Prince of Darkness ~ Gotham

~ Chapter Thirty Nine: Liar, Liar ~

The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as Jim and Harvey sat inside the coffee shop, pondering what to do next. It was a bitter pill for them to swallow. Their whole investigation had been turned upside down all because of some narcotics investigation. It was an unspoken rule in the GCPD that many refused to follow, and Jim was not ashamed to admit he broke this rule fairly regularly. You don't meddle in other people's affairs. Whether you're a detective, forensics, or part of the narcs, you don't insert yourself into other people's jobs and hijack the case. Flass and his crew were taking it to a whole new level, and if this kept up, their killer would disappear back into the streets and kill again.

"Listen, Jim, there's something I gotta tell you," Harvey sighed. "A few years ago, Flass and his people started busting drug dealers, taking over their stash houses, running them themselves," Jim looked up from his cup, surprised and annoyed that his partner had kept this detail from him for so long. "You're telling me this now?" Jim quirked a brow. "Look, I respond to crises as they arise. I'm not a forward planner like you. I didn't tell you then because I didn't want to get you all riled up, but I'm telling you now because I want you to stop," Harvey explained. "Flass is protected,"

"By who?" Jim asked. "Serious people. Really high up. Big money. For all I know, the commissioner gets a piece too. You mess with Flass, you can forget going back to Arkham. These guys do not play. Please, for your and Holly's sake, let it go," Harvey warned. But Jim wasn't a quitter, not when they were getting closer to unmasking the perp, and maybe with Flass running the stash houses, they'd find their next clue. "These stash houses, think you can get me a location on them?" Jim asked. "Did you not hear a word I just said?" Harvey looked exasperated.

"The stash houses could give us evidence linking Flass to Littlefield's murder. We nail him for Littlefield, we can nail him for Winkler," Jim planned. "I can't let it be, Harvey. You should know that by now," Harvey again opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out, just a quiet resigned sigh. He slowly nodded as he excused himself from the table and pulled out his phone. As Jim went up to the counter, Harvey got to work with pinpointing a location. 

"Mick, it's Harv. You know that thing you and Donnie were working on? The Flass thing? I need your help,"

~~~~~~~~~

A bit of yellow there, some pink over here. Holly's chest swelled with pride at her nearly completed masterpiece. While the main section of the painting was finished, it wasn't complete until Holly was completely satisfied. Her phone buzzed in her jeans pocket, and reluctantly, she set down her brush and answered it. Maybe it was her father checking in to make sure she got home safe, or maybe it was Bruce. But to her surprise, the Caller ID was someone completely different.

Greenfield.

How did she...? Holly briefly paused before answering. "H-hello?" She stammered. "Hey, Holly. I just again wanted to say thank you for what you and Cara did today," Natasha said, her voice happier, if not a tad chipper than earlier. "Hey, it's no problem at all. I've been there with the nasty gossip, and it sucks," Holly sat at the edge of her bed and laid down. "But this isn't the only reason why I'm calling you. Remember what I said about the contest?" Natasha chuckled.

"Which part?" Holly inquired. "The one where I admitted I never liked making it to begin with," Natasha clarified. "Uh-huh, and...?" Holly pressed on. "Let's just say starting tomorrow, there's no doubt in my mind who gonna win this year," Holly's eyes widened to the size of saucers. No way... Hold on, am I hearing things? Holly shot up from the bed and still clutching her phone, she tried not to sound surprised on Natasha's end. But she was failing miserably.