"BRING THOSE DAMN pizzas in here!" Alex commanded, his hunger evident. He had clearly instructed Michael not to leave until he divulged everything he knew.

A slender girl wearing glasses entered the room and placed two pizzas on the table.

"Thanks, Clarisse," Jack acknowledged. He expressed gratitude on behalf of Alex, knowing his boss was too stressed to do so himself and not wanting Clarisse to think poorly of him.

"Damn, I needed this," Alex remarked, half-leaning, half-sitting on the table. Michael reached for a slice of pizza.

"I shouldn't let you eat. You're a lying son of a bitch," Alex accused, his tone sharp.

Michael shook his head.

"Listen, man," Michael began after taking a swig of soda and hastily swallowing a large bite of pizza. "I didn't say anything because of Linda, okay? I wanted to protect her. It's really that simple. I didn't kill anyone, so I'm not a criminal. I'm a baseball player. I stayed silent because I didn't want the police to uncover my relationship with Linda. That would damage her public image, you know?"

"Oh my God, you're bringing tears to my eyes," Alex retorted sarcastically, his frown deepening.

After a pause and a few more slices of pizza, Alex seemed to relax.

"You know what? I believe you. I know you didn't kill him. But there has to be something. Who were 'they'? Who were the potential killers? And what did he mean when he said, 'I've hurt too many people'? That's the crux of this case. Who did Jeffrey Russell hurt?" Alex pressed, his tone more serious.

Jack took a sip of his soda, glancing at his boss. Alex sat there, stroking his beard, lost in thought.

"I've got an idea," Alex declared suddenly, breaking the silence. "Jack, drive me to White Bear INC. I need to speak with someone there. Ahh, I've eaten too much. I can't even walk," he moaned, attempting to rise from his chair.

Jack quickly grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair.

"Is that all? Can I go now?" Michael chimed in, arms open in a hopeful gesture.

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"Yeah, you're free to go. I'll call you if I need you again," Alex replied.

As Alex made his way to the door, Jack announced, "I'll wait for you in the car."

"Hey," Alex paused, a mischievous glint in his eye. "What's the deal with the rats? Why are you so terrified of them?"

Michael grimaced, clearly uncomfortable with the topic.

"It's called musophobia, you know. I can't help it. I've been diagnosed. You think I didn't see a specialist? Of course I did. It's like a fear of heights or claustrophobia. It's something beyond my control."

"Alright, just make sure the Tigers don't catch wind of it, or they might release rats in your dugouts during your next series in their city," Alex joked, winking as he grabbed his jacket and exited the room. Michael shook his head, grabbed the last slice of pizza, and followed suit.

As Jack drove to White Bear Inc headquarters, Alex couldn't resist teasing him. "Come on, are you, my grandmother? Step on it!"

Jack rolled his eyes and pressed down on the accelerator, eager to get to their destination.

"Listen, Alex, this is not your dinky Ford Fiesta," Jack retorted, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not about to mess up my ride because of some investigation. Rogers won't be shelling out for a new one anytime soon."

Alex shook his head in disbelief.

"You need a beat-up car, my friend," he insisted.

Jack furrowed his brow. "What? Why the heck would I want a junker?"

"Because you need it, buddy," Alex explained. "Cars are like women. Who has just one woman? You need at least two. One for fancy events, and another for the dirty work."

Jack couldn't help but chuckle. "Alright, so your Ford Fiesta is like your side chick or something?"

"Exactly!" Alex exclaimed. "My Fiesta is that wild side chick who's always down for a crazy adventure. You can send her off to run errands and she'll never say no."

"Alright, mate. That pizza didn't sit well with you," Jack teased.

"No, seriously, think about it," Alex persisted. "You've got your fancy occasions, like a wedding. You take your main girl, or your wife, since we're not kids anymore talking about girls. But then let's say you're out of town, working undercover on some dangerous case, like busting a drug lord. You need to catch him red-handed, but you're flying solo in this new town. What do you do? You call up that crazy bitch. Yeah, don't laugh. You call up that side chick, book her a flight, and she meets you at the hotel. You spend the night banging her brains out, then you send her in as bait to the bad guys. She finds something useful, you bust the drug lord, and boom! You're a hero, getting a raise and a promotion. It's a win-win!"

"Oh my God, you're insane," Jack burst out laughing as they pulled up to White Bear Inc headquarters. Alex flashed his ID to the security guards in the parking lot and they were granted access.

"Maybe we should crack this case, get Rogers elected so he can give us a raise, and then I'll reward myself with a side chick. Maybe a Renault Twingo," Jack pondered aloud.

"I'd rather die than cruise around town in a Twingo," Alex scoffed.

"Well, side chicks aren't always the prettiest," Jack remarked.

"Hey, you're onto something there. Learn from the master while you can, kid. I won't be around forever," Alex said with a grin as they strolled towards the building's entrance.