When the Bus Stopped

Alessandro couldn't believe his stupidity. After the last escapade with his leggy copper haired companion - nearly being shot at by some rednecks - with a bag of drugs badly concealed in her bra he'd quickly pulled the pin. He'd realized then and there that if she didn't get herself killed then she was most definitely going to get him on the front page of every tabloid the world over.

But he'd taken a look at that face, almost showing signs of defeat. Lucy had looked so broken and it had broken him... well his resolve at least. Her beautiful face swollen and reddened by excema, and those green eyes all but cracks. He couldn't let her go marching around the street begging, in that state, when she was so close to her goal. And if that meant lying to her for a couple more nights then that is what he would do. All he needed to do was remember to pop the child lock on his car doors so she couldn't go hurtling off anywhere and then his name and image would be protected. Although the incident by the river that morning had worried him. He only hoped that the cameraman was just some pervy stalker as Lucy had suspected.

There was just something about Miss Falkwell. She was the most confident woman he'd ever met. Marching around with her face swollen like she'd been attacked by bees with a swing in her step like she knew that she was more than that. Women like Lucy, he decided, rated themselves on more than just their face. He could tell that the reason she loved herself was because of her character not her appearance. She loved how capable she was, how single minded and determined she could be. That was why she couldn't take charity - because then she wouldn't feel like she could hold her shoulders back so proudly.

And for the first time Alessandro had to admit to himself that he was almost sure that Lucy wouldn't burn him if she knew who he was. Because that would be far too easy. Lucy Falkwell might be many things but being lazy wasn't one of them.

#

"So the perp is originally from the North Island. Married a blonde woman. Comes from a broken home, went to an all boys school." The two were seated in Daniello's batmobile outside Peter Giovanni's small cottage. Lucy, hands primly clutched on her lap, reciting all of the facts about the case.

"What? How do you know all of this?"

"Impressed much?" Lucy smirked in pride.

"I... yeah, I guess I'm impressed. How did you find out so much?"

"I got Krishna to show me how to use goggle-"

"Google?"

"Right. That is what I said. Google. And he found out everything he could on the man. With Goggle anyone can be a private detective."

"Great." Daniello shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Lucy watched him in interest. He seemed to be getting more and more awkward about her sudden involvement in the case. Did he not like women in charge? She'd met men like that before. "You feel uncomfortable about me knowing all of this?"

"No... no I think it is wonderful-"

"You hadn't thought of using Goggle - Google - yourself?"

"Err... no. We like to use other methods."

"Pfft. How is that working out for you?"

There was an awkward silence before Daniello kept talking. "You make a great stake out buddy. Listen, Lucy, I was hoping that while we were sitting here I could talk to you about something." He cleared his throat nervously. "I'm not sure how this is going to go down." He shifted about. "But - well-"

"Shhhhh!" Lucy held a hand up to silence him. "There he is now." They could see the short blonde man approach the window. "An obvious sufferer of short man's syndrome. I bet he has a temper on him." The short blonde man's equally short partner was scrubbing a big cast iron pot with a scourer before squirting an ample amount of detergent over the pan. "That is a no no," Lucy commented. "You shouldn't use detergent on cast iron. You've got to let that fatty scum just keep on building up. My dad has a cast iron pot that smells to the high heaven of fish, and boy you just want to scrape it off. I ate fish flavored crepes every Sunday throughout my childhood. Dis - gus - ting! Oh look! Shorty seems quite upset about her cleaning it too! Look! I can just imagine the tone he is using!"

"Well," Daniello was staring out the window opposite. "What do you know?"

"Oh look. Look at that! He is shaking her! You'll have to get out now and handcuff him before it gets serious."

"I can't. It would jeopardize the whole operation."

"I can hear her teeth rattling from here! Get that man in cuffs!"

"No, we have to wait and follow him. So he can lead us to the bodies."

"Oh." That sounded reasonable, Lucy decided. While she pondered on Daniello's idea her attention returned to the couple in the kitchen. "Look. He's a firecracker. Now he's yelling at her, and shoving her by the neck toward the oven. She'll get burnt!"

"He'll calm down."

"He isn't going to calm down Daniello! He is going to kill her!"

Daniello's face was a picture of abject horror. "I - just -"

Lucy lunged at the car door. "What the hell is wrong with this door? I think it must be jammed!" Without waiting she scrambled across Daniello's lap and lurched out of the car. Racing to the front door of the tiny cottage Lucy yanked on the door knob, nearly jerking the thing off its hinges. "What the HELL is going on in here?"