Top Nine and counting

It had been a S-L-O-W week at the firm, ok, partnership, all right; loose affiliation of like-minded confederates intent on a mutually beneficial outcome. See? That's why I should stick with crew.
Cassandra and I were sitting in the office, playing connect four, and going over some of the week's highlights and her countdown, of course.
She placed one of the yellow checkers (I always play red). "What's the deal with Alan Davison? One quick, little rude chat and he buggers off for good?"
"Nope," I replied, getting ready for a classic diagonal play. "He's out there, scheming, plotting, trying to come up with something show he's outsmarted us. That might take awhile, but he'll make a play sooner, rather than later."
"I have my top nine, now, if you're intgerested," Cassandra said, placing a yellow for a run along the base.
"Go ahead."
"Oklahoma is at number 9, and gets to host Texas A&M, a team that melts down easier than M&M's in a microwave. Nebraska is at 8, and playing Northwestern at home, probably the easiest of their four remaining games, and Arkansas is at 7, hosting South Carolina. We'll see if the best team in the East can beat the third best team in the West of the SEC."
I placed another red to cut off Cassandra's base run. "Did you see that story about the flight attendant that got beaten to death in Mexico?" I asked.
"Yes. Terrible. The vic was found naked, bound and beaten in his hotel room, right?"
"Yep. Looks like the perp had a huge rage moment after a stressor break-down, but it seems to me that the vic had to have known the assailant."
"So what are you getting at?"
"Just playing with the idea in my head. The time-line fits and everything. But I'm wondering as to the wherabouts of Mr. Davison at the time of death."
"That would be an enormous long-shot. Smart though. Off him in Mexico, and be back across the border before the body is even discovered. Organized. Scary." She shuddered as she placed another yellow.
"Keep going with your rankings."
"Oregon is sixth, at Washington, and will probably continue their north-west dominance. Stanford is fifth, at Oregon State, in a game where my boyfriend, Andrew, had better look a damn sight better than he looked the other night against USC. and Okie State is fourth, getting ready to dominate K-State." She dropped a yellow right in between my diagonal run, blocking me.
"We did get an interesting visit this week. Got an offer that I had to turn down, even though it would have been easy money." Maybe I should go vertical with my reds.
"What was the deal."
"Some heavy hitter lawyer wanted me to look into a traffic accident. It seems that some spoiled little daddy's girl whanged two bikers and then fled the scene. I just asked whether or not it was an on-going investigation. Lawyer said 'yes' and I said 'I'm out', I don't step on LPD's toes and don't even want a meet-and-greet session with Lieutenant Murphy, downtown. Lawyer even upped his offer, enough to make me weigh the risks in my head, but I still had to turn him down."
"Is this the case that I think it is?" she asked, dropping a yellow into one of the few remaining spots.
"Yep. It's not like she'll do any real time. A couple hundred hours of community service, but she'll not have to get fitted for an orange jump-suit." I placed a checker, if she chose the left option, I had the game.
"Game of the year is between my numbers three and two. Alabama and LSU. Two best teams in the country are in the same division of their conference. The SEC has won, what, six of the last eight national championships? The winner here just has to keep their nose clean and they can play for the whole thing in January."
"Against Boise State, right?"
"Yes. They are my number one team until proven otherwise. Yes, I think both LSU and Alabama would beat them on the field, but I'm going to be stubborn and keep them at number one until they lose."
"Fair enough. It's your list." I watched as she dropped her yellow checker into the board.
"Connect-4. I win," she said. She had a huge grin on her face, as I reached over and toggled the release bar.
"Let's go get a taco."
Husk-husk and on the qb