"Just wait here," Lucy ordered the chauffeur whom she privately thought was probably feeble-minded as well as hard of hearing.

"Now, Missy," protested the elderly man as Lucy climbed out of the limousine. "My orders are to stay with you, and stay with you I will. It's my job."

Lucy just smiled and patted his hand. "It's okay, Robbie. I'm only going for chocolates. See, I think better when I have chocolates. They're brain food for me-of course, I don't eat them all the time even though I do think a lot-I mean, I do run Jax Cosmetics but that's not too difficult. This is different. Come to think of it, I believe that chocolate enhances my psychic abilities. Yes! That's it!! Chocolate provides something that I need to maximize my psychic powers.

"Don't look so skeptical-there was this time when a former friend was dead-but not really, and he wasn't really a friend, but he'd framed someone who definitely wasn't a friend for his murder. Anyway, Port Charles Police Department wouldn't take Sigmund's word, that is, quack, for the truth-what I mean is that Siggy is a duck and they wouldn't...oh, never mind about that-the fact is that Damian wasn't dead then-he is now, at least, I think he is, but I knew that he wasn't then and I had to prove it to save somebody that I really couldn't stand."

She sniffed. "And, I had to go all the way to San Antonio, nearly got my throat slit in the process-not of going to Texas, but in the process of tracking down the villain. I know that it was really noble of me, but it wasn't all that noble because I had to help Mac Scorpio who is my friend and prove that my powers really existed. Anyway, they do, I did, and everybody was happy in the end, except for Damian who got killed later by somebody else. And, since chocolates played an important part in the process, it's only logical now that I get more, and of the finest quality. Godiva © Chocolates!"

Looking totally awestruck by the leaps of logic Lucy's brain took, Robbie stared at her, shaking his head. "Boggles the mind," he managed, adding, "But, I'm still going with you. Marty would have my hide if something happened to you."

"What could possibly happen to me? I know I was kidnapped, but hey, got out of that on my own."

But, Robbie insisted, and Lucy waited while the old man locked the limo and hobbled back to walk her to the store. "You said San Antonio?" he wheezed as they walked along. "Don't know as I've been there lately."

"Where are you from?" Lucy asked, trying to make polite conversation. "Your accent is somewhat familiar."

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you," Robbie chuckled. "That's a joke."

"You sound a little like a friend of mine. In fact, your voice is familiar. You're an Aussie, aren't you?"

"Well, tie me kangaroo down! You been eating chocolate already?"

Lucy breezed into the story where she ordered several chocolate bars, then ordered a couple of mugs of hot chocolate complete with whipped cream for herself and a black coffee for Robbie. As she sipped the hot cocoa, another elderly man approached her. His woolly white eyebrows waggled up and down as he looked her over. "Hello, darlin'," he greeted. "Remember me? San Anton?"

"Sorry, I'm not interested," Lucy frowned, wondering what it was about her that made elderly men flock like pigeons. "My grandfather and I are having a nice "private" conversation."

"But darlin', it was you and me in that spa with all those rich folks, and those two guys who dressed like ladies. Ugly as mud fences, if you ask me, but darlin' almost any woman is, next to you."

Pausing in recognition, Lucy looked closer while Robbie asked, "You want me to throw this masher out?"

"Get outta my way, gramps," the 'masher' ordered. "Me and Miss Lucy go way back."

"You want me to make him go back farther?" Robbie asked. "He's nothing but a little old lech."

"Robbie, Luke," Lucy hissed indignantly. "Hush! You're embarrassing me."

"Lucy, darlin'," Luke protested, his disguise obvious to her by now. "I really need to talk with you."

"Not here." She turned to Robbie and said, "It's okay. I know this man. He's completely harmless."

"I resent that," Luke grumbled.

"Him harmless?" Robbie sputtered, wheezing even more. "Luke Spencer harmless? Since when?"

Suddenly, Luke and Lucy turned to stare at Robbie who grinned engagingly at them, his voice changing to a startlingly familiar tone. "Come on, mates. We need to talk this over privately."

Amazed, Lucy and Luke followed along quietly behind the elderly man they'd just discovered to be the less-than-late Robert Scorpio.

"What do you mean that you can't guarantee the shipment?" Matthews barked into the telephone. "Why do you think I contacted you to do it?"

"I can't guarantee it your way," Sonny Corinthos calmly explained. "I'm taking a little heat right now."

"Get rid of the heat," Matthews ordered. "I have committments to meet."

"Look," Sonny explained, careful not to give too much away over the phone. One never knew when the calls were being intercepted. "The shipments will go through, but you'll have to let me see to it in my own way. I do it your way, and you're likely to lose your goods. My way and everything will be all right. And, I don't get rid of the heat. Only a fool thinks like that. You new or something?"

"This is your only chance. **** this up and you won't get another chance."

"Hey, man, you threatening me? That's not a good idea. Way I see it is---I've got your merchandise. Mess with me and you might suffer some sudden financial losses. **** happens, you know."

Matthews cursed audibly into the phone and then said, "Fine. Contact me as soon as the goods are delivered."

"Consider it done. It's been a pleasure doing business with you." Sonny's insolent tone grated on Matthew's refined ears, but Stuart realized that he'd inadvertently offended the mob boss. For a brief moment, he wished for the days when he'd been completely legitimate, when his only vice was the pursuit of lovely ladies. Problem was that he'd caught more than his share, and had accumulated a substantial debt. Paying off his indebtedness had resulted in getting involved in criminal enterprises little by little, and now, even though he was very wealthy, he realized that the same involvement could someday cost him dearly. Still, there was the money-the numbered Swiss accounts that held enough money to keep him more than comfortable for the rest of his years. And, so what if he aided a few dictators in rinky-dink little third world countries? Their money was as good as anybody else's. And, when it came right down to it, what difference did it make how or when most people died? He paused, and almost laughed. Oh, it would make a difference to a few people, but on a grand scale not so much as a ripple in a pond.

Sonny hung up the telephone and shrugged. Damn, but some people were pushy. What did they think? That he'd just go and off the entire PCPD? He wouldn't mind wasting Taggert, but when he came to think of it, Taggert, for all his arrogance and swaggering, was good for him. Kept him on his toes. Besides, it was fun baiting the man. It made him feel like a matador, now that he thought of it. For an instant, he could see himself, dressed as a matador, waving the red cape in front of Taggert, and stepping aside as the bullheaded cop charged. It was too easy, he thought. Entirely too easy.

That thought began to trouble him a little later as he sat in his living room drinking coffee. Taggert was way too easy to bait, and that bothered Sonny. Suddenly, he wondered who was the bull, and who the matador? He was still pondering that point when Jason joined him, taking a seat at the table.

"What's wrong?" Jason asked, quick to notice Sonny's mood.

"Taggert. I want to know everything there is to know about him, and I want it yesterday."

"I'm on it," Jason promised, rising to his feet. "Anything else?"

"Yeah. Where do we have the stuff from Matthews?"

"It's in a warehouse in Beecher's Corners. Nice and quiet. Ready to ship out in three days."

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