..:ALL'S FAIR IN LOVE AND CRIME:..

After a peculiar morning, Inspector Zenigata entered the 60th Precinct sometime during the early hours of noon. A few heads turned in his direction as he walked purposefully, as many wondered about the disappearance of the greatly discussed Interpol-approved cop. Zenigata, however, did not notice, with his attention fully on his trek to where the files were stored. Similar to her coworkers, Foster noticed the man making a beeline to that room, and with a curious expression, she followed.

Sneaking into the archives undetected, she approached the inspector. "Hey," she began, with her voice barely above a whisper. "Are you Zenigata?"

He jumped at the suddenness of her voice, making the file cabinet he was about to open shake along with him. He blinked as he noticed her presence, which calmed him. "I am." He responded, his tone slightly defensive. "Why do you ask?"

She remained quiet in her speech, but her tone developed a noticeable intensity despite her hushed volume. "Where the hell have you been?" She hissed. "No one's been able to get any work done with Barnes' ranting."

Surprise flickered in Zenigata's brown orbs, shocked that his supposed partner bothered to notice his lateness. He figured that Barnes would be ecstatic that he wasn't there, given how the man acted previously. A disapproving frown graced the inspector's lips. "It took longer than expected, but a citizen asked for my help." He answered as his defensiveness grew.

Maintaining an air of professionalism, the woman looked upon the visiting cop sympathetically. "Trust me, I've been there," she began gently, "but you need to be telling this to Barnes, not me." Foster then excused herself and promptly left the room.

Zenigata grumbled to himself as he watched her leave. He knew when he agreed to this case he was going to have a partner, and was warned early on of his nature, but this only reinforced why he often resented playing by another's rules. He understood that crime fighting was a collaborative effort, and, for the most part, had no qualms about following the orders of his previous captains. Regardless, he had his own way of doing things, and convinced himself he was about to get an earful about this thanks to the NYC officer's warning. The inspector preferred to be in the heat of the action, not on the sidelines, doing small things in the guise of an investigation, which he surmised was Barnes' inclination. Closing the file cabinet before he got the opportunity to browse it, he decided to bite the bullet and get the inevitable over with.

At that moment, Barnes was out of his office, huddled around a group of police officers while he was on the phone. His eyes kept dashing towards what his fellow officers were doing, then to the piece of paper that he was frantically writing notes on. He winced now and again from the volume of the individual who was on the other line, as he kept the phone sandwiched between his right shoulder and ear as he wrote. With the Interpol agent presently being the text book example of overstimulation, he hastily spoke. "Okay, okay-" He paused to listen to their interuptive words, and swooped in once there was an opening. "We'll bring more cops in, thank you." He then put the handset of the phone back onto its slick black base, letting out an exasperated sigh afterward.

His crystal blue eyes happened to meet Moore's as he looked up from the desk, with his irritation at the situation palpable. In response, the woman crossed her arms and shrugged. "Nothing?" he asked sharply.

An uneasy frown tugged at her lips as she hesitatingly began. "I called the hotel, and they said they haven't seen him since this morning. I don't know what to do..." Her voice trailed off apprehensively.

Barnes threw his hands up in response, exclaiming, "What a great score for the ICPO, hiring an idiot that knows nothing about the location he was placed in!" His response made Moore jump slightly. The man continued, though in a cooler, but still angered, tone. "What a waste of resources."

Zenigata stepped into the room as Barnes was finishing his reprimands, which the former heard fully. "At least this idiot is attempting to go out and interact with the city." He hurled back, his offended gaze firmly on the younger man.

Moore's eyes widened, with her recognizing the inspector's unique, gruff voice immediately. She and Barnes turned towards his direction, though the former's attention wavered to both law enforcers, unsure of whom to focus on. Barnes approached speedily, with him matching the visitor's intensity. "Don't come in here and act as if you know more about this city than a tourist does," he replied. "You must have been in one hell of a situation for you to be this late on your first day. What, did an old lady need help crossing the street?"

Zenigata's face further soured. "A citizen wanted me to check her business. She and her brother believe they've seen mob activity in their area."

