the concept.

"You're the one said it was a vampire." She reminded unnecessarily.

"Yeah, well..who asked you." Brass admired the younger man's witty repartee, narrowing his eyes at the exchange.

"Don't see you solving the case, Geek Boy." She did not seem as impressed with Harligan's abilities as his Captain had.

"It just happened and what would you know about it anyway..street walker woman."

"Hey." Brass felt the need for civility if nothing else, chastising the man with his tone and look.

"'Lady of the freakin evening'" she snapped. "I know this makes three, asshole." She had felt the need to chastise a little herself, apparently.

"..What?" Jim Brass' interest was caught and complete. "What did you say?"

"Nothing." She muttered dejectedly. "I ain't sayin nothin..I want a mouthpiece, Copper."

"And I want people to stop quoting 1940's movie dialog." Brass mentioned in passing. "Where were we?" He moved the conversation away from prying ears, smiling insincerely to the woman as he took his men to safer arenas. "Clear a path." he instructed his 'men'.

Carlos was a large man..and what Tom Harligan lacked in size, he made up for in 'attitude'. Jim stopped at the coffee machine, fishing for change in his pocket. "Check for similar deaths, all county..no..broaden the parameters. Anything 'hinky'..young women, same age bracket. See what we've missed."

"She said there was three." Carlos had picked up on the information as well. "The 'street' knows shit long before we get a whiff."

Brass punched his selection. "I want it checked out."

"On it, boss." Harligan left, heading for his desk and a phone.

"No Dbs yet." Carlos pointed out the obvious. "Someone dumped them and we are, as always, playing catch up."

"Hey, you wanted to 'Protect and Serve'." Brass shrugged. "Want some?"

"I'm trying to cut back." Carlos looked morose over the decision. "Ah, what the hell..yeah. Black..two sugars."

Brass dug for more change.

"What should I do with the hooker?" The man wanted to know. "Let her cool her six inch stilettoes for a few more hours?"

Brass grinned at the man's words. "I'll interview her."

"You get all the dirty jobs, Captain..why is that?"

Brass handed over the coffee. "Privileges of rank..sergeant...since the rooms seem to be 'booked'..I'll see her in my office."

"I don't have an office..I don't even have a cubicle."

"My heart bleeds." Brass was always there for his men.

He sauntered down the corridor, nodding his acknowledgment to a few acquaintances, his mind on the night ahead. At least it would not be dull. He liked activity.

It took only minutes before Rivera stuck his head in the opened door of the office, having tapped on the glass to get Brass' attention.

"Here you go, Captain." The man ushered in the woman with all due pomp and ceremony. "Ms. Cherry B. Good."

"The 'e' isn't silent." She corrected the over-sight instantly.

"Excuse me?" Brass queried.

"It's pronounced Goode..the 'e' isn't silent." She smiled pleasantly at both men.

"Have a seat, Ms..Goode." Jim indicated the one in front of his desk. He threw Rivera a 'gonna be one of those nights' looks. The man grinned in response, taking his leave.

The woman sat, folding her hands primly into her lap.

Brass flicked her apparel absently. The ridiculously short mini-skirt, an electric blue metallic top cropped to show off, not only her ample assets but a dangling diamond belly ring. "You are all shiny." He mentioned as way of an ice-breaker. "And..you have a run in your nylons."

She glanced at the large hole someone had deliberately torn in the black stockings. "It's a fashion statement." She explained.

"Yeah? What's it say?" Brass was curious. "I can't afford a good pair of nylons?"

She smiled patiently at him. "It's all Freudian you see. It implies..I have holes in my armor if you're man enough to..." She leaned provocatively forward, placing her arms along his desk top, showing her cleavage for inspection. "Push your way through."

"Oh, is that it." He nodded amicably. "So..Ms...Goode. How are you connected with our unfortunate murder victim exactly?"

"Angel Faye." She sighed heavily, sitting back, the game at an end for the time being. "We work the same corner..well, opposite ends, of course. She was very territorial, you know?" She wrinkled her cute little nose at him.

"Yeah..I know." Brass wrinkled his nose right back, assuring her, he did, indeed.. 'know' the way of things in her world. "Did you work the corner tonight?"

"A girl has to make a living."

"Did you have an opportunity to speak with Ms. Faye at all?"

"She was..busy. But, I kinda saw the guy..the one that she left with..before..well, you know. I got an 'impression'."

"You 'kinda' saw him..what's that mean?"

