Over the three years that she'd been in the business, Buffy had talked to quite a few of her colleagues and discovered that they all had different ways of gathering information.

A friend of hers who operated in Jersey-one of her few female compatriots-simply asked one of her many relatives, who knew everything about everyone. Another acquaintance-Buffy didn't call him a friend, thanks to his annoying habit of trying to get her in bed with lines like "You. Me. Plaza hotel at seven. We can rock the bed until it tips over"-had a huge network of various street people, hoodlums and general low-life's that he put on the expense account in various and rather clever ways.

Buffy had a simpler method, though.

Buffy picked up the phone and dialed a number she'd known by heart for several years. The phone was answered with a cheery "Los Angeles public library, Willow Rosenberg speaking."

"Hi, Will." Buffy said with a smile.

"Buffy! It's been ages since you called me here-do you need help?" Willow asked.

Buffy's smile widened. Willow was the one person in the world she could never, ever, fool. "Yes, I do. I have a new client and I need some background info right away-can you do it today?"

"Sure" Willow said casually. "I'm warning you, though…"

"Oh?" Buffy asked, just as casually.

"It's gonna cost you." Willow told her with relish.

"Hi Lo's at five-thirty?"

"I'll be there." Willow said. "So who am I looking up?"

"Angel Roarke."

"Not the Angel Roarke? The incredibly handsome millionaire who owns eighteen percent of LA and its adjacent suburbs?"

"That's the one." Buffy told her with a grin.

"Oh, wow."

"Bye, Willow" Buffy said, before putting down the receiver. Knowing her best friend, Willow would have everything ever printed about Angel-no, Roarke, keep things professional, Buffy-by the time they met that night.

Promptly at five-thirty, Buffy strolled into a small restaurant in Chinatown. As the elderly owner came out to welcome her, she grinned and called out her traditional greeting.

"Hi, Hi!"

"Hello, Buffy" Hi Lo replied, pretending to frown at her like always. Buffy and Willow had discovered this place their senior year of high school, when the most popular girl in the school-a beautiful snob called Cordelia Chase-had dared Buffy to get a meal from an authentic Chinatown restaurant.

Buffy had chosen this place at random, her sense of humour tickled by the name, and she and Willow had discovered a passion for the excellent-and cheap-food served here. They had also developed a friendship with the owner, Hi Lo-who knew how to appreciate a good customer and genuinely liked the two girls.

"Willow's already here, Buffy, at your table." As Buffy walked to her and Willow's regular table in the corner by the window, perfect for people watching in the street, Hi added "Usual?"

Buffy shook her head and replied "Bribery meal, Hi-you know the form."

Hi grinned and nodded. The usual was fried rice to share, as well as Egg Foo Yung for Buffy and Moo Goo Gai Pan for Willow, but Bribery meals mean that Willow got a double portion, and as many cups as she could drink of the Chinese green tea that she loved. Willow was studying the people on the street intently as Buffy approached, and she took a minute to study her dearest friend.

Buffy and Willow had met their sophomore year in high school, when Buffy had been the new girl, and Willow was the person to talk to about catching up. Somehow, their tutoring sessions had turned to a friendship that stretched beyond their both being loners-Willow because of her intelligence and shyness, Buffy because of her unfeminine interest in crime and law enforcement. Not to mention a deep-seated refusal to obey anyone's orders-a trait that had landed her in trouble more than once.

Willow looked up as Buffy sat down, her sweet smile a greeting of its own. Willow was wearing her long auburn hair down today, and it swung to the middle of her back. Even after six years, Buffy was still working on Willow's dress sense, but she was coming along, albeit slowly.

Willow brought a folder out of her bag, and started to hand it to Buffy, but then held it back.

"C'mon Will, give!" Buffy threatened.

"Not until you tell me what's going on with you and Angel Roarke." Willow's eyes lit up, and she said "Please, tell me you went out with him, then tell me every tiny detail."

Buffy rolled her eyes at her friend's romanticism, then told her "Okay, you got me. We've been having a secret and madly passionate affair for the past two years, during which I bore him a daughter who's being raised in Tibet by Buddhist monks."

Willow said, "You don't need to be sarcastic-so spill!"

As she took the folder from Willow, Buffy grinned and said, "He hired me for a case today-Benjy Forrester recommended me."

"Can you tell me what it's about?"

"Sorry. Confidential" Buffy said. Willow didn't bother to ask any more questions along those lines. Buffy took client-patient privilege very seriously, and nothing could persuade her to break it.

"I've put the articles pretty much in order, except for the top two. The first article has the clearest picture, and the second one is the most interesting-at least I think so. Just tell me" Willow asked "is he as gorgeous as his pictures?"

Buffy flipped open the folder and studied the first article. It had an unusually clear picture of Angel, in evening dress. Buffy thought she recognized the background as a club that had recently been shut down for illegal gambling. She looked at the picture closely, and didn't notice the tiny sigh she made before she answered "About three times better."

"Really?" Willow asked. She had noticed the sigh. "Oh, wow."

After Hi brought their food, the two young women dug into their food with the appreciation it deserved. After they had moved onto drinks-tea for Willow, coffee for Buffy-Buffy got back to business.

"Okay, what's the basics?" she asked.

Willow put down her teacup and began "Angel Roarke is twenty-two, just a year older than us. His family goes back to some sort of Irish nobility in the eighteenth century, but his great-grandfather Sean came to the US flat broke. He made a fortune in art and antiques, then his son Patrick took over and turned it into a mint."

Go on to Part Four.

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