Rolling his eyes, Barnes huffed, "Knock it off, inspector. Everyone's paranoid these days." He then approached his desk, with his right hand near where the phone rested. "Let me ask you this: Did anything actually happen to this woman's business? I just finished listening to a butcher ranting about how his business caught fire for over a half hour, and he's expecting fowl play. Just because someone has a story doesn't mean it's an actual case."

Intrigued by the story of the butcher, the inspector asked, "What kind of fowl play?" His question, however, went unnoticed, as the established Interpol officer had only started his own rant. "This whole city is constantly expecting me to solve all the cases relating to organized crime, and everyday I'm busting my ass trying to find a solution to this problem. And what does the ICPO do? They didn't listen to me and hired some random cop who wanted an all-paid-expenses vacation in the guise of 'assistance'!"

"If you took action, maybe you could figure out a way to pull off an investigation without that assistance!" Zenigata exploded back.

Offended, Barnes fired in return, "You can't just waltz in here and act as if this is exclusively your case. You got lucky with that drug-trafficking bust, pal."

The inspector's eyebrows lowered as his round eyes narrowed angrily. "I've seen crime first hand," he responded as he pointed to himself, "You're the one that got lucky -- you're just a spoiled kid with a top job." His tone lowered into a sickened growl.

The cop fell silent, but rage quietly burned in his eyes. After a pregnant pause, he asked, "Are you saying I can't do my own job?"

With a snort, Zenigata replied, "Like the case itself, you haven't given me any evidence that you can."

Moore watched the fight unfold before her eyes, her mouth agape in shock by the insults the two had been hurling at each other. Detecting another fleeting lull, she jumped in. "Guys, guys!" She yelled before another round began, "Do I need to remind you two that you're both professionals here?"

Barnes looked at the woman sharply, then turned away from the two as he continued to fulminate. "Even if I was being paid extra, I refuse to work with this man."

Moore mirrored a similar look to the young man as he turned away from her, with the older of the two rolling his eyes in response. "Okay, let me remind you two of this fact," she began as she glanced at the officers in a ricochet pattern. "You all haven't teamed up, actually been partners like what Interpol requested. You are at each other's throats for no good reason," she said firmly.

The room became tensely quiet following her words, with both men thinking over the events that led to this point. While relieved there was no more yelling, Moore found herself dissatisfied with their actions. "I'm no cop, but even with my lack of experience, I know the investigation will go faster if both parties worked together," she added.

Zenigata glanced at her with a look of subtle embarrassment, as the man better resembled a child wearing a dunce cap rather than a hardened officer. His face softened as an expression of curious concern appeared as he asked, "What was the butcher claiming about the fire?"

Barnes rubbed his temples as he turned towards the two, with him resting his hands on his hips as he looked directly at them. "He believed that mob activity was involved, but refused to provide any evidence of that over the phone, other than his assumption." He attempted to sound friendlier, but the stress was apparent in his mannerisms. "I was actually about to head out the door to check the situation for myself, but then he called the precinct again." He then flopped down onto the nearest chair, "Frankly, I only caught half of what the man was saying. All I know is that he's claiming this is going to cost him his business."

Didi's worries began to ring in the Inspector's head as he listened intently. "Did you hear him say something about seeing any strange characters, by any chance?"

One of Barnes' eyebrows quirked curiously upwards as his gaze met the older of the two men. "He said something like that," he responded jadedly, "In all honesty, inspector, I'm not convinced of his claims. He was extremely upset, and needed some kind of enemy to take his anger out on." He paused, and then added, "Why do you ask?"

Zenigata pondered the claims made by both of the Cavenaugh siblings, with him now wondering if what happened to the butcher was originally planned for the Purple Car. He readjusted his fedora and then turned towards the door as he spoke, "The woman I talked to this morning made a similar comment. I want to see what happened to that butchery for myself."

Barnes' initially intrigued expression darkened into one of vague suspicion, but sensed Moore's burning, yet instigative, stare, which prompted him to raise from his seat more than the inspector's own energy. The woman watched him begrudingly follow behind his partner with keen eyes. Knowing whatever happens outside the station is out of her control, she could only hope that the rest of their time in New York City has less trouble than it does now.

