Naomi wasn't quite sure what woke her.  One minute she was sound asleep and the next, she just... wasn't anymore.

She sat up slowly, the blanket falling from her shoulder as she looked around the room.  L was nowhere to be seen.

Naomi swung her legs over the side of the couch and stood to her feet.  She must have slept for awhile because she was hungry again. 

Then again, all she'd eaten in almost 24 hours was a bowl of applesauce...

She made her way to the kitchen and fixed herself some oatmeal and a smoothie.

She was on the couch finishing up when L appeared in the doorway on the other side of the living room.  His black hair was wet and he had a fluffy towel draped around his neck.  Naomi knew that he was really particular about getting anything on his shirt, even if it was just water. 

"Feeling better?" he asked as his bare feet walked into the room, his hands in his jeans pockets.

Naomi nodded.  "I really am," she said.  "I know I'll be sore for awhile but the dizziness has really gone down."

"Mm," L nodded approvingly as he hopped up into the armchair next to the couch.  Little water droplets clung to the ends of his bangs.  He peered at her through them and commented, "You do look better."

That said, he removed the towel from around his neck and draped it over his head.  He rubbed it over his thick hair thoroughly and vigorously before tossing it carelessly onto the floor.  His now damp mane stuck up every which-way in odd little tufts and spikes.

The fact that he had taken the time to shower could only mean one thing: he had solved the case.

"So, who is The Bishop?" Naomi queried.

With one thumbnail in his mouth, L passed Naomi a single sheet of paper.

"Jasper Broussard," he announced triumphantly.

Naomi scanned the document she'd been handed.  It contained information on a French man by the name L had given.  He was a computer technician who worked in forensics at the police department.  This fit the conclusions L had come to, but the real confirmation was the scanned drivers license displaying a photo of the very same man who had lifted the yellow tape at the crime scene.

"Oh yeah, that's him alright!" Naomi said, nodding.  "How did you find him?" she asked, handing the paper back to L.

L took the paper back, keeping one thumb between his teeth.  "Well, sure enough, his personnel file was not among those sent to me by the police but he was listed as having received income from the Paris P.D. over the last four years."

"Good work," Naomi commended.

"And!" L continued, holding up an index finger and reaching for another sheet of paper, "Look at this."

Naomi accepted the new document and read it over.  It was a court case file on a fatal car accident that had occurred almost three years ago.  The only victim had been a young woman by the name of Rosella Leveque.

"I don't see how this connects..." Naomi said slowly.

"Do you see the section that lists the case's jurors?" L hinted.

Naomi's eyes moved to the list of names under the word "Jury."  She nodded. 

L waited, his thumb trailing along his bottom lip.  He had every confidence that his agent would figure it out.

And then she saw it. 

"Oh!" she exclaimed.  "The Bishop's victims!  These aren't their names, but most of the last names listed here match the last names of our victims!  The Bishop is killing family members of the jurors of this case- that's the connection!"  She was so excited, she bounced a little on the couch cushion as she voiced her deductions.

A smile played with the edges of L's mouth.  "Yes," he confirmed.  "My algorithm found the connection."

Naomi nodded, her eyes wide with intrigue.  "Okay, but why?  Was Jasper Broussard related to this..." she looked at the paper again.  "...Rosella Leveque?"

L nodded.  "They were brother and sister."

Suddenly, Naomi had a revelation.  "Rosella!" she blurted out.

L made a face likened to lifting an eyebrow, though it was unclear if he even had any under that shaggy hair of his.

"Yes, that's her name..." he said slowly.

Naomi shook her head.  "Don't you see?  Her name is ROSE-ella?? The hair product smelled like roses?!"

L's eyes all at once widened with understanding.  "I hadn't even thought of that..." he said, clearly impressed.  "Misora, that is brilliant."

Naomi continued, talking quickly and excitedly.  "It makes so much sense!  Jasper Broussard's sister was killed in this accident and, from what I read here, the jury declared the driver of the vehicle that hit her to be not guilty.  So now, Jasper is attempting to avenge his sister by killing family members of the people who he believes to have robbed his sister of justice!"

L added, "And the hair product is his tribute to his sister... Rose."

Naomi nodded.  "It's his way of saying, 'This is for her.'"

L and Naomi sat in silence for a moment, taking it all in.  It all seemed to fit perfectly.

Finally, Naomi inquired, "So has he been arrested?"

L was staring toward the kitchen, his thumb resting on his bottom lip.  "His flat is under surveillance but he hasn't made an appearance at home or at work.  But it's only a matter of time.  There are cameras all over the city with facial recognition."

With that said, he stood and shuffled into the kitchen.  He returned almost immediately with a tray of eclairs.  He carried it on all five fingertips like a waiter.  He set the tray down and climbed into the chair again to resume his peculiar way of sitting.

The sweets caused Naomi to wonder where Watari was and L informed her that he had taken the laptop to the police department so that L could communicate with the agents assigned to The Bishop Case. 

Naomi briefly recalled a time not so very long ago when L was only a cybernetic voice behind a black calligraphic letter on a white screen.  She was reminded again that she was one of the few people in the world who knew him as more than that.

The single butterfly in her stomach flitted again and Naomi decided immediately that it was, in fact, unwelcome.  This was not the time for anything of the sort.  She cleared and asked to see the police report on Rosella Leveque's car accident.  L obliged.