"Tall..six two..dark clothing, good fit. Expensive shoes, gold flashed on his hand when he touched her face." she seemed to be recalling. "Maybe a wedding band." She shrugged. "They were out of the street light but I got an impression of dark hair. He wore a hat. Fedora style. Stylish jacket cut three quarter's length..soft fabric on that..not leather. Immaculately creased slacks..also dark."

Brass was impressed. "An 'impression' you say."

"Like I said..no real light. They went into the alley together..I didn't hear a car engine."

"And that was the last time you saw her."

"I saw her dead."

"..You weren't close, I take it..from your rather detached demeanor, I mean." The man smiled to lessen the statement.

"Contrary to the movies..we aren't a close knit, sharing type of community."

"You said..to Detective Harligan.. 'I know this makes three.'" he reminded. "What does that mean?"

"Just what it implies. There have been three of us come up dead, just like Angel Faye..in less than two weeks."

"Can you elaborate?"

"I'm not supposed to say anything." She grimaced endearingly.

Rivera reappeared at the door, an unhappy look on his face. "Captain? Thought you might want to see this." He handed the paper over, casting the woman a nondescript glare as he passed, and another when he left. .

Jim perused the report patiently. "..It says here..Ms. Goode.." He lifted unamused eyes. "That you are Haley 'Sunshine' Meadows and that you work for..the Federal Bureau of Investigation."

"My mom was a hippie." She nodded happily. "I hate that name."

"You didn't feel the need to confide in me? I'm hurt."

"I like talking to you. If you had all the answers, what would you need me for?" She asked honestly. "I would never intentionally hurt you..unless you're into that sort of thing, of course."

Brass smiled politely. "What are you working on?"

"Ohh, you'd have to torture me for that answer." Her eyes sparked mischievously. "Or..at least spank me real hard."

He remained ..unmoved.

"It's a need to know basis?" She tried again.

"I need to know." His tone said..immediately.

"Now, you're getting cranky." She pouted. "If it's any consolation, my boss will be here any minute, hauling through that door all huffing and puffing and blustery. You two will get along famously! He can tell you anything you want to know! And I won't get into trouble."

She arose gracefully, coming around the desk, parking her ass on the edge. "You know..you're really ...really..a very 'hot' man! Has anyone told you that today?"

"The sergeant at the front desk."

"I saw you first..he'll have to take a number." She scolded superficially, once again leaning provocatively, one hand on the back of his chair, one on the arm. "Is there anything else you need though? Anything you..want?"

He lifted his eyes from the plumb, inviting sight of her cleavage spilling out over the lace of a pink bra. "Very nice." He kept his smile polite. "But..no, thank you."

"Oh, these old things?" She dismissed modestly. "I've had them for years. Now..don't be hasty with your answer. All work and no play makes one a very cranky individual."

"Get your ass off his desk!"

Brass jerked his head to the new arrival, the masculine voice like a splash of cold water after such a 'warm' moment.

The girl released a disgruntled breath, rolling her eyes expressively but..she stood, facing the new arrival with ill-concealed frustration. "Your timing sucks!"

"I'm sorry..eh.." The man looked at the name plate on the desk. "Captain Brass..is it?" He was older than Brass, grey hair styled without seeming to be so. Well dressed without the flash and a ready smile that reached the warmth of his steel grey eyes. He offered his hand which Brass took after arising from his seated position. "She's not really promiscuous..she just likes to play the part."

"I am too!" The girl barked. Then softened for Brass. "And I'm really..really good at it." She pursed her lips sensually for effect.

"I'm going to be speaking 'adult' for the next few minutes..go amuse yourself elsewhere. You're beginning to irritate me." The man was clearly the woman's supervisor.

"When do I not.." She wiggled her fingers, palm out. "Do I look like I have a secret hiding place in this outfit? I need chocolate!"

The man sighed heavily, fishing for change which he handed over reluctantly.

"Hello...a coke too? You cheap ass bastard."

The money was forthcoming. "Go play in the streets..I don't mean that literally. Just the 'traffic' areas..although, I see you're dressed for the role."

She swept Jim Brass' form intimately. "Will you miss me?"

"I won't..you know why?" The man answered for Jim. "I'm a real good shot."

"I never liked you." She snapped to the man, cutting her eyes to Brass again. She sighed forlornly, taking her leave.

She swished out of the room humming 'Strangers In The Night'.

"She really is a good agent..given what's out there today."

Brass turned his attention to the other occupant of the room.

"Vincent Duvalier..FBI." The introductions began. "I hear we have crossed collective paths..how can I help?"