"You're gonna change, aren't you? We can take the Triumph down to the station."

Motli checked her look in the corner-cracked mirror on the wall opposite her desk, something she did frequently. "No, I think I'll just wear this," she said, contorting herself inside her riding leathers until all the round parts were where they should be. "Bristol seems to like it."

"I don't think it's the wrapping he's interested in, Mot. You two got something going?"

"What the matter, Acey? Jealous?"

"Bite your tongue, woman. You're like a sister to me. A weird step-sister, but a sister all the same. I just don't think that square peg is good enough for you."

"Oh, pish," she said, sauntering our the door. "And it's none of your business, anyway. Now let's go." My gaze followed her out. I had to admit, she did look awfully good in those...Yikes! I reached up and smacked myself two times. What was WRONG with me? That, I said to myself, will be enough of that.

We stopped first at Ms. Emmon's house. She was ecstatic that Rachel was alive and not entirely displeased by the news of Safari Don's garish and untimely demise. She even threw in an extra couple of Franklins to express her delight, which enhanced my own considerably. She was not, however, any help on the case. When I grilled her on who might be tempted to carve up Safari Don like a jack-o-lantern, she asked me how much time I had.

Detective Bristol Combs tried to play it cagey and did the cops' typical we-can't-divulge-any-information song-and-dance which, given the man's utter lack of subtlety, I understood to mean "We have no clue what's going on here... and we pretty much don't care." And why should they? A quick check had revealed that, aside from Rachel, there was no one left in the world to remember the guy. No next of kin, no friends, nothing but a list of of rich retiree clients and a half-built house in the Congo. That, plus a whole bunch of what the zoo guy had called "life-mated" animals which Safari Don had un-mated for his own greedy purposes. What a legacy. I almost felt sorry for the guy. Almost.

Motli spent most of the interview at the precinct nearly drooling on herself, with Bris Combs ready to drool on her, too. There was entirely too much prospective drooling going on, so I left. I don't think Combs even noticed.

Visiting hours were over at the hospital, but I found Rachel Matthews's room number on a chart at an unmanned desk and snuck in anyway. She was hooked up to a rocketship's worth of machines and monitors, most of them making noises not generally heard on this planet. I walked to her bed and leaned over her -- at least she was still breathing. So was I until her eyes flew open and she hissed at me.

Then she hissed again, a lot louder. "Hey, whoa!" I responded. "It's okay, Miss Matthews! No hissing. Stop hissing, okay?" She stopped, then laid there staring at me crazy-eyed, grinning like a circus clown on PCP. "Can you understand me?" I asked.

"Can YOU understand ME!?" she shrieked. "Can you? Can you? CANYOUCANYOU!!!? Oh! Oh! No! Big claws! Great big claws, ripping at me flesh! Can't stop them!"

"Okay, then!" I said, backing toward the door. "You just get yourself a liiiiittle more rest, Rach, and I'll come back..."

She crossed the distance between me and the bed in about a hundreth of a second, tubes flying everywhere, never once touching the floor. "I'm going to eat your spleen right now!" she screamed. "I heard you! I heard what that bimbo of yours did! You've got one chance to live, gumshoe!" Now she was drooling. Gick. "Tell me, smart guy, when someone makes a stock order like Motli did outside the plane, why would a stop-limit order have made the most SENSE!?"

1) Because she wanted to buy, but didn't care about the price.
2) Because she didn't want to pay more than a specific price.
3) Because she wanted to buy but was afraid the market might get away from her.
4) Because she was trying to limit her capital gains (or losses).

Income Statement information provided by Joe Louderback.

The answer is 2) Because she didn't want to pay more than a specific price.

A stop-limit order has two parts to it. First, it is activated (or triggered) when the stock reaches, and goes through, the stop price. Then the stop is ignored, and the trade becomes a pure limit order. From there, the order will fill if, and only if, the stock hits the limit price. This way, you activate when the stock moves, but you're not forced to take less (or pay more) than what you originally intended. With a stop order becoming a market order, you'd have to take whatever the next price was. With the stop triggering the limit order in a stop-limit, you're guaranteed either your price or better (which would be higher in a sell, and lower in a buy).

If getting out (or in) isn't as important in timeliness as it is in price, a stop-limit saves you the worry about when to place the order, and what you'll fill at. It's often used to lock in gains in the event the market takes a turn downwards.

There are also possible negative consequences to using a stop-limit order. You can be sold out of a stock as the stock takes a dip. You've locked in your gains, all right -- but then the stock may just go right back up without you. If you're invested in great companies, you certainly don't want to sell when the stock takes what is (very likely) a temporary dip. For this reason, Fools tend not to be terribly interested in using stop-limit orders. Still, it's a good thing to know what they are!

Fortunately I knew that one, which confused the whack job sitting on my chest long enough for me to pop her one. I lifted her up and laid her back on the bed, then picked up the various IV's and stared at them long enough to realize I had no idea what I was doing. I'd leave a note for the nurse on the way out.

Whatever the poor girl had been dosed with for the past week clearly hadn't worn off yet. At least I hoped that was the case. Either that or she was permanently damaged. I'd have to come back in a day or so and find out which...

...and that's when I heard the door open and shut behind me. Someone had been in the room the entire time. I ran to the door and looked out. Nothing. Nothing but an odd scent I couldn't identify.

Great... the weird case just got weirder.

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