The reasons behind The Bishop's methods became even clearer as Naomi read the report.  Rose had been driving when the accident occurred.  It had been in the wintertime and the man who hit her- Victor Duval- had swerved on ice and collided with her head-on.  Her windshield had shattered and a shard of glass had sliced .  The long gash along her neck caused the photos from her autopsy to look very much like those of The Bishop's victims. 

"Does Rosella have any other surviving family members?" Naomi queried.

L answered with his mouth full.  "Her mother is alive- Clarisse Broussard.  She manages a thrift store run by a small church.  Rosella's father, Arthur, left when she was young.  He served in prison for nine months on charges of assault against his wife."  L swallowed and took another bite before continuing.  "He now operates a fishing boat at Vallon des Auffes in Marseille.  He hasn't spoken to his family in years."

"It sounds like they're better off without him," Naomi remarked.

"Yes," L agreed.  He chocolate noisily from his long, bony fingers and went on.  "Rosella's husband, Gerard Leveque, committed suicide.  He was at sea serving in the French Navy on a covert mission when her accident occurred.  He didn't learn of her death until he returned, a year later."

"Oh, how sad," Naomi murmured.  Then, she looked up.  "Let me investigate Jasper Broussard's flat," she implored.  "I might find something that will tell us where he could be hiding."

L looked at her uneasily, a half-eaten eclair held between his finger and thumb.  "I'm not sure that's a good idea right now."

Naomi scoffed.  "L, I'm not made of glass.  Let me do my job!"

L's eyes narrowed as he considered Naomi's request.  "Well," he said slowly.  "The police are surveilling the flat... I could let them know that you're coming so they'll be on alert..."

"Yes, do that," Naomi said, standing to her feet again.  "I'll go get dressed."

L's keen eyes observed that she started up the stairs quickly but abruptly slowed, no doubt her concussion throwing off her equilibrium.  He sighed and reached for another eclair. 

---

Naomi stepped out of the cab in front of a run-down apartment building.  Several tenants had clothing hanging from the wooden balconies and the metal fence that surrounded the place leaned forward lazily, as though the ground beneath it had gotten tired of holding it upright.  The sunlight was fading steadily as Naomi made her way up the uneven sidewalk and through a door whose green paint was barely holding on for dear life.  She reached the apartment leased to one Jasper Broussard and stepped inside, the flat already having been unlocked by the landlord per L's request.

The place was shabby, but somewhat neat.  A bachelor pad, for sure.  The decor was old-fashioned and quite frankly, just old.  Like it hadn't been updated in decades.  The carpet was thick and shoddy and the frilly curtains hanging from brassy gold rods were faded and thin.  The furniture was well-worn and oddly mismatched and the air held a stale smell.  Naomi thought the entire place appeared to belong to someone much older than Jasper Broussard, who was only in his mid-thirties.

She set to work, looking through drawers and investigating shelves.  A framed photo was placed prominently on an end table and Naomi picked it up gently with gloved hands.

The photo was of a chubby teen boy and a slightly older-looking teenage girl.  They were standing in front of a rather dingy-looking Christmas tree, their arms wrapped around each other in a bear hug and both their faces displayed big, cheesy grins.

Jasper and Rosella.

The corner of Naomi's mouth lifted into a sad smile.  She set the frame down carefully and continued her search.

The investigation of the little flat did not yield anything particularly useful, but Naomi did learn a few things about its occupant.  He was a sentimental man, as there were greeting cards saved in shoeboxes under his bed and knick-knacks displayed on every available shelf.  The refrigerator was covered in novelty magnets and more photos.  Rosella's obituary hung on the side of the fridge by a magnet shaped like a yellow rose.  He was a lonely man who consistently cooked dinner for one.  The freezer was stocked with TV dinners and a TV tray was set up in front of an armchair with frayed upholstery in the living room.

The more Naomi explored, the more she felt like this was not at all the kind of man she had pictured as being The Bishop.  But revenge was an ugly thing. 

She left the flat, disappointed that her search had come up empty, but confident that, sooner than later, justice would be served.

---

The sunset cast a soft glow over the church cemetery where Jasper Broussard stood over his sister's grave, wringing his hands and trembling.

"I'm sorry," he said softly in French, his voice breaking.  "I screwed up.  It's only a matter of time before they find me."  He looked down and a tear fell into the dirt at his feet.  He regained his composure and lifted his round, scruffy face again.  "But he won't stop.  He's still going to avenge you, Rosie, even if I'm not around to help."

The troubled, stout man looked down again, struggling to speak through the emotion.

"Now, I don't know when- or, or if- I'll be back.  So, if this is goodbye, let me just say this..."  Tears ran freely from Jasper's swollen, red eyes as he spoke, wringing his hands and swallowing hard.  "You deserved better, Rosie.  All those nights, when things were bad with Dad... You told me everything was gonna be okay.  And I got through 'cause of you.  And you were everything to me.  I hope... I hope you knew that.  I loved ya.  I still do and I always will."

Jasper paused and wiped his nose with the back of his finger and brushed away tears from one eye and then the other with his thumb.  He sniffed and took a deep breath.

Then, stepping forward and placing a hand on top of the headstone, he spoke with a steady voice. 

"You'll rest peacefully very soon." 

He took his hand away and kissed his fingertips before touching the headstone one last time.