Lt. Welsh, Francesca, and Dewey belong to Alliance. I'm just borrowing them and I'll give them  back. Fate Kendour belongs to Hope and I so don't take her. (Besides, you don't want her now....)
 

"Huey? Dewey? Where the hell is everybody?" Lt. Welsh bellowed. The portly man surveyed the deserted squad room in disbelief.

"Vecchio? Fraser?" he called out. "Doesn't anyone work here?"

"Wonderful job, Lt. Welsh," Fate Kendour spoke sarcastically. "First you have the gall to accuse me of kidnapping Celeste O'Donnell and now it appears you cannot even run your own precinct. The media is going to have a field day with this."

Welsh turned and fixed an icy glare at Fate. "Now, I didn't exactly accuse you of kidnapping, Ms. Kendour, I just brought you here so you could answer a few questions."

The petite woman laughed disdainfully. "But who is going to 'ask' me these questions? You, perhaps?"

Welsh grunted and made one last effort to summon reinforcements. "Francesca?"

"What?" the brown haired woman replied annoyed as she sauntered in.

"Francesca," Welsh asked, trying to remain patient. "Where is everyone?"

"The Duckboys are investigating some case, Fraser is at the Consulate and Ray's home sick," she replied. "I don't know where everyone else is."

"I bet Vecchio's sick," Welsh muttered under his breath. "Why don't you know..."

"Hey," Francesca threw her hands up. "I'm only the Civilian Aide. It's not my job to keep track of everybody."

Fate let out a dry chuckle. "Very professional, Lt. I am very impressed."

Francesca turned her attention to Fate. "You! You're the kidnapper!"

"I am not the kidnapper," Fate replied angrily, her eyes flashing. "I was framed."

"Likely story!"

"Stop it, Francesca," Welsh ordered. "Go find out where my staff is."

"But who's going to..." Francesca started.

"I am! Now get to work!"

"But I want to help," she whined. She crossed her arms definatly and stared at Welsh.

* * * * * * *

Welsh leaned back in his chair, a cup of extremely bad coffee in his hand. Against his better judgement, he had allowed Francesca to be present while he interrogated the suspect. Fate Kendour was a cool customer, he thought to himself. He needed to break her composure. He needed to...

"All right, you soap dish! Talk or I'll have your guts for stockings!" Francesca demanded a few inches from Fate's face.

"What the devil?" Fate exclaimed, shocked. "Soap dish?"

"Admit it - you poor excuse for a gang duster! We know you kidnapped Celeste!"

"I am a close friend of the O'Donnell's," Fate stated icily. "As a matter of fact, I am Celeste's godmother. Why would I want to kidnap her?"

"For the big potatoes! The O'Donnell's are a big dental floss magnate! You figured you could capitialize on the pretzel dough."
Francesca paced around the room, her words gushing like Niagara falls. "You wormed your way into the family's good graces, you little bar stool!"

"You daughter of a female, two-legged blind goat!" Fate screamed, incensed. "How dare you say such things to me! How dare you insinuate that I had an ulterior motive in befriending the family!"

"Ah ha! So there was an ulterior motive, scum pail! What was it? The money?"

Fate's eye twitched and her face turned pale. She took a few deep breaths but said nothing.

"Perhaps Francesca is on to something," Welsh thought.

"Was it the dental floss?" Frannie continued. "Huh? Come on, you can't hide it from me."

Fate flinched and her hands clenched tightly. Sweat beaded on her brow but she still remained silent.

Francesca struck a theatrical pose and narrowed her eyes. "Or was it because of a torrid love afair with ... Celeste's father, Gary 'Golden'..."

"Grahamy!" Fate wailed, tears in her eyes. "Twas all my fault his head popped off! I had liked him - he was cute!"

Welsh and Francesca looked at each other in shock. There was only one possible conclusion - Fate's mind had snapped.

Fate jumped on the table, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. "Father! Where are you? I need you, father!" she whimpered, her arms stretched above her head.

Just then, the door opened and Detective Dewey stepped through, a BLT in his hands. "So, how's everything going?" he asked between bites.

Fate's eyes lit up as the aroma of the BLT wafted through the room. "Bacon! Bacon! Give me my bacon!" She leaped on Dewey and wrestled him for the sandwich.

"Francesca!!!"