Sean stared blankly at the empty plate that was nearest to him, as the young man was fighting a losing battle as he struggled to be interested in this date. The older woman before him detected that something was on his mind, and after taking a sip of her champagne, she asked: "Sean, are you okay? You've hardly said anything since getting here."

This woke him from his scattered thoughts, with his darting eyes meeting hers. Kitty looked at him with an amused smile, with an eyebrow curiously arched as she examined his subtle look of surprise, which was nearly obscured by her mass of deep brunette curls. There was an air of wisdom within her glamour that Sean found difficult to place, which uneased him greatly. He squirmed in his seat following her words. "I'm fine," he answered quickly, then grabbed his glass and poured a generous serving of the champagne. "Why do you ask?"

Kitty shrugged her shoulders, then readjusted one of the loose straps of her emerald green dress. "You seem distracted." She answered simply. "I thought we were going to catch up over brunch -- if there's anything that's bothering you, I'm more than happy to listen."

Sean struggled to prevent a frown from forming. He knew his lack of interest was obvious, as his ruminations about getting out of Gaspar's control were influencing his perception of the day. He took a moment to examine where he was: it was one of Kitty's favorite restaurants, a trendy locale that was capitalizing on the sudden popularity of fondue. A messy meal for most, but it attracted a high-class clientele, thanks to the quality and quantity of its options. An average or low-income individual could not afford what this cozy little fondue pot had to offer -- in other words, someone like him. He then looked at her as a crazy idea began to form in his mind. Why not live it up for a little while, enjoying the benefits of pursuing someone of her background -- then take all the money from this woman without Gaspar knowing and run off somewhere, maybe California. A sly smile graced his lips as he replied to his unaware companion, "It's nothing, really. Thanks for checking up on me," he said, supposedly gracious in his speech.

She laughed at his response good-naturedly, "Kid, don't thank me for checking up on you." As she was about to segue into a new conversation topic, their waiter approached the table, with his attention glued onto the woman. "Are you Kitty Capasso?" He asked. "There's a man who called us looking for one."

A noticeably puzzled look flashed on her face as she looked at the waiter. The young man that sat adjacent to her mirrored her expression as he grabbed his full glass and corrected their visitor smugly, "It's Cafasso."

Kitty rose from her seat. Within that short time, she developed an idea of who was on the other line. She returned her attention to Sean, "No, it's Capasso. It's constantly confused with Cafasso." Before turning to leave, she added, "I'll be right back."

Sean smiled thinly as he watched her leave, taking a drink of his champagne as he mulled over the confusion of her name. His eyes grew large when he recalled where he heard the last name Capasso before, with him nearly choking on his beverage as he spit it out in shock. This alerted the waiter back to the table as he looked at the young man with marked concern. "Is everything alright with your beverage, sir?"

"I'm alright," he answered urgently as he stumbled upon his feet. He nearly took off before realizing he needed a reason for his sudden departure. He turned to the waiter, stammering, "Uh, tell my date something came up, a family member's sick or something." He eyed the closest door. "Or something like that. I trust you."

The man blinked cluelessly. "Of course, sir."

Sean backed away slowly out of the main room of the restaurant, then bolted to the back door as he escaped the crowded area. Unsure of what to do or where to go, he only knew one thing: Narciso Gaspar is a fool, but Sean Gibson was the biggest fool of them all.

Inspector Zenigata found himself in yet another awkward drive, as he and Barnes traveled to the damaged butcher shop. The energy inside the car was quiet and tense, with the two professionals agreeing to work with each other, but they only talked to each other when necessary. Zenigata recognized the location from when he was with Moore, and suspected nothing of it at that time. Similar to the other buildings in this area, it looked tired and perhaps needed a new coat of paint, but nothing unusual -- at least, nothing that would hint there would be a criminal conspiracy surrounding it. There was a modest number of police that ringed around the small building. The aged, white exterior had been blackened by the damage from the fire, and there were only remnants of the awnings that adorned the front window and door. The smoke hung in the air like an old stain that was impossible to clean, which only added to an already grizzly, cloudy day.

