"It's actually very Jimi Hendrix," Audie admitted.

"I realize that, mon," he said with a grin.

* * *

"Care for a mint?"

Detective Stanley Oleskiewicz shoved the box of Frango Mints under his partner's nose, but Quinn batted it away with the back of his hand and snarled low and deep until he backed off.

Not once in their four years together had Stanny-O altered his routine. He came in the doors to the District 18 police station, got buzzed through, and immediately reached into his top right desk drawer and pulled out a bright green box of Marshall Field's Frango Mints.

And every morning he shoved the box under Quinn's nose and offered him one, apparently oblivious to the fact that Quinn had never once taken him up on his offer.

Stanny-O shrugged and put the box away, but not after grabbing a few to savor with his coffee. "What's happenin', buddy?" He leaned back in his chair comfortably.

"Not much."

"How'd it go with the Homey Helen babe?"

Quinn shook his head and started to laugh.

"That good or that bad?"

Quinn looked up at his perpetually cheerful partner and wondered how much he dared tell him. Stan was not exactly famous for his tact. Plus, they had a long history of giving each other massive amounts of grief just for the sport of it.

"She's a real piece of work," Quinn said. "I thought at first she was writing the notes to herself. You know, to get out of having to do the column."

"Why would she want to do that?" Stanny-O narrowed his already beady eyes. "She's got quite the scam goin', don't she?"

"Yeah, but she's… " Quinn shrugged. "She's not what you'd think."

Stanny-O popped the last of the chocolate-covered mints into his mouth and swirled it around, thinking. "I've seen her on TV. She's a total biscuit. She never really struck me as the happy homemaker type, either. Is that what you're getting at?"