After a moment, she heard her sister's voice, slightly fuzzed through the speaker. "You have your key. Let yourself in, you lazy butt."

"Aw, Milda, c'mon. Be nice to big sis. I got your groceries."

"And I'm very grateful, but you know the rules. Let yourself in."

Anyone observing Acacia on the street might have wondered at the one sided conversation she seemed to be having. It never ceased to amaze the sisters how the rest of the world had such a hard time seeing or hearing them when they were together. They'd quit trying to make themselves noticed, allowing one sister at a time to deal with the outside world, while the others watched, and listened.

There was no reply. Acacia, on general principals, laid a couple of kicks on the bottom panel of the door. Fat lot of good it did. The sucker had a steel core, and even an Embraced Malkavian werecat couldn't kick it in. A SWAT team with a battering ram might have had a chance. Then, grumbling, she fished her key out of her purse, punched in the proper code on the security keypad, and let herself in.

As she kicked the door shut behind herself, she heard Milda call from the office, "And reset the alarm!"

"Christ, Mildew, have I ever forgotten? I mean, since that incident with the Assamite..."

"That wasn't an Assamite, Acacia, I keep telling you. It was a Caitiff. If it had been an Assamite, we would have heard more about it after you finished with him. And he wouldn't have been so easy to kill. And we probably all would have been dead..."

"Okay, okay, okay. Sheesh. Lemme put your junk away and I'll be right back." She went down the hall to the kitchen, grumbling. She looked at the empty chair at the table, seeing Naresha calmly smoking one of her clove cigarettes. "You could've let me in."

"And risk the gentle wrath of Earth Mother? I don't think so." Naresha ground out the cigarette. "Did you get it?"

"Of course." She dumped the bags on the counter, and fished in her purse, coming up with the CD.

"Good." Naresha smiled complacently. Then her smile became sly. "And how was Randal?"

"Goth Cop? Pissed and confused, like most of your men."

"The old 'why-the-hell-did-I-do-it?' syndrome, eh?"

"In spades. I think he held out longer than most of 'em, though."

"Why, sister," One dark brow crooked. "If I didn't know you better, I'd say that you almost sounded... admiring."

"The important qualifier here is 'almost,' Naresha. I dunno. I didn't get quite the automatic sub-atomic level, gut reaction hatred I usually feel for a man."

"Now that is interesting."

"Don't start making anything of it. I had a Jolt and a candy bar, and I just got something I'd been looking for a long time. It must've been the sugar rush and endorphin."

"Sweetie, we don't have hormones anymore, remember?"

"Details, details. Couldn't tell from you. You seem to leak pheromones."

"Meow, darling."

They both burst out laughing. Acacia dropped Naresha's magazines before her. "Enjoy. Nice article on intimate body piercing in Bizarre, and don't you even consider it."

Naresha began to leaf through the magazine. "Not without a family conference, love. I promise."

Acacia trotted up the stairs to Milda's level, going into her sister's bedroom. Her eyes glazed slightly for a moment as she stepped over the threshold. When they cleared, they held a serene expression that was totally alien to Acacia, but one of Milda's defining characteristic. She began to strip out of the black dress. "Casey, doll, did you remember my lemon grass? I'm almost out, and I want to do some Thai tomorrow. Can't do Thai without the lemon grass." Her voice was husky.

"Of course I got it, Milda." It took on the ever-so-slightly nasal intonations of Acacia. "Sheesh. You don't think Rainbow would have let me forget, do you?"

All the undergarments joined the dress in a neat pile on the hand-stitched quilt that graced Milda's big bed. She walked to the closet, opened it, and took out another one of the shapeless dresses, this one a soothing blue printed with sprays of baby's breath. Once it was on, she slipped on plain white cotton panties, the sort that would not have been out of place in a 1950's Catholic girls' school. "No, Rainbow wouldn't let you forget, and I'm sorry I hinted that you might." The boots joined the clothes, and the woman put on a pair of plain leather sandals.