The police exited the car, with the older of the two whisking himself towards the rubble. Barnes kept his distance, but the distain on his face was apparent. "Why don't you go talk to the owner?" he asked, as he was dreading that part of the fieldwork.

Zenigata paused and looked at him. The man was in an awkward position, as he was crouched down to better examine the damage. A small, firm piece of soot was sandwiched between his index finger and the thumb of his right hand -- despite the short time they had been on the scene, the inspector's nose was already speckled with black stains from the rubble. He frowned as he replied, "I figured that was your part of the investigation. You've talked to him previously."

Barnes' eyes narrowed in annoyance, but it washed away as a look of tired indifference appeared, letting out a quiet sigh afterward. He turned his attention towards the owner of the establishment, who somehow was still angrily discussing the events with the two police. He shook his head and muttered to himself as he began to approach, "Both of these men need an off-switch."

The inspector returned his attention to the rubble. He sniffed the piece he was holding, and noticed a hint of gasoline in its scent. This gave merit to the owner's theory that this was done in malice, but Zenigata remained reluctant about whether this was true. He then stood to his full height and wandered into the establishment, curious about what the damage inside looked like. The small store was a mess, with disgusting piles of burnt fixtures and meat scattered about. He grimaced at the sight, and now better understood why the butcher was so angry -- not only did he just lose his business, but also the supplies for said business as well. He scanned the area, and observed that the majority of the damage was done at the southwest end of the building. He then surmised that this was where the fire started.

"Hey, uh, were you the cop that my father was talking to over the phone?"

Zenigata turned in the direction where he heard the voice, and found a rather handsome young man looking at him with the upmost curiosity. He was holding a piece of the ruined meat, then placed it in a metal bin, with it landing with a loud 'thud' that rang against the material. The inspector's eyes returned to the boy as he answered, "No, that was my partner, Barnes. He's outside, still interviewing him." He nudged his head in their direction as he finished.

The inspector's eyes squinted as if he was studying every detail of this individual, trying to place why he seemed so familiar to him. He had a pale complexion, with a well-trimmed mane of platinum blonde hair. He leaned closer, which promptly made the young man take an uncomfortable step back from the cop. The visible confusion on the kid's face woke Zenigata from his thoughts. "Er, sorry," He apologized sheepishly, and then attempted to shift the conversation away from the awkwardness. "What do you think of the situation? Do you agree with your father?"

The son scratched the back of his head as he gave the ruined business another once-over, then shrugged his shoulders dejectedly. "I have no idea," he answered bluntly. "I haven't gotten an update from my dad about what the cops think, but I find it hard to believe that someone would target this old place."

His words triggered a memory within Zenigata as a glimmer of recognition sparkled in his eyes. What he said reminded him of Charlie Cavenaugh, and then his mind raced back to the images Didi shared of her past love, Nicky. The young man that stood before him was nearly the splitting image of that mysterious boyfriend. Urgently, he asked, "Have you seen any suspicious characters here prior to the fire?"

He paused, and then responded, "No one's coming to mind, sorry. I'm not here a lot, though. I only come by during the weekends because of college."

The inspector frowned, fearing he had come to a dead end. "Thanks for the info," he then excused himself, hoping to rejoin with Barnes. His partner was presently working with another cop, assisting him with amassing all the notes, which resembled a manuscript for a novel due to its shocking size. Barnes peered upwards and noticed Zenigata leaving the ruined building, with a sense of dread building within him as he immeditately noticed his purposeful march as he approached.

"Learn anything new?" Zenigata asked, and, with a subtle look of disappointment, Barnes promptly answered. "Not much. The same old song and dance from the owner. I believe it was an accident, but we need a proper study of the fire before coming to any conclusion."

"I don't think it was an accident," said the inspector firmly. "I believe someone's trying to scare this family."

Barnes examined the face of the man, and quickly deduced that he was absolutely serious. The younger of the two police officers, however, remained unconvinced. "Really?" he asked, with a hint of disbelief in his voice. "Why would anyone target a butcher? Did a relative say something about a gang of renegade hippies I haven't learned about yet?"

Zenigata hesitated for a moment, fearing the truth would paint him in a foolish light, but his hunch overpowered his fleeting reluctance. "Let me tell you about my morning..."