"Aw, it's okay, sis. I get distracted sometimes, I know that." She went to the dressing table, which was free of the wide assortment of make-ups that the other two sisters used. This one held natural skin care products, most of them in plain jars and bottles, because Milda had concocted them herself. She lifted a long, dark copper wig off a wig stand and fitted it over her short, streaked hair. Then she picked up the pair of rimless glasses resting on the vanity, and perched them on her nose.

Milda looked at herself in the mirror, adjusting the hair minutely. Then she peered at her reflection, seeing her sister behind her. She smiled. Acacia might be the eldest, but she was such a child sometimes. Turning back to the empty room she said, "All right. Let's go see what we have to work with."

Milda picked up the CD case that Acacia had dropped on the bed and went down the stairs, hearing her sister padding behind her. "How are Rainbow and Moonie?"

"Fine as wine. You need to go visit them pretty soon. You old hippies gotta stick together."

"I know. I just get so caught up in my experiments. I really do need to make time for my friends. They were so disappointed when I couldn't go to Woodstock II with them."

"Did you tell them you were at the original?"

They entered the office, and Milda went to her computer. A screen saver that resembled the 'amoebae' light shows of the late sixties was pulsing on the monitor. As she sat, she said, "No. I didn't want to make them jealous. Besides, they wouldn't have believed me. They would think I was too young."

"Yeah, there's that." The original Woodstock had been only a few months after the sisters had been declared 'sane' and released from the plush asylum that had contained them for the last three years of their lives. They had treated themselves to Woodstock in celebration, going in a specially constructed van that could be sealed tight against entry of both mortals and sunlight.

They hadn't gotten much rest, fighting off their natural urge to sleep in order to listen to the bands inside the dark confines of the van. When the sun set, they roamed the vast camping ground that had been Yeager's Farm. Finding meals had been no problem. Well, if you discounted the difficulty in finding someone who's blood wasn't so full of hallucinogens that the diner would have gone on a trip themselves.

"You could tell them that you were born there," Acacia suggested. She watched as Milda opened the case and slid the disc into the waiting tray.

"They still wouldn't believe me. That would make me over thirty, and I'd have a hard time passing for that." Physically Milda, like the other two sisters, was about fifty-three. They'd stopped aging after their Embrace at twenty-one, and they had been young looking then. "I suppose I could have my parents meeting there for the first time." Milda slid the tray into the computer and began tapping on the keyboard.

"Fair enough. I've told people my mom got pregnant backstage at the Beatles' last concert."

"John, Paul, George, or Ringo?"

Acacia popped gum. "She wasn't sure. They all had a turn."

Milda shook her head, smiling. "You are wicked."

"Yup."

The youngest of the sisters went to My Computer, highlighted 'Drive D:,' and chose 'Open.' It brought up a list of files. "Now then. Mm. Crime scene report, first officer on the scene report, statement of discovery, witness statements, fingerprints, forensic evidence, list of family friends and acquaintances... Oh, there's a good bit here. Shall I begin going over it?"

"Sure. We're takin' the case." She snapped her gum. Her eyes as she gazed at the computer screen were curiously flat. "Unless it looks like the client did it herself and is covering up. Then..." She grinned slowly.

"Stop it, Acacia. You didn't meet her. Don't you trust my instincts?"

Acacia shrugged, and pecked her younger sister on the cheek. "Sure, sis. But you have this nasty tendency to give people the benefit of the doubt. That 'believing-the-best' shit can be way impractical."

Milda's voice was a little hurt. "Well, I'm sorry, but I just..."

Acacia tugged lightly at Milda's hair, shifting the wig slightly. Milda reached up to shift it back into place, speaking in Acacia's voice, "That's one of the reasons we love you, hippie."

Milda began to read files, feeling the comforting presence of Acacia as she peered over her shoulder. In the office of The Lair, a single woman sat before a computer, and held a conversation in two voices. Two of the Three Sisters were working together.